by Eden Summers
“Want to take over helping Travis while I do a walk-around? Brute will be finished assisting security at the door soon. Then I think the two of us should relax and take the night off.” A smirk curled the corner of Leo’s lips. “You never know, you might find someone willing to occupy your time.”
“Yeah, whatever.” He ignored yet another hint to move on from his wife. His ex. He’d never get used to calling Cassie that.
They didn’t understand. If you fell off a bike and skinned your knee, you got straight back on to fight the childish fear. If you shattered your marriage, devastating not only your own life, but also the future of the one person who would forever hold your heart, you didn’t slide straight back into the dating pool. You waited for the burn to heal. You waited for the shattered parts of your soul to return from wherever the fuck they’d fled to, so you could finally sleep at night and gain some perspective that wasn’t tarnished by the psychotic ramblings of insomnia.
Or maybe you didn’t. Maybe you cut and run. How the hell did he know? Was it best to take a shot of cement, harden the hell up and build that damn bridge straightaway? Fuck. Nothing made sense. Nothing mattered. There was no longer a paved road toward the perfect future.
He was in limbo.
In the past, sex had always had healing qualities. The rush of release, the boost of endorphins. Hooking up with a random woman and starting the transition could be the best thing for him.
Doubtful.
He was so damn sick of the confusion. The warring emotions. It was bad enough making the decision to leave Cassie in the first place. Moving on seemed harder. Permanent. A divorce only ruined the piece of paper that made them husband and wife. Sleeping with someone else would finalize the process. Never to be rekindled.
He needed to sort his shit out. Now. Before he lost any more respect and entitlement.
So, who was he? The bastard in need of closure? Or the man who’d vowed to forever remain true to Cassie, even after divorce tore them apart?
Hell. He didn’t have a clue, but by the end of the night, he had a feeling he would.
Chapter Five
With shaky hands, Cassie placed her dress in the locker. Her skin was still on fire from the run-in with T.J. in the hall. It may be delusional or wishful thinking, but she could’ve sworn there’d been a spark of recognition in his eyes. Pain, too.
“Are you meeting anyone here tonight?” Zoe asked. “Maybe your husband…”
Cassie looked down at herself, making sure her slip covered all her important parts. Her breasts had barely fit into the cups, their volume overflowing and creating a mass of cleavage. She didn’t have the courage to expose her stomach. The vulnerability of showing her thighs was hard enough with the material barely reaching the bottom of her matching panties. The more skin she covered, the better—for her confidence and T.J.’s inability to recognize her.
“I’m not married.” Cassie closed the locker door. She didn’t want to go into the details of her failed love life. The less connection she had to T.J., the smaller the chance of getting caught.
Zoe raised her chin and focused on Cassie’s hands. “Your rings say otherwise.”
“Oh, shit.” She turned her body away, frantically working the jewelry from her wedding finger. “It’s not what you think.”
The room filled with silence, the comforting aura Zoe had bathed her in washed away. Cassie worked the rings off and hastened to enter the security pin into the electronic locker keypad before anyone else spied the telling jewelry. “I’m not married,” she blurted. “Or I soon won’t be.”
How could she have forgotten her rings? They’d been a constant symbol of love and affection, more so since T.J. had abandoned her. They were the lifeline she gazed upon for fortitude. One glimpse at the diamonds adorning her finger would’ve been enough for her husband to recognize her.
“It’s not my business.” Zoe’s voice was low. “If cheating is your thing, so be it. I just think you should know that you’ll be booted if the owners find out. They don’t need the drama that will arise from a jealous lover.”
Cassie closed the locker door again, keeping her palm against the cool metal. “Please…” She didn’t know what to ask for. Help? Privacy? A hug? “My husband is meant to be here.”
There was no reason to trust this woman. None other than instinct. Yet, Cassie did anyway. There was something in the woman’s demeanor. The way she held her head high, her shoulders straight, with comfort shining bright in her eyes.
“My husband is here,” Cassie repeated, stronger this time. “He wants a divorce, and I’m here to win him back.”
Silence.
They were alone in the room, the chattering voices from people in the hall echoing from outside. Cassie glanced to the side and met Zoe’s gaze. There was no longer friendship in her features. There was concern. Uncertainty… Pity.
“Do you need help?” she asked, although the pained tone announced she was out of her depth.
“No.” Cassie straightened. “All I need is a minute to myself to figure out what the hell I’m doing before I go in there.”
Zoe nodded, her brief glimpse of skin above her mask announcing her frown. “If you need someone, please find me. I’m usually in the first private room closest to the parking-lot entrance.”
Cassie gave a halfhearted smile in thanks. She was doing this all wrong. She wanted to show T.J. she was strong. Capable. For him, she could be fearless, facing the pain of the past, all for him. Them.
Zoe sauntered toward the door and paused inside the frame. “Make sure you find me if you need me.” Then she was gone, allowing silence to sink back into the small space.
Cassie rested her back on the locker and let her head clang against the metal. What was she doing? She was half-dressed, in a sex club, hiding under a disguise in an attempt to…what? She could be a voyeur and merely watch to see if he was moving on. Or maybe seduce him, proving he was drawn to her even when her identity was cloaked.
Butterflies crept into her stomach, growing with every second she remained immobile. There’d been nothing to lose by entering the Vault. Apart from her dignity, and that was currently veiled. Nobody needed to know of her desperation to win T.J. back. She needed to stop succumbing to nerves and get this over and done with. She was running out of time and didn’t have the luxury to second-guess herself.
She pushed from the lockers and strode for the door. She followed after another couple, thankful they’d remembered the code to get into the main part of the club because she couldn’t remember the digits she’d been assigned in her approval letter.
Inside, there were more people than earlier. She passed two softly murmuring couples in the newbie lounge, their conversation unhindered by the large screen of porn playing beside them.
Her scalp itched as she dawdled through the rooms, getting to know her surroundings. People greeted her with smiles, others didn’t notice her existence because they were balls-deep in pussy or throat-deep in cock.
One of the private rooms contained numerous pieces of furniture. Almost like a maze of chaises, ottomans and silk-lined single mattresses. Most of which were occupied. There was a mass of mingling bodies, all of them glistening with the slight sheen of pleasure-induced sweat.
The second room was where she found Zoe, caught between two gorgeous men on the bed, aglow from lights in the ceiling. Both males were naked and paying homage to the woman’s lingerie-covered body, their attention transfixed. It was another exquisite scene where adoration played a vital role. There was no cockiness. No superiority. The three of them admired one another in scrapes of teeth and gentle swipes of fingers.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Cassie glanced over her shoulder to the woman who had greeted Zoe when they’d first arrived—Shay—an employee her husband had spoken about many times.
“Very beautiful.” Cassie turned her attention to the main room to shield her face. “In fact, they’ve made me quite thirsty. Please excuse me
while I get a drink.”
“No problem.”
Cassie walked away, discretely eying T.J.’s employee as she placed distance between them. Sometimes women were more perceptive than men. She didn’t want to risk Shay sensing her apprehension and informing management. At least not before she had a chance to speak to her husband.
She entered the main area and came to a halt at the bar, her heart kicking up in pace at the man who sat at the far end. The short wisps of his brown hair hung around his forehead as he sipped from the scotch glass in his hand. He was more familiar than her own body. His image more necessary to her senses than the need to breathe.
From the side, he seemed gaunt. Defeated. The desire to soothe him was painful. But at least he wasn’t happy, she supposed. His acceptance of their separation would’ve hurt more.
She drifted toward him, her feet moving of their own accord, her gaze glued to his frame. The stool beside him was taken, the man in her periphery barely visible because her vision was only attuned to one person. Had only ever been.
“Would you like a seat?” The guy beside T.J. stood, his hand gently clutching hers to guide her forward.
“Thank you.” She didn’t divert her attention from her husband.
She was so close. Their arms would almost touch if she placed them on the bar. That’s all it would take, a brush of skin, a graze of appreciation. He was lost. So was she. But they were side by side and could find their way home together. All she had to do was open her mouth. Start a conversation. Give him hope and love.
She leaned in, her chest pounding the closer she moved, the more potent the scent of his deep, woody aftershave became. Her throat tightened. Memories of the past assailed her. She loved this man so much. It wasn’t the typical love found between a man and woman—the jovial smiles and regularly scheduled affection. They were much more than that. Their relationship had been a constant barrage of devotion. Each day growing more intense than the last. Every memory was bathed in happiness that would never be tainted.
She breathed deep of his aftershave, gaining strength from the well-known scent.
“Hi,” she murmured.
Chapter Six
T.J. sipped his scotch, unable to lift his game to help out with his own business.
He should be greeting guests, making them feel welcome and at home. Especially when there were more newbies than usual tonight. The party was a success. He just couldn’t bring himself to be happy about the influx of fresh patrons.
He missed Cassie. All the more now because he knew it was over. The divorce was in motion, unable to be stopped. At least not by her.
“Hi.”
He straightened at the sound of her voice and snapped his gaze to the woman settled on the stool beside him. Fuck. The delusions had returned. Not in a vision this time, but her tone.
“Did I startle you?” She edged back, apprehension filling her brown eyes.
“No.” His voice was gruff. Unforgiving. “You just sound like someone I know.”
Her ruby lips parted, working up and down in a blatant show of unease. What the hell was he thinking? The woman was nothing like his wife. The eyes, framed by a concealing mask, were dark, not the inviting shade of light blue he’d fallen in love with. She had a short, black bob haircut instead of the long locks he’d adored tangling his fingers in. Fuck-me lips that resembled those of his wife, but Cassie’s mouth had always been soft and sweet with warm inviting shades, instead of tawdry colors.
“I’m sorry.” He focused back on his drink. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
The woman cleared her throat. “It’s okay.”
Her voice was different now, sultrier. Nothing like Cassie’s voice. It merely proved his insanity. He needed to move on. To focus on something other than the perfect gift he’d thrown away.
“Do you want a drink?” It was a lame attempt at an apology, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.
“I’d love one.”
“What can I get you?”
“Umm…”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She was biting her lip in an excruciatingly familiar way. He couldn’t stop seeing his wife reflected back at him, the way her teeth worked in deep concentration. He needed to get a grip.
“Malibu and lemonade, please.”
She met his gaze and her fake eyelashes flickered in an alluring message he chose to ignore.
“Travis?” He jutted his chin at the bartender and waited for the man’s attention. “Malibu and lemonade for the lady, and another scotch for me.”
“Sure thing.” Travis began fixing their order.
“Where’s your mask?” the woman uttered. “And why are you still dressed?”
“I’m working.” He fought to curb the agitation in his tone. It wasn’t her fault he was losing his mind. If someone with completely opposite features to his wife was driving him crazy with recognition, he needed help.
“Doesn’t look like it to me.”
He followed her gaze to the fresh glass Travis slid into his hand. No, it didn’t look like it to him either. But he wouldn’t be able to move until he overcame the ache in his chest. Another drink would do it. Maybe two.
“I’m taking a short break.”
She smiled, stealing the air from his lungs with her beauty. Fuck. What the hell was happening to him? She was his wife. His fantasy. The same bone structure, the same body frame. Yet, everything else didn’t align.
“Is this your first time?” Shit. He already knew the answer. He’d seen her wristband earlier when she’d been with Zoe.
“Yeah.” She raised her arm and showed the red plastic strip around her wrist. “First time here, but not to this type of establishment.”
Right. He needed to quit this conversation and put a stop to the hallucinations. His interest in the woman was a betrayal to his marriage—a marriage that would soon be over. He stared straight ahead, his gaze forsaking his brain to go in search of her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He couldn’t look away. There was something about her. Something he recognized yet couldn’t put his finger on.
“Would you mind showing me around?”
There was more than one question in her gravel-rich words. But could he take her up on it? Even for a brief moment to innocently show her around?
“Please.” She met his stare in the mirror, her sultry lips tilting at the sides. “It’s all a bit daunting.”
His heart thumped in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was from apprehension or anticipation. Without thought, he was on his feet, his body moving of its own volition. She was teasing him. Seducing him. And he was powerless under her spell…or maybe his heart just yearned for something other than alcohol to occupy his mind.
She wasn’t his type, that was for sure. He’d always preferred blondes. Women that didn’t rely on fake nails and the slightly unnatural glow of a salon tan to boost their appeal. She may remind him of Cassie, yet his dick remained true to his wife.
He outstretched a hand, wordlessly asking her to proceed him through the crowd. He fell back, trying to work out what it was that sparked his interest.
“This way?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Yeah.” He jerked his head toward the room farthest from the bar. The one that didn’t have a crowd hovering around the door. No doubt Zoe was doing her exhibitionist thing in the other private area, putting on a show with her men. “This room will soon be revamped.”
At the moment, it was filled with furniture. A heap of different comfortable surfaces to rest upon. Last he’d heard, Leo and Brute wanted to turn it into a room with a more specific agenda. Restraints maybe. Role-play. They’d even spoken of development nights where they could hire people qualified to teach courses on sex and sensuality, even BDSM.
“And what type of things do people do in here?” the woman asked.
He closed his eyes, imagining it was Cassie beside him, her voice so familiar. “Whatever the hell they want, sweetheart.
As long as it’s consensual.”
She stepped closer, the heat from her body thrumming from her in waves. “And what have you done in here?” she cooed.
Not a damn thing. “I watch,” he grated. “That’s it.” He opened his eyes and caught sight of her lips pursed in a conniving smile.
“Would you like to watch me?” she whispered.
Fuck. His nostrils flared and a burst of adrenaline shot down his spine. She was a temptation, but more for the need to quash his preoccupation with Cassie than a sexual desire. He wouldn’t enjoy her show, no matter what she did. Although his cock did stir at the image. The first sign of interest his dick had given the world in months.
“Not tonight.” He eased a hand through her hair, trying to soften the rejection. The coarse texture ran over his palm, nothing like the silky blonde strands he’d spent years filtering his fingers through.
He turned to walk away and then froze when she grabbed his hand. He stiffened, his spine rigid as she came up behind him, hovering at his shoulder. Gentle hands encased his waist, the pleasant slide of her fingertips moved over his stomach, the softness of a womanly body melted against his back. Over the scent of sex and foreplay in the air, he could smell her, not this stranger, but his wife.
She was here. In his head. Under his skin.
“Don’t be so quick to walk away.” The woman sounded more like Cassie with every heartbeat. “What harm can come from watching?”
Chapter Seven
Cassie wasn’t prone to crazy outbursts. At least she hadn’t been. Until now, apparently. She didn’t even know what the innuendo in her own words meant. There was no plan. No strategy. Just an invitation to put on a show she didn’t have the faintest clue how to perform. The only thing she knew was that she couldn’t let him go. His back against her chest was too comforting, and watching him walk away again wasn’t an option.
At first, she’d sat next to him at the bar, hoping to witness the level of his suffering. His emotional struggle had been clear to see. But it wasn’t enough. She yearned for something else. Something she had no clue of. That’s when she’d asked for a tour.
