Chapter 10 Morgan #2
Tessa slapped the table. “You’re in a secret-biker-Avengers romance novel and didn’t even tell me until now?!”
“They’re good guys. And they definitely staged the world’s worst fake emergencies to give us alone time.”
“Oh, so they ship you two. Good. That means he really does like you.”
Morgan stirred her straw through her drink. “He does, apparently. And I like him, Tessa. A lot. Even though it’s completely unhinged.”
Tessa softened. “You really do like him.”
Morgan nodded. “He makes me feel... safe. Seen. Even without the normal stuff—no face, no full name—he’s been more respectful and consistent than anyone I’ve dated with a visible identity.”
“I get it,” Tessa said gently. “It’s like... honest mystery. At least you know what you don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
They ate in thoughtful silence for a moment before Tessa added, “Still, I’m keeping an ear to the ground on this Archer guy. Not doing anything—yet—but my instincts are rarely wrong.”
Morgan grinned. “Just don’t go all Sherlock Holmes on him behind my back.”
“No promises,” Tessa said sweetly. “But if he’s legit? And treats you right? I’ll start planning your biker-chic wedding.”
Morgan rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that.”
“Uh-huh. So what’s the plan for tonight? Hot date? Mystery man coming over again?”
Morgan shrugged, trying not to smile. “Cooking dinner at my place.”
“Of course you are. Just be careful. If he keeps the helmet on during sex—”
“Tessa!”
“I’m just saying! These are things a best friend is legally obligated to bring up!”
Morgan shook her head, smiling despite herself as they finished up lunch and she headed back to the office. Leave it to Tessa to make the whole situation sound simultaneously ridiculous and... arousing.
And honestly, blind people dated and got married all the time, was it really that different? She’d even felt his face already. Actions spoke louder than looks, and his actions had been everything she wanted in a partner.
The client presentation at 3:00 went smoothly, with the clients preferring—as Morgan had predicted—her original design concept.
Through it all, her phone occasionally vibrated with messages from Archer, each one a bright spot in an otherwise tedious day.
How was lunch with the guardian angel friend?
Meeting going well?
What time should I arrive tonight? Can I bring anything?
Morgan suggested 7:00 and told him just to bring himself. She was about to start planning the menu when Richard appeared at her desk, a stack of files in his arms.
“I need these concepts redone by tomorrow morning,” he announced without preamble. “The client wants to see more options.”
Morgan glanced at the wall clock: 4:45 PM. “All of these?” she asked, eyeing the substantial stack. “That’s at least three hours of work.”
“Then you’d better get started,” Richard said dismissively before turning on his heel to leave her to it.
Something in Morgan snapped. Maybe it was the contrast between the respect she’d felt from Archer and his friends versus the constant diminishment from Richard.
Maybe it was simply that she had something to look forward to now, something that mattered more than appeasing a boss who would never be satisfied.
“I can’t stay late tonight,” she said, her voice calm but firm, halting him in his tracks. “I have plans.”
Richard turned and blinked, clearly not expecting pushback. “These are priority clients, Morgan.”
“And I’ve already put in a full day’s work. Unless Vertex has suddenly started paying overtime that I’m not aware of, I’m not staying a minute past five.”
“That’s not how things work here. Sometimes we need to put in extra effort for important clients.”
“I put in extra effort every day,” Morgan countered, standing her ground. “I’ve stayed late three nights last week alone. I’ve worked on weekends. I’ve redone projects multiple times based on vague feedback. Tonight, I have plans I’m not willing to cancel.”
Richard’s expression hardened. “This attitude isn’t going to advance your career, Morgan.”
“Neither is being taken advantage of,” she replied evenly. “I can start on these first thing tomorrow and have them ready by noon. Or you can give them to someone else. But I’m leaving at five today.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, a silent battle of wills. To Morgan’s surprise, Richard was the first to look away.
“Fine. Tomorrow morning, first thing. And I expect exceptional work.”
“You’ll get it,” Morgan promised. “You always do.”
As Richard walked away, Morgan released a shaky breath. She couldn’t believe she’d just done that—stood up to the boss everyone at Vertex Creative tiptoed around. What had gotten into her?
She knew the answer, though. Something had shifted inside her over the weekend—a recalibration of what mattered, what she was willing to accept, what she believed she deserved.
Riding with Archer and his friends, being treated as someone worthy of respect and care, rather than just another worker to be exploited, had reminded her of her own value.
At precisely 5:00 PM, Morgan shut down her computer, gathered her things, and walked out of the office without a backward glance. She had shopping to do and a meal to prepare.
Tonight, she would cook dinner for a man whose face she’d never seen, whose body she’d traced with curious fingers, whose presence made her feel more alive than she had in longer than she could remember.
As she stepped into the early evening sunshine, Morgan felt a lightness that had nothing to do with leaving work behind and everything to do with where—and to whom—she was headed.