“Oh, sweetie.” Zoe placed a hand on Cassie’s shoulder. “You can’t judge the lifestyle by one seedy club.”

Cassie ran her finger mindlessly through the ring of condensation left on the bar from her glass. Time hadn’t dimmed the memory of that night. It was the first regretful moment of her married life. One that had sparked a continuous tally of devastation.

“It gets worse,” she uttered. “Our hotel was a half-hour drive away, so I decided to use the bathroom before we left. T.J. did the same. It was the first time he’d strayed from my side, and he wasn’t happy about it either. He told me he’d be waiting right outside the bathroom door once he finished, and that I shouldn’t speak to anyone while we were separated.”

She stared at the polished bar, seeing the memory replay in her mind. T.J. had been pale with concern, extinguishing the adrenaline in her veins and replacing it with fear. He’d clutched her biceps, reiterating that she wasn’t to speak to anyone. Not even the women.

She’d nodded, and done as he requested, entering the empty bathroom and using the facilities as quickly as possible. She’d been poised to flush the toilet when the swing of the bathroom door had announced someone else had entered. As she’d clutched her handbag to her waist, she’d opened the stall door, prepared to keep her head low while she washed her hands and then get straight back to T.J.’s side.

“A man followed me into the bathroom,” she whispered. He’d been one of the younger men, somewhere in his late twenties, she guessed. Tall and scrawny with the glaze of a drug-fueled high in his eyes. “At first, I thought maybe he was disoriented. That he’d picked the wrong bathroom. But he showed no shock at seeing me walk from the stall. He’d known I was in there.”

The recollection was vivid. He’d had oily blond hair and a sharp, bird-like nose. His eyes had been devoid of emotion, light blue and feral. There’d been no defining scars, only a permanent frown on his forehead. But his boxer briefs were what she remembered most. Probably because the image of his erection pressing against the crotch still made nausea creep up her throat.

“I smiled, somewhat nervously, as I approached the basin to wash my hands. I joked about him being in the wrong bathroom. Although something inside me was screaming to run, I didn’t want to act like a fool in case he’d made a genuine mistake.” Her ears filled with silence, her mind consumed with memories. “He made no move to leave. Instead, he approached me. And again, I did nothing. I kept denying what was clearly happening. I didn’t think that a man would ever try to hurt me in a public place with my husband in the bathroom next door.”

It had been too blatant to be real. Nobody could be that stupid. But apparently, she had been. “He started talking, his words slurred as he asked what my plans were for the night. He wanted to know why I was there. If I was unsatisfied with my current lover since it was obvious T.J. wasn’t in the mood.”

She’d washed her hands, tracking him in the mirror as he continued to approach. “He’d been watching us. Me. And my pathetic attempts to try and go down on T.J.” It made her feel dirty, but there still hadn’t been any confirmed threat, nothing apart from intuition screaming at her to leave. “I assured him I was there out of curiosity, and that I’d decided this was no longer a lifestyle choice I was interested in. I began to walk for the door when he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.”

He’d seemed to ponder her words as his gaze raked her body in a way she’d never experienced before. He was sizing her up, determining something she couldn’t or didn’t want to understand. “I didn’t want to scream. I had already started blaming myself. If I hadn’t gone there, this man wouldn’t have had the wrong impression of me. He thought I was a slutty whore, and I wasn’t. So I tried to talk him down, assuring him I wouldn’t be going back into the main room.”

His eyes had been vacant, icy-blue irises that reflected an empty soul. The first step he’d taken toward her had made her realize she needed to act. It finally sank in. He was a threat and she needed to get out of there. “I’m not interested.” She’d raised her chin and glared at him as her head had begun to pound with too many thoughts to comprehend what to do. Did she try to hurt him? Did she run? Was T.J. right outside the door like he’d promised, or had something happened to him too? “I’ll scream.”

“Hey.” Zoe’s hand came to rest on Cassie’s back again, rubbing in soothing circles. “You’re safe now.”

Cassie tried to shake away the nightmare, but he kept approaching. “It didn’t go much further.” She didn’t want to relive the way his hand had lashed out, climbing under her loose skirt to tear away her G-string before she could scream. “I called for help, and T.J. was there in an instant. My husband was unrecognizable, his expression contorted in anguish and rage as he threw the guy to the floor and started pounding his fists into the man’s face. Again and again and again. More people entered the room as the bastard on the floor stopped fighting back.”

Cassie met the distraught features of each woman in turn, both of them riveted by her story. “They had to drag T.J. off him.” He’d been rabid. Crazed. “He was yelling as they hauled him from the building. His voice was so loud, demanding they let go, shouting for them to get their hands off me as they yanked me along after him. Their greedy palms touching me in places I wish I could forget.”

She didn’t remember how they arrived back at their hotel, and the memories after that were like photographs. Snapshots. She’d sat on the shower floor, hugging her knees to her chest as the water cascaded over her body. The darkness of the room as she lay in bed, while the sound of T.J. vomiting carried from the bathroom. The muted plane ride home. And the silence they’d both shared for the weeks that followed.

“He wanted to call the police. That night, he even drove to a nearby police station. But I couldn’t do it.” She squeezed her eyes shut briefly. “There were too many reasons to keep my mouth shut. I’d placed myself in that position. I’d been stupid. I know it doesn’t excuse what happened. I just couldn’t risk public scrutiny either. My family would’ve been devastated. I would’ve lost my job or been pressured to quit from the nastiness of others. But the determining factor was Vault of Sin. T.J., Leo and Brute are loyal men. I didn’t want them to contemplate abandoning their plans for the private part of the club to spare my dignity. So I told T.J. I didn’t want anyone knowing. Not the police, not family and definitely not our business partners.”

They’d never discussed what happened with anyone. T.J. had barely mentioned the night in the last twelve months. Yet she refused to feel guilty about opening her mouth now. If it meant saving her marriage, she’d disclose every last detail, her pride and reputation be damned.

“That asshole deserves to be shot,” Shay seethed.

Cassie inclined her head. “Yeah. It wasn’t the best experience I’ve ever had. Then again, I was lucky T.J. saved me. It just wasn’t enough for him. He blames himself, and I think what happened destroyed him more than me. I never truly got him back after that night.”

He hadn’t been able to look at her for weeks. He couldn’t touch her without his eyes glazing as he lost himself to hindsight. In his mind, the blame over not researching the club rested solely on his shoulders, with him unwilling to let her take any responsibility. He considered it his own weakness for succumbing to the temptation of exposing her to something new. He thrived on broadening her sex life and wouldn’t forgive himself for rushing in unprepared.

“A month passed before he started sleeping on the couch, claiming he didn’t want to keep me awake with his restlessness. That night turned into every night until I started noticing the spare bed was being slept in. Six months later, he moved out.”