Page 10 of Protecting Lanie

He didn’t smile, but something shifted inside him.

“You don’t have to force yourself,” he said. “You get to decide what normal looks like for you.”

Lanie looked at him like she didn’t quite believe that. Like no one had ever told her that before.

Before he could say anything else, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Work.

He pulled it out, glancing at the message.

Cerberus Op: URGENT. Molina linked to expanding BDSM trafficking ring in Chicago. New players in town. Details incoming.

A slow burn started in Archer’s chest.

Molina.

That was twice in one night his name had come up. And if Cerberus was already flagging an expansion into BDSM spaces, it meant shit was about to get dangerous.

Archer kept his expression unreadable as he tucked his phone away. This wasn’t a coincidence. Molina wasn’t just back—he was moving in on this territory.

And if that was the case, then Lanie might be in more danger than she realized.

His gaze flicked back to her, still standing there, still watching him like she was trying to figure him out.

Archer had spent years building a wall between his work and his personal life.

But for the first time in a long time, that wall cracked.

He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “Lanie.”

She swallowed. “Yeah?”

“Do you trust me?”

Her lips parted, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. Then, finally, she whispered, “I think so.”

That was good enough... for now.

CHAPTER 4

LANIE

Lanie gripped the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles ached. The beginner’s submissive workshop was already in full swing, soft murmurs of conversation filling the lounge at Club Southside. She had taken a seat in the back, trying to shrink into the shadows, hoping no one would notice how out of place she felt.

The other attendees—most of them women, a few men—sat in a semi-circle around Master Dane, the club’s resident trainer for new submissives. He was tall and broad, his dark hair streaked with silver, his voice commanding yet warm as he spoke about the foundations of submission.

“This isn’t about giving up control,” Dane said, his gaze sweeping over the group. “It’s about learning to trust. To communicate. To know your limits and have them respected. For some, it’s about finding a partner who can nurture or guide them. Submission, like dominance, doesn’t come in one size fits all. It’s up to you and your partner to communicate your needs and work together to see them fulfilled.”

Lanie exhaled slowly. She had no idea why she’d let Tessa talk her into this.

“You work at the club,” her friend had said. “You should at least understand the dynamic. It doesn’t mean you have to take part. Just… see how it feels.”

That was the problem. Lanie already knew how submission felt.

Submission had been a trap. It had been Vinnie whispering in her ear, telling her what to wear, how to act, how to be the perfect little plaything—not for her pleasure, but for his.

She swallowed hard. That wasn’t what this was.

This was safe. This was different.

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