Jacob Archer was by far the biggest asshole I’d ever met in my entire life… and I was going to sleep with him.

Don’t judge me too quickly. I had my reasons. Two, to be precise.

Firstly, I had a feeling his massively sexist, arrogant, psychopathic attitude was an act. He was an actor after all, so perhaps he was weeding out weak women who couldn’t handle the stress of being with a famous man by acting completely insane to see how much they’d take before snapping.

It was a bullshit way to test someone, that was for sure, but I was still quite certain that it was a test nonetheless. His last comment about me being fucked in the ass really solidified that theory for me. Surely even the world’s biggest prick wouldn’t actually speak to someone like that unless they were actively trying to piss them off.

And my god, had he tried….

He’d spent our entire date raving like a lunatic about how rich he was, how hot he was, how many women wanted him, and how into serial killers he was, among other things. There was no way this was his real personality. It just wasn’t possible for one human being to actually be that much of a dick in real life. He was even going to make me pay for dinner despite being totally loaded, which was surely another test for weeding out all the gold-diggers. Or maybe I was just deluded. I wasn’t sure at this stage, because I was a little tipsy, which brought me to my next point—the second reason I was taking him home.

This one was…erm…slightly more personal. I initially stayed on the date even when it started to become terrible because all I’d been able to hear in my head was Angie’s voice saying, ‘see the date through till the very end or you won’t get that contract,’ so I gritted my teeth and remained seated, trying not to stab Jacob with my fork as he droned on about skull bowls and sexy teenagers.

But as I got progressively merrier on all the wine I was drinking to keep myself from leaping across the table, dragging him into the kitchen and drowning him in a vat of béchamel sauce, I found myself actually wanting to take him home. It didn’t matter what he said or how much it enraged me; he still got my engine going. He was just that attractive. All I wanted to do was drag him into my bed, jump on him and show him once and for all which gender was the truly dominant one.

Yeah, I wanted a bit of angry hate sex. Who didn’t from time to time? And yeah, maybe I was setting women back twenty years by wanting to sleep with the asshole bad boy based purely on his looks rather than searching for a quiet nice guy… so sue me.

We were all allowed a slipup once in a while.

I suppose there was also the fact that he was a famous actor. Not many women could say: My ex was an absolute bastard, so I dumped him and had hot, sweaty, angry rebound sex with a gorgeous Hollywood star. But after tonight, I could say exactly that. I hadn’t intended to go further than a kiss on the cheek with whomever my rebound date turned out to be, but hell, a romp with a man as sexy as Jacob Archer could be just what I needed to get out of this funk.

Even if he was a massive ass.

He stared at me from across the table with wide eyes as I stood and gathered my things. “Are you serious?” he said. “You actually want me to come home with you?”

His shock nearly made me laugh, but I kept my composure. “Yeah. You coming or what? I don’t have all night.”

He couldn’t get his things fast enough, including his wallet, which had miraculously appeared in his hand. “You don’t have to pay,” he said hurriedly. “Sorry, I…er…I forgot it was in my back pocket.”

I suppressed a smile. A-ha! The ‘making me pay’ thing had almost definitely been a test to weed out gold-diggers all along, just as I suspected earlier. Apparently I’d passed.

“I suppose with a salary like yours, a five hundred dollar dinner feels like a mere pinkie finger in the ass,” I replied, echoing his earlier sentiments of what it might feel like for someone like me to pay for an expensive dinner.

Once again, Jacob was speechless, and he simply shook his head as if trying to wake himself from a dream before striding over to the hostess to pay the bill. Ha! Who had the upper hand now, Archer?

We walked in silence to his car, which was parked back at Raffles, and I gave him my address to put into his GPS. His car was a swanky-looking black thing (I couldn’t identify the exact make or model, I wasn’t really a ‘car person’) and he steered it carefully through the city traffic and then up the winding roads which led to the entrance of my gated estate.

The usual security guard, a tall redheaded man named Clint, was there. He squinted at the car and raised his hand to inspect us, not realizing it was me.

“Hey, Clint,” I called out as Jacob rolled down his window.

“Oh, hi, Nora. Didn’t realize it was you,” he said. His smile was replaced with an expression of shock as he saw who I was with. “Oh, wow, Mr. Archer. My wife loves your show. Please, go ahead.”

The gate swung open, and Jacob stepped on the gas, pulling up in my driveway just three minutes later.

“So this is your place,” he said, stepping out and appraising my little one-story villa with an unreadable expression. He was probably used to much bigger houses than this, but that was too bad. We were on my turf now, playing by my rules, and he could damn well deal with it.

“Come inside,” I said, unlocking the front door.

Oscar barked like mad as he raced into the hall to greet me, and I kneeled down to pet him. “Hello, gorgeous boy. Miss me?”

He sat back on his haunches and cast a suspicious look at Jacob. I smiled. “It’s okay, boy. This is Jacob. He’s…um…a friend.”

Oscar barked again, and I laughed. “All right, yes, you can go out in the backyard for a while. You probably need to pee, after all. But no jumping over the fence again!”

I stepped over to the side door and slid it open. Oscar bounded out, panting with joy.

“Cute dog,” Jacob said, his voice strangely frosty. “Where’d you get him?”

I opened my mouth to tell him, but then I pressed my lips shut. There was no point opening the ex-files and spilling my guts about James and all the awful shit he’d done. The whole point of tonight was to forget that.

“Just, uh…a local pet shelter,” I finally replied.

Jacob arched a brow. I got the impression he somehow knew I was lying, although I had no idea how.

“Sit down,” I said, gesturing to the dove-grey sofa in my lounge room. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

I smiled and stepped into my room, and as soon as I closed the door, I made a mad dash to my bathroom to make sure I was sex-ready. Yup, no sneak attack period raising its ugly head. I was good to go.

I walked back into my bedroom and rummaged through my drawers, looking for my sexiest lingerie. Hmm…the black and cream French set would do. The silky fabric covered enough of my body to be coy, but little cutouts with black ribbon laced through them exposed enough to tease and titillate at the same time.

Perfect.

I slipped into it and spritzed a bit of perfume on myself. Then I opened the door and sashayed out. “Jacob,” I said. “I’m…”

I stopped dead in my tracks, the words drying up on my lips.

The room was empty.