Chapter Ten

"Can't confirm that yet, but I would say yes, at a guess."

Honey closed the folder, her mind racing. If Brittany was pregnant with Riley's child, it sealed it for him. The prenup was iron-clad, and these photos provided ample evidence of infidelity without the pregnancy as the last nail in his coffin.

She had wanted children with Riley when they had first married. But he had wanted to wait. Then last year, he had talked about having a baby… It had been she who had said she wasn't ready. She wanted babies, but the thought of it at that moment had made her feel unsettled.

"I need to move quickly," she said finally.

Ben nodded. "I've got enough for the prenup already. The cameras you installed might catch more, but legally, what I have is sufficient. I have signed statements from witnesses who have seen them together."

"I'll contact a divorce attorney on Monday," Honey decided. She would need to cool her heels over the weekend, but her marriage was over. She no longer saw herself as married.

"I'll have someone on him all weekend until you do."

Honey could tell Ben couldn't believe how easy it had been to gather evidence on Riley. He hadn't tried to hide it.

"One more thing," she said as she stood to leave. "Riley doesn't know I'm aware of his affair. I'd like to keep it that way for now. The more I have, the better."

"Of course. Discretion is what you're paying for." Ben walked her to the door. "Good luck, Honey. For what it's worth, you deserve better."

The words echoed Lauren's from the night before. Maybe everyone could see what had taken her years to acknowledge… that she deserved more than what Riley had given her.

Outside, Honey checked her phone to find an email notification that made her breathe catch. Her application to The Velvet Room had been approved. She'd been granted provisional membership, pending a final in-person interview scheduled for that evening. Oh my god.

She stared at the screen, heart racing. It was happening. Last night she had too many and had filled out the online application. She couldn't go, could she? It wasn't right. But hell, she had just found out that not only was her husband cheating, he had made another woman—no, a teenager pregnant. Yes, she could go and see what she had been missing all these years. Maybe a stranger was exactly what she needed.

Her phone buzzed with another notification. It was from her doctor’s office, the results from yesterday’s tests. Hands trembling, she opened the message. All tests clear. No STDs detected. Relief hit so hard her eyes stung. At least Riley hadn’t left her with something she couldn’t cure. The clean results felt like a small mercy amid the wreckage of her marriage.

Tonight, she would take the first step toward reclaiming her sexuality, her pleasure, her power. She didn't care about how Riley would feel if he found out because he sure as hell hadn't cared about her feelings.

First, though, she needed to return home and face Riley because the cameras showed he had finally returned to their apartment. She steeled herself for the confrontation, knowing she couldn't show her hand just yet.

When she walked in, Riley was lounging on the couch, the same couch where she'd found the pink thong… scrolling through his phone. He glanced up, his expression briefly registering surprise at her appearance. The tailored pantsuit was a far cry from her usual weekend attire of sweats and oversized t-shirts unless they were going out. Then she wore clothes he approved of. God, that sounded pathetic.

"Where have you been?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice. Rich, coming from him.

"Brunch with Lauren and Maggie," she lied smoothly. "We made the plans last night."

Riley's eyes narrowed slightly. "You look... different."

"New outfit," she said with a casual shrug.

He snorted. "Waste of money if you ask me. You trying to impress someone?" He had been happy with her work disguise of Joy Smith. Now Honey questioned why. Was it because he could tell people she didn't work? Make people feel sorry for him? Not like she needed to of course.

But the cruelty of his comment didn't sting as it once might have. She knew now it was just another of his tactics to keep her confidence low, to ensure she wouldn't recognize her own worth. Realizing her husband was cheating on her had changed her. She was free.

"Just wanted a change," she replied, moving past him toward their bedroom. "I have some work to catch up on. I'll change and lock myself in the office for a few hours." Anything not to spend time with him.

"Whatever." Riley returned his attention to his phone. "I'm going out later anyway. Paul's having people over. You can come if you want."

Riley asked if she wanted to come, knowing she would say no. He knew she didn't like Paul. He was playing her. How would he react if she said she would love to come? Honey bit back a sarcastic response. "Have fun." She had her own plans tonight and they didn't include being anywhere near her soon to be ex-husband.

In the bedroom, she closed the door and exhaled slowly. That hadn't been as difficult as she'd expected. The distance between them had grown so vast that Riley barely nice to her anymore.

She changed into more comfortable clothes and headed into the home office to work like she said. She then opened her laptop to check her work email, the mindless routine helping to calm her nerves. To her surprise, there was a message from Grayson Taylor, sent yesterday at 4:15 PM: Boston presentation adequate. Changes approved. Talk Monday. GT

From Grayson, "adequate" was high praise indeed. She smiled slightly, remembering their encounter at the restaurant. Would he be so dismissive if he knew Joy Smith and the redhead from the bar were one and the same? Never going to happen, thank God.

A text arrived then: Your membership interview is confirmed for 9 PM. The car will collect you at 8:30.

She had given them the address of a hotel four blocks away, unwilling to risk being picked up directly from her apartment. No traces, no connections to her real life. That was the whole point, after all.

It was only when she heard the front door close did Honey go back into their bedroom because she hadn't moved her wardrobe only where she was sleeping.

She opened her closet, pushing aside the drab clothing that comprised Joy Smith's wardrobe, searching for something appropriate for her interview at The Velvet Room. The email had specified "elegant attire," suggesting something that would transition well to the club itself should her membership be finalized that night.

At the back of her closet hung a dress she'd bought on impulse years ago but never worn, a deep emerald silk dress that complemented her red hair and green eyes. Riley had sneered when she'd brought it home, calling it “desperate” and “trying too hard,” “look like a slut.” She'd hidden it away, too tired to argue.

Honey pulled it out now, holding it against herself in the mirror. The cut was timeless, sophisticated yet undeniably sensual with its low back and slim silhouette. Perfect.

She laid it carefully over the footboard of the bed. The thought of wearing it gave her a small thrill. She'd spent so long hiding herself, dimming her light to make Riley comfortable, she had been Joy for work to make it on her own, never to use her own name. Tonight was different… it would be the first step toward reclaiming all she'd suppressed.

In no time at all, Honey had transformed herself once again. The emerald dress fit perfectly, skimming her curves without clinging too tightly. She'd swept her red hair into an elegant updo, with tendrils framing her face. Her makeup was sophisticated, smoky eyes, defined cheekbones, deep red lips.

She added diamond studs, her father's gift on her twenty-first birthday, and slipped into black heels that brought her to just under six feet tall. The woman in the mirror looked confident, desirable, and, if she did say so herself, hot.

She looked like Honey Johnson was meant to look.

At 8:15, Honey left the apartment, walking briskly to the hotel where a sleek black car waited exactly at the appointed time. The driver opened the door without a word, revealing a plush interior with privacy glass separating her from the front seat.

As they pulled away from the curb, Honey realized she hadn't felt this alive in years as she put on her mask. The fear was still there, humming beneath her skin, but it was overshadowed by a sense of liberation. Tonight, in a sense she would shed all her masks. No Joy Smith. No Mrs. Riley Smith. Just "Red," exploring desires long denied.

Eventually, the car stopped before an unmarked building in a converted warehouse district. The architecture was industrial but elegant, with no signage to indicate what lay within. The driver came around to open her door.

"Third floor," he said, handing her a small golden key card. "They're expecting you."

Honey nodded her thanks, showing the guard standing at the door her email proof of her meeting. He nodded and led her to a small, elegantly appointed lobby with a single elevator.

Inside the elevator, there was just one button. She pressed it, and the car began its smooth ascent to the third floor. Her heart pounded, but she kept her posture straight, her expression composed. Unsure what awaited her.

The doors opened to reveal a softly lit reception area where a stunning woman in a tailored black suit and small domino mask stood waiting. Her smile was professional but warm.

"Welcome," she said. "You must be Red."

Honey nodded, finding her voice. "Yes."