Page 21 of Unlocked

All the dishes were arranged in the center, heavy silver domes covering each one.

"You're staying?" she asked, glancing back at him.

He nodded, murmured something quietly to the waiter, who wheeled the cart away and disappeared.

"I think you and I have some things to discuss," Archer said.

"Really?" she murmured distractedly, eyes still on the table. She was busy willing the heat out of her cheeks, and meeting his gaze felt like a terrible idea at this particular moment. Her stomach rumbled again. She was far hungrier than she'd realized, and as a distraction, she took a seat. "What exactly do you think we need to discuss?"

Archer lifted the domes one by one. A pasta dish. A salad. A delicate fish entrée. Rice and vegetables, all plated beautifully. He set cutlery beside each dish.

Tatum didn't hesitate. She filled her plate and took her first bite of pasta.

"Oh my God," she said softly. "Chef Pierre has outdone himself."

Archer smiled. "Chef Pierre outdoes himself every day."

She had to agree.

She glanced at Archer's plate. He'd taken only a small portion of everything. "Not hungry?"

"I ate earlier," he said easily.

He rose from the table and crossed to the wall beside the fireplace, pressing on a section of trim. A concealed cabinet door swung open to reveal the bar.

She knew it had to be there somewhere.

Moments later, he returned with two glasses of white wine and set one in front of her. "Don't worry. It complements everything on the table."

Tatum laughed. "Worrying about wine pairings is the last thing on my mind right now."

"Fair." He smirked as he took his seat again.

Damn, that smug smile was so appealing. Resisting the urge to shake her head, she focused on trying the fish next. The delicate sauce melted perfectly into the rice. Again, divine. Archer had been right. Chef Pierre was incredible. But then she noticed something. Archer wasn't really eating. He'd moved food around his plate and was now watching her with that quiet, assessing attention he probably gave everything. She reluctantly set her fork down and met his gaze.

"So," she said, "what is it you think we need to discuss?"

"Whatever you're involved in is dangerous," Archer said evenly. He lifted a palm. "I'd like to offer my assistance."

Tatum studied him over the rim of her wineglass. "And if I don't want your assistance?"

He didn't push. Didn't retreat either. Just waited with that particular stillness of his that she found both impressive and unnerving.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected. Part of her wanted to say yes. To hand him everything she was working on and let him untangle it for her. The other part hesitated, wary and guarded. Someone had already broken into her apartment. Gone looking for something she still didn't fully understand.

"Do you think they found what they were looking for?" she blurted. She took a sip of wine and set the glass down.

"Tatum," Archer said gently, "what they did tonight wasn't about finding something. It was about sending a message."

She stilled.

"The message was meant to make you uncomfortable," he continued. "To make sure no part of your life was untouched by the violence of it."

Her stomach tightened.

"That's why I believe you're in danger now," Archer said. "If they were searching for something, I don't think they found it. Your apartment was thoroughly tossed, and whatever they were looking for, I'd wager it was safe in your secret room with you."

Tatum frowned. She'd been so discombobulated by everything that had happened, she hadn't even thought about that, about her secret room. She'd closed the door before she left, but now the worry crept in.