Chapter Nine

Friday, October 6th 10:37PM

When Honey returned home that night, the apartment was still empty. The motion-activated cameras hadn't sent a single notification to her phone. Riley was likely spending another night with his teenage mistress, which suited her just fine. She needed time to think.

She kicked off her heels by the door and poured herself a glass of water, suddenly conscious of how much she'd drunk at dinner. Enough to loosen her tongue, not enough to impair her judgment, a fine line she'd walked carefully knowing she was coming home. Riley could have changed plans and come home after all.

The information Lauren had sent about The Velvet Room glowed on her phone screen. An exclusive members-only club in a discreet location, requiring both a substantial membership f*e and a rigorous vetting process. Masks mandatory. No real names. Total privacy guaranteed.

"This is insane," she murmured, scrolling through the details. "I can't possibly... To even be thinking about it."

But the thought lingered as she moved through her nightly routine. In the bathroom mirror, she studied her reflection… the vibrant red hair, the green eyes, the curves her husband hadn't touched in months, and even when he did, she was left unsatisfied.

Why shouldn't she explore what she'd been missing? Riley certainly wasn't holding back. She knew two wrongs didn't make a right. But she had no clause linked to her name in their prenup. The money in their relationship was all hers, excluding what Riley made working as a lawyer.

Her encounter with Grayson at the restaurant kept replaying in her mind. The look in his eyes when he saw her… not Joy Smith, but Honey Johnson. The way he'd looked at her with genuine interest before she'd shut him down with her accusation.

"I don't cheat," he'd said with such conviction.

Honey sighed, pressing her forehead against the cool mirror. Maybe there were still decent men in the world. Just not the one she'd married. But Grayson wasn't for her. It didn't matter the spike in her blood pressure when he looked at her tonight. He was her boss.

Honey stepped into the bedroom, her gaze landing on the bed she and Riley shared. The king-size mattress with its white sheets. Had he brought Brittany here? Had he taken the nineteen-year-old housekeeper in their marital bed while Honey worked late?

She shuddered, a wave of disgust crawling across her skin. The thought of sleeping there tonight made her stomach turn. Even with fresh sheets, she couldn't bear the thought of lying where they might have been together.

"Not happening," she whispered.

She turned away from the bed, then left the room and walked down the hallway to the linen closet, pulling out clean sheets, a spare duvet, and pillowcases that still had their packaging creases. The guest room hadn't been made up in months.

Honey made up the bed, and fluffing pillows with perhaps more force than necessary. Each snap of fabric felt like a small declaration of independence.

When she finished, she stood back and looked at her handiwork. It wasn't just a bed for tonight. It was the first step toward something else, a life where she didn't accept less than she deserved.

As she slipped into bed, her phone pinged with a text from Ben: Got initial surveillance photos. Meeting tomorrow?

Honey responded quickly: Yes. Your office. 10 AM?

Confirmation came immediately. She set her phone aside, lying back against her pillows. The bed was smaller to she felt happy and she didn't miss Riley's presence. She missed something else entirely… the intimacy she'd never actually experienced, the pleasure she'd been denied. Riley didn't cuddle at all, always telling her it made him uncomfortable. No… life had to be better than this.

Before she could overthink it, she picked up her phone again and navigated to the application form Lauren had sent. She filled it out methodically, detailing her preferences and boundaries without allowing herself to hesitate. When she reached the section asking for her club name, the identity she'd assume inside The Velvet Room… she paused.

Not Honey. Not Joy. Something new. Something that reflected what she was seeking.

She typed "Desire" into the field, then deleted it. That wasn’t her, she didn’t even know her own desires yet.

After a moment's consideration, she simply entered "Red." Simple. A nod to her natural hair color that Riley had never appreciated, asking her, after they married, to dye her hair blonde.

She submitted the application before she could change her mind, then set her phone on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. In the darkness, her pulse thrummed with anticipation and fear. What was she doing? This wasn't like her at all.

Or perhaps it was exactly like her… the real her, buried beneath years of compromise and Riley's gaslighting and the professional mask of Joy Smith.

Sleep eluded her as her mind filled with possibilities. By the time dawn broke, she'd made her decision. She would see this through. One night at The Velvet Room couldn't hurt. One opportunity to discover if the problem truly was her, as Riley had claimed, or if she was capable of pleasure with the right partner.

One night to be someone else entirely. She didn’t have to carry that thought with her into anything.

Saturday, October 7th 10:00AM

The next morning, Honey dressed carefully in a tailored pantsuit she had bought last month but never worn… it was neither Joy's frumpy work clothes nor the sexy dress from last night, but something in between, professional yet feminine.

Ben greeted her with a nod, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.

"Good to see the Honey I remembered," he said, sliding a folder toward her. "I have to say the file you supplied helped get this information a lot faster."

Honey opened it to find a series of photos: Riley and a young blonde woman… definitely Brittany, their housekeeper, entering a hotel, his hand possessively on her lower back. Another showed them in the hotel bar, leaning intimately toward each other. The girl wasn't even old enough to drink. A third photo captured them kissing in the elevator before the doors closed.

"These were taken yesterday afternoon," Ben explained. "They spent three hours in the room before he returned to his office."

Honey studied the photos with clinical detachment. "He told me he was working late."

"He did go back to the office after their... meeting," Ben said, his tone professional. "Left around 9 PM."

"And after that?"

"Directly to Paul Matthews' apartment. Stayed there for the night."

Honey nodded, unsurprised. "Paul's covering for him. Probably has been for months." She had never liked Paul, found him creepy. At her wedding to Riley, Paul had spent the whole night hitting on all her friends.

"Would seem that way." Ben leaned forward. "There's something else you should know. The girl Brittany. She's been making regular visits to an OB-GYN. Started about ten weeks ago. I tracked down the charges on Riley's credit card, the ones you circled, unsure what they were. You didn't say anything about being pregnant, so I’m guessing it’s her."

The implication hit Honey like a physical blow. "She's pregnant?"