Page 5 of Protecting Lanie

And then he was gone, leaving her standing there, heart pounding, hands still sticky with sugar.

Tessa reappeared, tray in hand, eyebrows raised. “So…thatwas interesting.”

Lanie huffed, reaching for the fresh pastries. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Tessa grinned. “Oh, we’redefinitelytalking about it.”

Lanie turned toward the lounge with the tray, but she could feel Archer’s gaze still lingering on her. And for the first time in a long time, the thought of a man watching her didn’t make her want to run. It made her want to stay.

That thought put some sway in her backside as she sashayed away. He probably wouldn’t notice, but a girl could dream.

When she returned to the kitchen, its familiar rhythm helped to soothe the last of Lanie’s frayed nerves. The scent of vanilla and caramel wrapped around her like a protective cocoon, the hum of the mixers a welcome distraction. She focused on her work, carefully piping thick swirls of chocolate ganache onto delicate eclairs, pushing aside the ever-present undercurrent of unease that had been trailing her for weeks.

Club Southside was her safe space. Here, she was Lanie Cross, pastry chef—nothing more, nothing less. Not someone’s property. Not someone’s target. Just a woman who had found a place where she could breathe. As funny as it sounded, she had learned that Club Southside was a safe haven.

Sure, there were Doms and Dommes galore, but a submissive’s word was law and if someone said no, they meant it, and if necessary, one of the Cerberus Team would back it up. Cerberus, now there was an interesting group. As far as she could tell, each and every one of them had membership rights in the club, and most were active practitioners.

The sound of footsteps and laughter from the lounge filtered in through the kitchen’s open doorway. The club was alive tonight, its usual buzz of low conversation and sensual play filling the air. She liked it best when she could hear the activity but remain tucked away in her domain, far from the temptations and dangers lurking on the other side of those doors.

Then she heard it.

Vinnie’s name.

Lanie’s hand stilled mid-pipe, her breath catching in her throat. The voice was male, deep, conversational.

“Yeah, Molina’s still got his hands in a few things. Thought he went quiet for a while, but looks like he’s back in play.”

The air in the room seemed to shift, tightening around her like invisible fingers closing over her throat.

No. It was a coincidence. It had to be.

Lanie forced herself to breathe, forced her fingers to move. She had escaped. He had let her go. That had to mean something.

Another voice responded, casual, disinterested. “Shit. That guy’s got a reputation, even in the underground. Heard he had areal sweet setupbefore his boss found out.”

She swallowed hard. The room was too small, the air too thick.

They weren’t talking about her.

They couldn’t be.

Shoving the thought aside, she wiped her hands on her apron and forced herself to step away from the counter. She neededto get out of this damn kitchen for a few minutes before her heartbeat rattled straight out of her chest.

She moved toward the doorway, keeping her gaze lowered, carefully avoiding eye contact with the patrons filling the club’s dimly lit lounge area. The last thing she wanted was attention.

But she got it anyway.

Someone brushed against her—too close, too intentional. A hand skated lightly over the small of her back, not quite a grope, but enough to make her entire body seize.

Bile rose in her throat. She knew that move. Knew it well. It was a test, a way to see how much someone would allow before they pulled away.

Lanie went stiff, stepping sharply to the side, her breath coming faster.

“Relax, sweetheart.” The man’s voice was smooth, charming—wrong. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Every instinct she had screamed at her to move, to run...

Then another presence emerged from the shadows.

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