The Vault Box Set

by Summers, Eden

  “Does it matter?” she panted.

  He growled, his frustration barely contained. The tips of his fingers ran through the brief patch of hair at the apex of her thighs, his touch stopping on the swollen nub just beneath. “Everything matters,” he grated into her ear. “Tell me everything.”

  She shook her head, her hands pulling tighter against the scarf.

  He flicked her clit, once, twice, gaining sadistic satisfaction every time she whimpered. The need for her ran heavy through his veins, pulsing with undeniable intent. He had to pleasure her. To bring her to climax like he had so many times before.

  “I was here last week.”

  He stopped breathing. His vision blurred. “At the masquerade party?”

  She mewled, nodding.

  Vertigo assailed him, and he sank the arm he rested on deeper into the bed to keep him stable while his fingers clung to the sheet. He forced his other hand to continue stroking her clit, denying himself the need to flee before he knew every little detail.

  “Were you with someone?”

  She opened her eyes, the arousal flickering under the scrutiny of her narrowed gaze. “Yes.” The word was emphatic, confident, shooting an arrow through his chest.

  “Tell me who, Cass.” He couldn’t control the steel in his tone. He would kill the man. Maim him, at the very least. “Who were you with?”

  Her features softened, the caring, sweet woman he knew came shining through. She leaned forward, then fell back and huffed in frustration over the restraints. She snaked out her tongue, moistening kiss-darkened lips. “I was with the man I love.”

  Fuck. Her words were like dynamite, blowing him to pieces. He slid back, moving from the bed, unwilling to believe what her words implied.

  “I was with you,” she continued.

  “No.” His heart pumped at the speed of a freight train. His mind flashed images with vivid clarity. The new member—the woman with black hair and brown eyes. Jesus Christ. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to trick him.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “You kissed me, T.J. You were attracted to me.”

  Fucking hell. He’d died ten times over from guilt because of her. Yet he’d known. Somehow. There was no way he could’ve kissed someone else. His subconscious had known it was her. Even under the disguise.

  “I knew you still loved me,” she announced with conviction. “Thursday night was proof of that. You couldn’t resist. Just like you can’t now. We weren’t meant to be apart, T.J.”

  He ignored her, wiping a hand down his face as he began to pace. “How did you get in?”

  She tugged at her restraints and huffed. “Can you untie me?”

  “How, Cassie?”

  She flopped back against the pillows. “Fake ID.”

  He stopped pacing, nodded and succumbed to defeat. He’d received the answers he needed to sleep at night. He’d also received a reprieve from a small part of his guilt. Now it was time to leave.

  He strode for the head of the bed, focusing on her restraints instead of the glimmer of hope in her eyes. He was a fucking bastard. A coward, like she’d accused earlier. He leaned down and kissed the smooth skin of her wrist, right above the scarf.

  “I know you still love me.” She reached for his face.

  He pulled away, unable to withstand the affection in her touch. This was it. The final blow that would make her stop doubting that their marriage was over. He needed to convince her to move on. And unfortunately, he knew exactly how to do it.

  “The affect you had was desire.” He straightened to his full height, glancing down at her with what he hoped was a convincing look of pity. “Nothing more.”

  The lie stung, and each word he spoke crumpled her determined features into a mass of heart-wrenching anguish.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  A part of him cheered that she knew him so well. The rest of him died under the need to push harder. He shrugged, giving her a look that belied the guilt assailing him. “I’m not going to waste time mourning our marriage. I’m moving on. I suggest you do the same.”

  Her face paled, the final blow hitting its mark. He turned, unable to see her like this. Unable to withstand it when he was the one tearing her apart. He strode for the door, each step away from her bringing more agony.

  She wouldn’t recover from this. He knew it, because he wouldn’t recover either.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “T.J.” Cassie screamed at the door her husband had closed behind him and sank back into the pillows. Humiliation assailed her, dragging tears from her eyes to trail down the side of her face.

  He wasn’t coming back to untie her.

  She was alone. Sobbing. Trying in vain to fight herself free of the silk scarf he’d tied her hands in. Her skin already burned from the friction, and the pain came nowhere near what she felt inside her chest.

  The far-off beat of footsteps approached, the click of a door releasing and the squeak as it was pushed open an inch.

  “T.J.?”

  “You decent?” Brute. Perfect. Her night couldn’t get any worse.

  “Not really,” she muttered. Her nose was a running mess, her skirt raised to her hips, displaying her silken underwear. The only saving grace was the panties that covered her intimate parts…the same parts that still throbbed from her husband’s touch.

  He’d never had a problem arousing her. He’d always made it his mission to make her come before him. Usually, more than once. Walking away while she was wild with need was a sign she finally needed to sit back and listen to. Her husband was gone, and the man who’d taken his place wasn’t afraid of making her feel worthless and dirty.

  “Too bad.” Brute shoved into the room, his features schooled, not showing shock or disgust at how she was tied to the bed, her cheeks tear-streaked, her clothes and hair disheveled. “Looks like you had fun.”

  She glared at him as he came to the side of the bed and untangled the scarf on her right wrist. “Yeah,” she grated. “It’s like fucking Disneyland in here.”

  He paused, at her uncharacteristically bad language or the crack in her voice, she wasn’t sure. Her wrist fell free with the release of the material and she looked to the far side of the room, unable to stand his impassive scrutiny.

  “You took a risk by pushing him.” Brute made his way to the other side of the bed. “Unfortunately, it backfired.”

  She glared straight ahead, tugged down the hem of her skirt with one hand while he approached her other wrist.

  “Are you going to give up now? I assume it would be better to maintain some sort of friendship, or whatever you normal people have, instead of being unable to communicate at all.”

  Neither option had been acceptable before she’d come downstairs. Now she wasn’t sure if never seeing T.J. again was such a bad idea. He’d tainted memories she’d never thought could be spoiled. He was not only destroying their future, he was contaminating their past.

  “I couldn’t believe he’d give up on us.” She wiggled her wrist free as he loosened the scarf. “I had to fight for what we had.”

  He inclined his head, his expression devoid of care. She would’ve denied he had compassion at all if it wasn’t for the cotton handkerchief he pulled from his trouser pocket and thrust in her direction.

  She blew her nose and dabbed at her cheeks. “I was here the night of the masquerade party. He kissed me.”

  “You think I didn’t know you were here?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Nobody passes through those doors without me knowing. Although, you did a good job on the fake ID, I wasn’t entirely convinced it was you until you showed up.”

  “You knew?” Her voice rose. “Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you tell T.J.?”

  He shrugged. “It wasn’t my place. You obviously went to great lengths to gain entry to the club, and I had no doubt it was to try to win him back. And besides, I wanted to see if you had the balls to show up. I never thought you were the devious type.”

  He settled on
to the bed at her side, reached for her with a furrowed brow and swept the tear-soaked hair from her cheek, as if the gentle gesture was foreign. “He doesn’t want to hurt you.” The words were barely audible, barely believable from such a harsh man. “We all know that. This is his way of protecting you. Let him. That’s all he has left.”

  She growled and pulled away from his touch. “Protecting me from what?”

  “The past.” His lips tilted. “The present.” His grin increased. “The future.”

  “Is this a game to you?” she snapped, sliding from the bed.

  “No.” He stood, facing her from the far side of the mattress. “Kinda feels like I’m in an X-rated soap opera, though.”

  She scowled, seeing his actions for what they were—a diversion. He’d shown too much sympathy, and now he was making up for it by being an asshole. Hiding the softer side of himself in an effort to protect his vulnerability.

  “I feel sorry for you.” She did. She really did. He was cold. Heartless. Lacking the ability to step out on a limb because he was too scared to be hurt. “You must be lonely.”

  “Lonely? Why? I have everything I need—money, prestige and innumerable women at my disposal.”

  “You don’t have love.”

  He scoffed. “Does it even exist?”

  It was her turn to look at him with pity. “Sure it does. I should know. I experienced it with T.J. for years.”

  She gave him a sad smile in farewell and then strode for the door. Once she reached the threshold, she paused, realizing she was unable to leave without making her way back up those stairs toward her husband.

  “Need me to get something for you?” Brute spoke over her shoulder.

  She sagged and nodded. “Please.” She needed to leave out the back entrance. To scamper away like the dirty vermin T.J. had turned her into. “My purse and keys are under the main bar.”

  Brute squeezed past her, doing her bidding without a falter in his step. He was probably happy to see the back of her, too. The secured door clunked in the distance, cocooning her in silence. She sucked in a breath, waiting, the minutes ticking by like slow, dreary days. She memorized her surroundings, strolling around the furniture, brushing her fingers along the sofa backs.

  She refused to glance toward the mirror behind the bar. Her reflection would tell her what her aching heart already knew—it was over. There was no more will to fight. All hope was lost.

  In a few weeks, she would be single. Alone. Broken. As if she could shatter any more than she already had.

  The swoosh of the door opening startled her, and she made her way toward the newbie area.

  “This it?” Brute asked, holding out her purse and keys.

  “Yeah.” She nodded, taking her belongings from his hand before wrapping her arms around her chest. “I guess this is goodbye.”

  He pressed his lips together, the harshness of his features becoming more sterile as he frowned down at her. “I guess so.”

  She held in a caustic laugh and turned on her heel. A Shot of Sin had been a big part of her marriage when it first opened. Now it would be a memory. A brief flicker of remembrance.

  “Cass, wait.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, to the steely expression that hadn’t faltered. The only difference was Brute’s stance, his arms were raised, held open in front of him.

  She pivoted back to him, frowning.

  “Come on,” he growled. “This is more uncomfortable for me than it is for you.”

  His discomfort brought a brief smile to her lips. “You’re a confusing man, Bryan.”

  He rolled his eyes and stepped forward, engulfing her in a hug. For a long time, they simply held each other, her head on his shoulder, his arms around her back.

  “I’ve always admired T.J.,” he spoke into her hair. “He puts himself last, no matter what the situation. And he’s far too kind for his own good. He’d rather push you away and torture himself in the process than expose you to something hurtful. I envy his selflessness.”

  Cassie pushed back from Brute’s chest and looked him in the eye. “Right now, I loathe it.”

  “Understandable.” He inclined his head. “But even though he’s acting this way, deep down I think he’d want you to know your pain is killing him.”

  “I thought you didn’t get involved in personal matters.” She gave a halfhearted grin, unable to keep it plastered on her face for longer than a few seconds.

  “I guess I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress.”

  “No.” She shook her head, sliding from his embrace. “You’ve got a big heart. You’re just too afraid to show it.”

  “Nah. I really don’t.” He glanced toward the bar, denying her his gaze. “If you leave out the back door, I’ll lock it behind you.”

  She wanted to laugh at the abrupt change in conversation. Instead, she thumped his shoulder with her purse, lightening the mood. “I’ll see you around, big guy.”

  He nodded, his features returning to their emotionless state. “Look after yourself.”

  “Will do.” She headed for the staircase leading to the parking lot, ignoring the impending breakdown she could feel pressing on her shoulders. The time had come to move on. No more second-guessing. No more trying to fight an unidentifiable opponent. Her marriage was over. And after tonight, she was determined to move on.

  * * *

  T.J. leaned against the wall beside the upstairs entrance to the Vault, waiting for Brute to return. As soon as the door opened, he straightened, watching as his business partner strode for the bar.

  “Is she gone?” His voice echoed through the empty room, taunting him.

  “Yep.” Brute’s tone was too blasé for T.J.’s liking. “For good.”

  Fuck. He ran a hand over his face and tilted his head to the ceiling. “Is she okay?”

  “You don’t want to hear how she is.” Brute continued across the dance floor, heading for Shay and Leo who stood behind the bar.

  “Yeah, I do.” T.J. pushed off the wall. “Tell me.”

  Brute swung around. “She’s fucked. Is that what you want to hear?” He threw his hands up in the air and let them drop to his sides. “You’ve broken her. She’s done. Gone. Congratulations.”

  “Jesus,” Shay whispered.

  “You stay the fuck out of this.” T.J. stormed for the bar, pointing a threatening finger in her direction as his mental stability splintered. “It’s your fault she was here.”

  Shay balked at his vicious tone. “What—”

  “Have I disrespected you in some way? Was this retaliation for something I’ve done? Or were you just being a heartless, nosy bitch, thinking you knew better because I’m merely a male and have no clue what it’s like to feel?”

  The words flowed from his mouth like he was stuck in an out-of-body experience. They were his thoughts that never should’ve been spoken. His torment that should’ve remained his own.

  Her mouth opened, closed. She glanced to her left, to Leo at her side, before returning to face him. “It was neither. I—”

  “You encouraged her to come tonight, didn’t you?”

  “I…I…” Her shoulders fell and she gave a brief nod. “I know you love her. I thought the two of you could work things out if you spent some time together.”

  “Fucking hell, Shay,” Brute muttered.

  “It’s not her fault.” Leo came around the bar. “Her heart was in the right place. She was only trying to help.”

  “Well, she didn’t. She made me spit in the face of my marriage. And I want to know what the fuck you plan to do about it. She can’t work here anymore. I want her gone.”

  “That’s the pain talking,” Leo growled. “Shay’s far more than an employee to us, and you know it.”

  T.J. raised his chin, refusing to agree.

  “Look, you’re pissed. We know that.” Brute strode around the back of the bar and pulled a can of Scotch and dry from the fridge. “But Cass is out of your hair now. She’s moving on. You’ve got
what you wanted. Don’t go blaming anyone else for something you put into motion.”

  T.J. clenched his jaw, breathing heavily through his nose in an effort to keep the hateful words in his chest. It was his fault. He was to blame.

  “What was I meant to do?” he asked. “I can’t tell her the truth. It will kill her.”

  “What is the truth, T.J.?” Shay asked.

  Leo winced and shook his head, but the silent protest wasn’t enough to stop the words that inched up T.J.’s throat. “Six months ago, the man who assaulted her was charged with a brutal rape. The woman almost died.”

  Shay gasped. “Cassie doesn’t know?”

  “No,” he grated. “And I don’t plan on telling her either. She would blame herself when it isn’t her fault.”

  It was his.

  If only he hadn’t taken her to that sex club. If only he would’ve listened to his gut and not allowed her to walk from his side to use the bathroom. She never would’ve been assaulted and he wouldn’t have the guilt of two tortured women weighing down his shoulders.

  “Then don’t tell her…but you can’t divorce her because of this either,” Shay begged.

  “You expect me to hide it from her for the rest of my life?” He glared. “I love her, Shay. I’d do anything for her. But what I won’t do is create a marriage based on lies. She deserves more than me. She deserves more than a man who would put her in that sort of position.”

  He’d only found out about the charges because he’d employed an investigator to do some digging. Almost six months to the day after that night in the club, he’d received an email with images attached. A twenty-six-year-old, shy and beautiful, had been dragged into a car. She hadn’t stood a chance.

  “Cassie currently thinks this divorce is hard,” he continued. “If she found out what this man could’ve done to her, or what could’ve been avoided if only we’d gone to the police, she won’t recover. I can’t do that to her.”

  He ground his teeth together and focused a lethal stare on Shay. “And I won’t allow you to shove your nose into our business and risk her finding out just so you can push your own agenda.