Wolfe didn’t look away from Dana, his gaze going from furious to calm in a second. How in the world did he control himself like that? “I’m normally not a public player, as you know.”

What did that mean? Dana began to ask, but Wolfe subtly shook his head.

The man held out a hand. “In that case, I’m Master Trentington. How about I show you around tonight?”

“That’s kind of you.” Dana shook his hand, her lip trembling annoyingly. “I was actually looking for a friend named Albert Nelson. Do you know him?”

Trentington reluctantly released her. “I do, but he’s not here tonight. I’d love to be your guide in his stead.”

“No,” Wolfe answered before she could, angling his body closer and partially blocking the other man. He glanced over his shoulder at Jennie. “Spare cuffs?”

Jennie grinned, reached under the bar, and tossed over a pair of bright pink wrist cuffs.

Wolfe snagged them out of the air and snapped them on Dana’s wrists before she could blink. They were fur lined and soft, but felt restrictive nonetheless. “We’ve already reached an agreement,” he murmured.

“Well. In that case, have fun.” Trentington moved to leave.

“Charles was being pushy again,” Wolfe said quietly. “It’s time you kicked him out.”

Trentington sighed and turned toward the dance floor. “Thanks.”

Dana looked down at the pink cuffs. She kind of felt like Wonder Woman. “Why did you—”

“They show ownership,” Wolfe said, clipping the cuffs together easily.

Her abdomen rolled, and her head snapped back. “Excuse me?” She tugged hard, but they wouldn’t separate, effectively binding her wrists together. She eyed his shin. With her heels, she could do some damage.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. It slid over her skin, burning her from within. “Right now, you’re playing a sub, no doubt for a story. But I’m playing a dom, and if you kick me, I’ll toss your ass over that bar and beat it.”

His words slid right through her to pulse between her legs. For Pete’s sake. That scenario was not sexy. The idea of Wolfe’s hand anywhere near her butt sent her already sensitive body into hyperdrive. Oh, she’d handle him later. For now, she had work to do, so she shook off all emotion and leaned closer. He’d said “playing.” “Are you on a job?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He glanced around. “Who’s Albert Nelson?”

“Someone I need to talk to,” she said, looking again. “I scared him off last week, but I know he’s a member of Captive, so I came here to ask him questions.” She planned to pressure him into answering all of her questions this time. She no longer cared about subtlety. Finding out who’d killed her friend was all that mattered. “Your job?”

“Confidential. You know a guy named Clarke Wellson?”