Page 29 of Protecting Lanie

Archer’s hand skimmed down her side, slow, deliberate. "No, but I can remind you who you belong to."

Her pulse pounded. She should fight him on this. Should tell him she didn’t belong to anyone. But the way he was touching her? The way he was speaking to her? Made her want to belong to him—not just for this op, but forever. She wanted to hear him say it again.

Archer reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk ribbon.

Lanie’s stomach flipped.

"Hands up," he ordered.

Her breath hitched. "What?"

Archer’s gaze locked onto hers. "Now."

A thrill ran through her. Slowly, she lifted her hands, presenting them to him as requested—no, scratch that, ordered..

Archer took his time, wrapping the silk around her wrists, knotting it with precise, practiced skill. Not too tight. Not painful. But enough to make her feel it.

"Good girl," he murmured.

Lanie shivered. She wondered if he had any idea what those two words did to her. He stepped closer, his body pressing against hers, the hard lines of his chest flush against her softer curves.

"You like this," he murmured, dragging his nose along the curve of her throat.

She swallowed hard. "I…"

Archer’s fingers ghosted over her hip, teasing, taunting. "I could make you beg," he mused. "Right here. Right now."

Lanie sucked in a sharp breath. He was right, he could. Her body ached for him. For his touch. For more.

Instead, he leaned in and whispered against her lips, "Behave tonight, little one, or there will be consequences—painful ones."

Then, just as quickly as he’d bound her, he untied the silk, letting it slide through his fingers. Lanie nearly whimpered.

She sucked in a sharp breath, struggling to regain control. "That was… unfair."

Archer’s lips quirked. "No, that was a warning."

He lifted the silk ribbon, tucking it into the pocket of his suit jacket, like a promise, a reminder.

Lanie’s entire bodyburned.

Archer stepped back, adjusting his cuffs like he hadn’t just turned her into a quivering mess.

"You ready?" he asked casually.

Lanie exhaled hard. "I hate you."

Archer chuckled. "No, you don’t."

She scowled, but she still took his arm when he offered it. And as they stepped into the night, Lanie realized something terrifying—she might have just stepped into the lion’s den.

But therealdanger? Was the man walking beside her.

Lanie stepped deeper into the masquerade, her pulse a steady thrum beneath her skin. The ballroom was alive with energy—bodies pressed together in close conversation, the sound of laughter and music blending into a hypnotic hum. The air smelled of expensive cologne, perfume, and something darker, something more dangerous lurking just beneath the surface.

She forced herself to breathe.

She wasn’t a victim. Not tonight.

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