“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 murmured, sounding 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.

A part of her wanted to be rejected. She already knew her way around. The request was a test. An indicator. She’d held her breath, waiting for him to shoo her away, to show no interest in the appeal of a woman that he didn’t know was his wife.

Then he’d caved, too easily, and a part of her heart had shattered. At the same time, the pounding in her chest had intensified, yearning for more of the ferocity in his eyes. She’d became seduced by his proximity. After the months apart, she would kill to have his hands on her. To feel his passion and adoration.

He was hooked.

To her.

He turned in her embrace, his jaw set in a stubborn line. “Let me go.”

No. Not now, not ever. She did loosen her grip, though. “Don’t newbies get special treatment?” Still, she had no clue where her words were coming from. This wasn’t her.

She dug her teeth into her lower lip and batted her fake lashes. “You don’t have to touch. You don’t even have to speak. Just watch. Your eyes will tell me everything I need to know.”

His discomfort gave her confidence. Too much. Because now she was backtracking to the empty single bed, hiding the grief of losing his body heat as she scooted onto the mattress. A feast, not only for his eyes, but for the numerous other patrons in the room.