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.