“I won’t go to jail if it’s self-defense,” she returned without missing a beat. “A stranger followed me home. Pushed his way inside my house. You are inside right now.”

  He was. “I’m no threat to you.”

  She laughed. A mocking sound. “So you always stalk women? Steal their driver’s licenses? Show up in the middle of the night on their doorsteps?”

  No, that wasn’t his typical routine. “I want to offer you a job.”

  Delilah squinted at him.

  “I’d be happy to tell you about the benefits and salary package, but how about we lower the gun first, hmm? My fascination is starting to wear a bit.” He kept his tone mild, but his body was tense. If he thought that she was going to pull that trigger, he’d have to take the weapon. He prepared to—

  “I’m not a killer.” Delilah lowered the gun.

  But the tension he’d felt had just gotten all the worse because there had been no mistaking the emphasis she’d put on the I’m. Obviously, he knew exactly what the lovely Delilah was implying. As if she was the first. “You shouldn’t believe every story that you hear.”

  “I don’t.” She had the gun at her side.

  “So what…you think I’m the big, bad beast?” He smiled.

  She didn’t. “Yes. I think you’re Archer Radcliffe. A man with more money that God. A man who was linked to the disappearance of his fiancée two years ago. All the evidence points to you as being guilty as hell when it comes to her, but here you are, standing in my house, uninvited, and making me feel not the least bit reassured by you.”

  He looked over his shoulder. The door was still open. “Does it make you feel safer to have it open?”

  “Why are you here?”

  He turned his focus back to her. “You’re an actress.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Everything you said and did in the ballroom—then later at the auction—it was all designed to capture my attention. You could not have played the scenes more perfectly. I do applaud your talent.” He was also sure that when Oz was done digging, his lawyer would turn up intel to show that Delilah Darrow was quite the skilled actress.

  “You think that tonight was all some elaborate show?”

  It would be nice to shut the door. To sit on her overstuffed couch. To relax. Actually…fuck it. He strolled toward the couch. Unknotted his tie. Tossed aside his coat. Made himself comfortable.

  “What in the hell are you doing?” Delilah didn’t move from her position near the door. The still open door.

  She should close it. Trouble could walk in at any moment.

  Oh, wait. I already did walk in.

  Archer rolled back his shoulders. “I know about acting. I have to do it every damn day. Between you and me, playing the dick gets old. But hey, if it’s the image people want, you have to give it to them, am I right?” A long exhale. “Maybe that’s why I can see you so well for what you are. We’re the same.”

  “We are nothing alike.” A lift of her chin. A narrowing of her gorgeous eyes. Blue eyes. Electric blue. When he’d looked up and found her gaze on him, it had been as if he’d taken a punch to the gut.

  Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her how incredible he found her eyes to be. Especially when she huffed out a breath—

  And dramatically announced, “We’re not alike because, for one thing, no one suspects me of murder.”

  “Yet,” he couldn’t resist saying. “No one suspects you of murder yet. But you are the one holding the gun so who knows how this night will play out?”

  She inhaled sharply, and when she did, the bodice of her dress lifted up—moving those truly fabulous breasts of hers to optimum temptation level.

  But tonight wasn’t about temptation. No matter how interested one part of his anatomy might be. His dick was way too focused on Delilah. “I’m not a killer.”

  She merely lifted an eyebrow. A cute, elegant arch.

  “Someone hired you tonight. Someone who wanted you to get close to me and…what, exactly?” It wasn’t as if this was the first time someone had tried sneaking in his life. PIs and paparazzi had dodged him for months after Vanessa had vanished. “Learn all my secrets?”

  “Do you have secrets to learn?”

  Of course, he did. So many secrets that sometimes, it felt as if they were suffocating him. “Everyone has secrets. I’m sure you keep plenty close to your heart.”

  She swallowed. “No one hired me.”

  Hmm. Those words seemed to hold the ring of honesty. Intriguing. “So you just set on your own to hunt me? What, were you bored and looking for some entertainment?”

  She gave a little start at the word hunt.

  He decided to focus on that tell. “You’re some sort of vigilante? You think it’s your job to take down the big, bad Archer Radcliffe?”

  Slowly, she shut the front door. The soft click seemed overly loud. Her fingers flipped the lock.

  So you feel safe being locked in with me?

  Delilah strolled toward him. It was in that moment that he realized she’d lost her shoes. She was smaller, more delicate, and she also had the most adorable toes—and toenails topped with black polish.

  He was staring down at her toes when Delilah asked, “Are you bad?”

  More than you realize. His gaze slid up her body. “We’re all a little bad. But I’m not a killer.” He let those words sink in and then added, “And you’re going to help me prove that.”

  She stared at him with eyes that couldn’t be real. Had to be contacts, right? Before he could ask, she threw back her head and laughed. The laughter was rich and warm and Archer found himself leaning forward. Sitting on the edge of the couch as that warm sound seemed to draw him closer to her.

  “Oh, Archer…only in your dreams would I help you.”

  Funny she should mention dreams. He had the feeling she’d be starring in quite a few of his.

  “It’s a win, win offer for you.” My mysterious lady. Soon, he’d have every bit of information available on her. “I will give you the chance to have an all-access pass into my life. You can search my home and do whatever snooping you want to your heart’s content.”

  Her head tilted. “You can’t be serious.”

  He was. Desperate times and all that. Not that he let his desperation show. He never did. As he’d told her, he had a role to play. He was the controlling, arrogant bastard. A true dick. “I am basically always serious. Ask any of my associates.” He didn’t say friends. He didn’t have friends. Not even Oz counted as a friend. “I have need of someone with your skill set.”

  She put the gun onto a nearby table, evidently deciding he wasn’t a threat. Or at least, not a threat at the moment. “What skills would those be?”

  “You can act like you want me.”

  A faint stiffening of her body. “Is that something you need? A woman to pretend that she desires you? You’re that hard up?”

  Currently, he was hard, but that was a different story. “Women are attracted to me, whether they think I’m the devil or not. Having a few billion in the bank helps with that situation. I’ve found that if you have enough money, most people don’t give a damn about what you’ve done.”

  She rolled her eyes. “How wonderful for you.”

  He would not smile at her. And the fact that she was obviously not impressed with anything about him, including his money? Makes you sexy as sin, Delilah. “You look right.”

  Her stare shot to him. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh, come on.” He motioned toward her. “Don’t act like you didn’t dress with the plan of being the perfect woman to capture my attention. You look like the women who are photographed on my arm. You’ll fit in. Be the perfect camouflage.”

  “You are a total asshole.”

  “I’ve been told that before.” He waited a beat. “But what I am not…is a killer. Despite speculation to the contrary.” He let his gaze dart around the house. Nice furniture. Not expensive, but attractive. Homey. A few framed photographs, including one on the mantel of a younger Delilah—he could see the bright blue eyes from across the room.

  So…not contacts.

  In the photo, Delilah had her arm thrown around the shoulders of another—

  Delilah stepped into his line of sight. “A lot of people think for certain that you murdered Vanessa Byron.”

  “And you’re one of those people.” A nod. “That why you took the acting job? Tell me, was it Vanessa’s sister who hired you? She’s the one who pops up in the news every few weeks, screaming that I used my money to get away with murder.”

  “I told you already, no one hired me.”

  So she wasn’t in the mood for truth. “That’s disappointing.” It was. He rose, slowly. Closed in on her. Without the shoes, he towered over her much smaller frame. “If we’re going to work together, we need honesty between us.” He stopped about a foot away from Delilah. Her sweet smell flooded his nostrils.

  Good enough to eat.

  His nostrils flared. “We’ll be lying to the rest of the world, but in order for the con to work, we have to be truthful with each other.”

  “I do not understand you.”

  He reached into his pocket. Pulled out his card. “It’s late. I don’t want to risk you pulling a gun on me again.” And I want to get that file on you before I say anything else. “Come to my office tomorrow at ten. I’ll explain everything.”

  She looked at the card, then at his face.

  “Take it,” he urged. “Promise, I won’t bite.”

  She grabbed for the card. Their fingers tangled and that electric surge fired through him once again.

  “Another reason why you are perfect,” he murmured. “I don’t have to fake it. When I tell the world it’s hard to keep my hands off you, I’ll mean those words.” The fact that his desire for her was real would help to sell the story.

  Delilah snatched the card away from him. “What do you want from me?”

  “Come see me tomorrow. Find out.” His stare dropped to her mouth. Utterly delectable. “I’ll protect you,” he heard himself say. “But it will be dangerous. You need to know that. You’ll be putting yourself in the killer’s crosshairs.”

  Her lips parted. She backed up a step. “What?”

  “Tomorrow.” Leave. Because if he didn’t leave…he could feel his control cracking. A situation that never, ever occurred. He didn’t lose control. Didn’t let his mask fall. He handled his business. He got shit done. Nothing—no one—touched him. “Ten o’clock. If you’re not there, then I can assure you that you will never have access to my life again. Whatever grand plan you were working, you’ll just have to consider it a failure.” He turned away. Headed for the door.

  “What if the only grand plan I had was to push you into donating more money to charity? Not like I did anything illegal. I made some bids. You bid higher. Big deal.”

  They both knew much more had gone down. Once more, he heard himself say, “Fascinating.” He wasn’t sure he’d ever met anyone quite like her.

  That’s why she will be perfect. He flipped the lock. Turned the knob but didn’t leave. “She wasn’t my fiancée.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The media got that wrong. You have it wrong. I never intended to marry Vanessa Bryon. In fact, we broke up shortly before her disappearance.”

  “Uh, that doesn’t make you look any less guilty.”

  What in the hell will? But he didn’t ask that question because he knew the answer. Finding out what had really happened to Vanessa—finding the person who had really hurt her—that would finally clear his name. “Make sure to turn on the alarm when I leave,” Archer advised her. “You never know who’s waiting in the dark.” He left. Didn’t look back. If he looked back, he might do something absolutely foolish.

  Like try to pull her into his arms.

  Like kiss her.

  ***

  Delilah slammed the door shut behind Archer. Her heart raced, and her fingers trembled as she secured the lock and the alarm system.

  He’d followed her home.

  He’d left her driver’s license on the table. She’d slammed his business card down on top of it moments before. Her body felt revved up as adrenaline poured through her.

  He hadn’t threatened her. He’d seen through her lies but hadn’t seemed the least bit angry. As for the job offer, what in the heck had that been about?

  She peeked out of her window. Saw him strolling down the sidewalk. He moved easily, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. A long, black car waited at the end of the drive, idling. The driver had been out there the entire time?

  You never know who’s waiting in the dark.

  No, indeed, you didn’t. Delilah didn’t move until the long, black car pulled away from her house. The breath she’d been holding released on a sigh. Even though he was gone, she swore that she could still feel Archer in the house.

  I pulled a gun on Archer Radcliffe. And he’d…offered her a job?

  What. In. The. Hell?

  Not the reaction she’d expected from him. She made her way to the bedroom. Sat down at her desk and fired up her computer. Her fingers poised over the keyboard as the events of the night ran through her head again and again.

  It didn’t take long for her to navigate her way to the location of her private group. She didn’t even get to post a message before the first DM appeared.

  Did he take the bait?

  She’d been the bait. Her aim had been to capture Archer’s attention. Considering he’d shown up at her house, yes, she’d say he’d taken the bait. But he’d also taken control. A very, very dangerous thing. Her profile on him had indicated that Archer was a control freak. A man who never let emotion deter him from his goal.

  A man who had cold-bloodedly killed his fiancée?

  I never intended to marry Vanessa Bryon. In fact, we broke up shortly before her disappearance.

  Delilah stared at the screen. Her fingers typed out a response. Consider the bait taken.

  Except, he’d been the one to give her the business card. To dangle a partnership, of sorts, right in her face. He knew she suspected him. The whole world suspected him. Suspected him. Feared him. Still needed him because people didn’t turn their backs on a man with that much money.

  No wonder he goes nearly everywhere with his lawyer. Just one of the many guards who were always close to Archer. In order to get to the truth she sought, Delilah had to get past the guards. She had to get close to him.

  He was offering her an all-access pass. Because he thought he could manipulate her. Silly man. She’d built her life on manipulation.

  Consider the bait taken. She’d be at the meeting tomorrow. And if he wanted to pay her to take him down, she’d take that cash. If he turned out to be guilty, then she’d take his freedom.

  And no slow, sexy smile was going to stop her. After all, the devil was supposed to be sexy. Seductive. Even as he led you down a path of destruction…

  Delilah wasn’t in the mood to be destroyed.

  ***

  Two hours later…

  Delilah jerked upright in bed. Her heart raced, and a fine sheen of sweat coated her body. Her hands grabbed for the sheets.

  The dream had been so real. It had shattered her straight to her core. She could still feel little after-shocks rushing through her. She had nightmares all the time. Side-effect of the job. And her past. But…

  But this hadn’t been a nightmare. Even though it had starred a monster.

  Slowly, she eased back down into the bed. She could still feel a quiver in her core.

  A freaking sex dream. An unbelievably good, body-shaking dream.

  Her eyes closed.

  And Archer’s slow smile flashed through her mind once more.

  Chapter Four

  She wasn’t an actress. At least, not a professional one. Archer sat behind his desk, his hands gripping the arms of his chair, as Casey, his assistant, led Delilah Darrow into his office.

  She wore black today. Black blouse. Form-fitting black pants. Black heels. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and those electric eyes of hers met his without any hesitation.

  Just like before, his reaction to her was instantaneous. His dick immediately hardened.

  His enemies had often said that he had ice that flooded through his veins. That he didn’t get emotional about anything. That, of course, went along with the story that circulated—the story that said he’d cold-bloodedly murdered his fiancée. Only she wasn’t my fiancée. But everyone seemed to believe that he’d walked up to her, maybe sliced her throat, and then took his time disposing of her body. He’d committed the perfect murder because he hadn’t let emotions get involved.

  Vanessa Byron had supposedly been threatening him with a scandal. He’d made the problem disappear. Just as he’d made her disappear.

  “Do you need anything else, Mr. Radcliffe?” His assistant looked at Archer, then motioned toward Delilah. “Uh, miss, would you like some coffee?”

  “I’m fine.” She didn’t take the seat across from the desk. Instead, she moved to stare out at the window. “Killer view.”

  Archer felt his lips curl. “Nothing else, Casey. Please just see to it that I’m not disturbed.”

  “Absolutely.” He hurriedly backed out.

  Casey was still relatively new. His last assistant had run away about a month ago because…working for a murderer had just become far too stressful for Tammy. She’d told him those exact words. Told the whole company as she’d screamed them at the top of her lungs.

  But she hadn’t seemed to care that he might be a murderer when she’d tried to seduce him. She’d only cared when he rejected her.

  He was so over this shit.

  He swung his chair toward Delilah. “I wasn’t sure if you’d appear today.”

  “Well, I figured if I didn’t show up, you’d just pop up on my doorstep again. I’m trying to cut down on unexpected late-night visitors.” She turned to face him. “But I don’t like to waste time, so…?”

  “You’re not an actress.”

  Her nose scrunched. Oddly cute. “Did I claim to be one?”