Secrets Behind The Mask

She hides behind ugly suits and fake names. He's done trusting women. When they meet in a masked sex club, neither realizes they've been fighting each other across boardroom tables for eighteen months. At Taylor Industries, she's Joy Smith—the frumpy CFO who drowns her curves in shapeless polyester and wearing a wig. At home, she's the forgotten wife of a cheating lawyer who hasn't touched her in so long she's starting to wonder if she's broken. When she finds hot pink lace panties stuffed in her couch cushions...definitely not hers, it's not heartbreak she feels. It's freedom. Grayson Taylor doesn't do relationships anymore. Not after walking in on his actress fiancée with another woman. Now he channels everything into hostile takeovers and board meetings, especially the ones where his overcautious CFO fights him on every goddamn acquisition. Joy Smith is brilliant, infuriating, and funny when he pushes all her buttons. But Honey is tired of being invisible. Tired of never having felt real pleasure. So, when her best friend gives her the details of The Velvet Room—Manhattan's most exclusive masked club—she promises herself just one night. One night to find out if her husband's right, if she really is frigid, or if she's just never been touched by the right hands. She doesn't expect the masked stranger who claims her the second she walks in. Doesn't expect the chemistry that ignites between them, the way he makes her body sing, or the orgasms that leave her shaking. Doesn't expect him to hand her an email address with one command: "Only me. No one else touches you."

Chapter One

Thursday, October 5th

Grayson knew he should have been in Boston by now, and yet, there he was, standing in front of his Upper West Side brownstone, a victim of the changeable New York weather. Hail had pummeled the tarmac, which in turn had dismissed all hope of air travel, and sent him home for the night. He had rebooked a flight early tomorrow morning with enough time he needed to arrive for the meeting in Boston… Just

In turn, it gave him an opportunity to surprise Morgan.

Glancing down the street at the brownstones, this was a great place to raise kids, and when he had slipped the engagement ring on Morgan's finger six months ago, she had agreed to move in and have their family here someday.

Using his key, he let himself in, soft jazz drifted through the hallway to greet him. Grayson dropped his briefcase by the door, loosened his tie. He considered calling out, announcing his arrival, but paused when he heard laughter coming from the master bedroom. Two women. Morgan and... someone else. Disappointed that they wouldn't have the evening to themselves, but he really couldn't complain. He hadn't planned to be here. If Morgan had invited a friend over to keep her company that was fine by him.

Grayson smiled. More laughter echoed down the hall, followed by whispers he couldn't quite make out. He hung his coat on the rack, figuring he'd grab a drink before interrupting their girl talk. Heading into the lounge to grab a whiskey before seeing what Morgan was up to. Knowing his luck, they were going through Morgan’s wardrobe and there would be a mountain of clothing laying over their bed.

The laughter grew louder as he approached the bedroom. Giggles. Hushed words. A sound that might have been a moan. He stopped, hand hovering over the doorknob.

A voice that wasn't Morgan's said, "Baby just like that."

Morgan responded with a sound Grayson recognized all too well. Pleasure.

His stomach dropped. The hairs on his arms stood up. A cold feeling spread through his chest. He knew before touching the door what he was about to walk in on.

But he pushed open the door anyway. He couldn't hide from the knowledge. He needed to face it and them head on. Just like he handled business.

But he wasn't quite ready for the sight that greeted him.

Morgan lay sprawled across their king-size bed, naked, her blonde hair fanned out across his pillow. On top of her was a brunette woman, equally naked, the fingers of one hand tangled in Morgan's hair, he couldn't see where her other hand was, but he could guess.

Time stopped. The world tilted on its axis as Grayson stood frozen in the doorway, unable to process what he was seeing. He’d known—sure—even prepared himself for it—but seeing it was something else.

Then Morgan looked up as if sensing him, her eyes widening with shock.

"Grayson!" She scrambled out from under the other woman, grabbing for the sheet. "You're supposed to be in Boston!"

The brunette sat up, making no effort to cover herself, a smirk playing at her lips.

Grayson recognized her. Tina. His sister Emma's friend. The one he'd meet at his sister's engagement party.

"Flight got canceled." His voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else. "Hail."

Morgan pulled the sheet up to her chin. "Baby, I can explain."

Tina laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Can you really?"

Grayson stepped into the room. The jazz still played from the stereo system in the corner of the room, which explained why they hadn't heard him come in. He hadn't tried to be quiet, because he hadn't realized what she had been hiding from him. That thought made him ask his next question.

"How long?" His voice was steady. Calmer than he felt.

Morgan looked at Tina, then back at him. "It's not what you think."

"How. Long." Each word clipped, precise.

"It's nothing serious, just—"

"Answer the question, Morgan." His hands balled into fists at his sides.

She looked down at the rumpled sheets. "Soon after Emma's engagement party."

Eight months. Eight months of lies. The engagement party. The day Morgan had met Tina as well. They must have started up within days of meeting each other. Then two months later he had proposed to her, and she had said yes while fucking a woman on the side.

"Eight months," he repeated the words, testing their weight. "Let's get this straight you've been fucking my sister's friend for eight months."

"Don't be crude." Morgan reached for a silk robe hanging off the bedpost. "It's just physical. It doesn't mean anything."

Tina stretched, catlike and unconcerned. "Don't sell yourself short, Morgan. It means something to me." Clearly unconcerned about being caught out. He had never liked Tina. But he could not tell his younger sister who her friends should be. Emma was twenty-seven after all.

Grayson ran a hand through his hair. Eight months. Their entire engagement. A lie. Not just their engagement but their whole relationship.

"You brought her into our bed." Not just that but their lives.

Morgan slipped into the robe, tying it at the waist. "You're making too big a deal out of this. It's just sex."

"In our bed." He felt like throwing up. He would burn the bed before he slept in this room again.

"Why not?" Tina asked, finally reaching for her clothes scattered across the floor. "Morgan said you'd be gone until tomorrow."

Grayson didn't look her way. She did not seem to care that she was standing in front of him naked. The woman had shown no shame.

The casualness of their betrayal struck him like a physical blow. They'd planned this. Waited for him to leave. How many other times had this happened? Had they laughed that he was a fool.

"Get out." He directed the words at Tina.

She raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Get the fuck out of my house."

Morgan approached him with her hands raised in a placating gesture. "Really, Grayson, I just don't understand why you are so upset. Let's talk about this like adults."

"Like adults?" He laughed, the sound hollow. "You've been cheating on me for eight months, and you want to talk like adults?"

"It's not cheating." Morgan placed a hand on his chest. "Not really. Tina is a woman not a man."

Grayson’s stepped away from her hand as his eyes widened, he realized she didn't understand cheating was cheating; it didn't matter the sex of the other person. Was she truly that stupid, or did she have the morals of an alley cat? This was not someone he wanted raising his kids let alone in his life.

If he thought he was in shock before, her next words made everything even worse.

"We could invite you to join us sometime. You might like it. Isn't it every man's dream to have two women at once."

Chapter Two

Now Grayson wasn't against others enjoy whatever sexual enjoyment they wanted. But he believed in one partner at a time. The multi partner relationship thing just wasn't for him. He had wanted what his parents had with maybe a little extra spice. He viewed his parents' marriage as the ideal, after thirty-six years of marriage with two children and they are still going strong, the fairy tale. Looking at Morgan now, he realized he wasn't going to have that with her.

He didn't take his eyes off her, knowing now he had never really known the woman he'd planned to marry. "Join you?"

"Don't knock it till you've tried it." Tina pulled on her pants, not bothering with underwear. "Morgan says you're quite... skilled."

The thought made him physically ill. "Get out," he repeated. "Both of you."

Morgan's face hardened. "This is my home too."

"No." Grayson stepped back from her touch. "It's not. Not anymore. You forfeited that right once you cheated."

He turned and walked out of the bedroom, down the hall to the living room. Behind him, he heard Morgan calling his name, then hushed argument with Tina. He ignored them, heading straight for the bar cart in the corner.

He poured three fingers of whiskey into a crystal tumbler and downed it in one swallow. The burn in his throat was a welcome distraction from the hollow feeling in his chest.

Eight months of lies…. Had it really been only eight months? With Tina it had been eight months. Had she been with anyone other than Tina? If she didn't see it as being with a woman as cheating maybe Tina was just the latest. How many had there been in their twelve months together. He wasn't going to ask just knowing there had been Tina was the end for him.

He'd been planning their future while she'd been sneaking around behind his back. With a woman she'd met at his sister's party. His sister's so called best friend.

He poured another drink, sipped it slower this time. He needed to deal with the trash before getting drunk.

From the bedroom, he could hear them still talking, voices raised now.

Grayson tuned it out, focusing instead on the amber liquid in his glass.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Tina appeared first, fully dressed now, her dark hair smoothed back. She slung a designer bag over her shoulder and paused at the entrance to the living room.

"For what it's worth, Morgan is the one who pursued me." She didn't sound apologetic, merely stating a fact.

Grayson didn't look up. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"You know you really could have joined us; I wouldn't have minded I swing both ways."

Grayson didn't even reply, only shuddered at the very idea.

At first she looked angry at his reaction before a mask fell over her face, and she shrugged and headed toward the front door. A moment later, it clicked shut behind her.

Morgan emerged from the bedroom wearing jeans and a sweater, her face flushed with anger. "Really, Grayson, you have no right to speak to her like that."

"In what universe do you get to dictate how I respond to finding another person in our bed with you?" His voice remained low, controlled. The kind of control that terrified his business opponents.

"Really Grayson why are you so upset. It's not like I was with another man."

"Christ, Morgan." He set his glass down worried he might crush it in his hand if he didn't. "That's your defense? That it doesn't count because she's a woman?"

She crossed her arms, defiant. "You're overreacting."

"Overreacting." He laughed, the sound bitter even to his own ears. "You've been fucking someone else behind my back for our entire engagement plus some, in our bed, and I'm overreacting?"

"It's just a little fun and I said you could join us. What's the big deal."

"What's the big deal?" He moved away from her, suddenly needing distance between them. "It's betrayal. It's lies. It's disrespect."

"Look, I was going to tell you—"

"When? After the wedding? On our tenth anniversary?" He gestured toward the ring on her finger.

Morgan's chin lifted. "I love you, Grayson. This thing with Tina—it's just physical."

"Love." The word tasted sour in his mouth. "You don't know the first thing about love. You don't do this to someone you love."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" His control slipped, just enough for his voice to rise. "What's not fair is making me believe you wanted the same things I did. A life together. Children. Commitment."

"I do want those things."

"With someone you're cheating on?"

"It's not like that with Tina. It's not—"

"Stop." He held up a hand. "Just stop. I don't care how you justify it to yourself. We're done."

Her expression changed, calculation replacing indignation. "You don't mean that."

"I've never meant anything more in my life."

"Baby, think about what you're throwing away." She approached him, hips swaying slightly the way they did when she wanted something. "We're good together. Everyone says so."

"Everyone doesn't know you've been lying to me."

She reached for him, one hand sliding up his chest. "I made a mistake. I'll end things with Tina. We can go on like before."

Grayson caught her wrist, stopping her. He didn't want her touching him. "There's no 'we' anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous." Her voice hardened. "You're angry. I get it. But you're not walking away from everything we've built."

"Everything we've built?" He released her wrist. "You mean the life you've been undermining since day one? What the hell was I to you?"

"Gray—"

"I want you out of this house tonight." His tone left no room for argument. "Take whatever's yours. Leave your key." He would be having the locks changed but asking for the key showed her he was not backing down.

Morgan's eyes widened. Her normal confidence leaving her face. She had really believed she could change his mind. What replaced it was genuine panic. "You're serious."

He didn't give a fuck. "Deadly."

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"That's not my problem anymore." He turned away from her, pouring another drink. "Call Tina."

Silence stretched between them, taut and heavy. Then Morgan's voice, lower now, threaded with something like desperation.

"I can't believe you mean this Grayson... You love me."

Grayson looked at her over his shoulder. "No, I'm not in love with you Morgan… I was in love with the part you played. I have to say you are truly a fantastic actress… But it wasn't real." Ice coated his words now. "Pack your things and get out." It was the same ice that was encasing his heart. He had changed for her, in ways she wouldn't understand. But no more. From now on, Grayson was going to be himself. If he never found the right partner to fit his needs, then so be it. Emma will have kids someday, and he could make them his heirs.

She opened her mouth to argue further, then seemed to think better of it. With a final glare, she stalked back to the bedroom.

Grayson sank onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. The whiskey couldn't dull the sharp edges of betrayal or the hollow feeling spreading through his chest. He'd trusted her. Believed in their future together.

What a fucking joke.

Morgan emerged twenty minutes later dragging a white suitcase, her makeup perfect despite the situation. She was always so concerned with appearances.

"I'm leaving for now," she said, stopping by the door. "When you calm down, you'll realize what you're throwing away. Call me and we will talk."

Grayson didn't respond, didn't even look at her.

The door closed behind her with a decisive click.

In the sudden silence, he pulled out his phone and made two calls. First to his security team to change the locks. The other to reinstate his membership to the club. The part of himself he had given up for Morgan.

Chapter Three

Same night Honey & Riley's Apartment Thursday 5th 8:07pm

Honey dragged herself up the last few stairs to her apartment, briefcase in one hand, takeout in the other. The day had been exhausting and her back ached from hunching over spreadsheets for nine hours straight, and her eyes burned from staring at financial projections until the numbers blurred together.

All to prepare Grayson Taylor's Boston presentation. She wasn't one to leave things to the last minute, but they had only sent her the numbers this morning, giving her little time to confirm everything and give her detailed report to Grayson.

"The man couldn't even say, 'thank you,'" she muttered, fumbling with her keys. Not that she'd stuck around long enough to hear if he would. The moment she'd emailed the completed files; she'd bolted from the office before he could find another impossible task for her to complete. She didn't think he would, but she just hadn't taken the chance.

The apartment was silent when she entered…no surprise there. Riley had texted earlier: Partner dinner tonight. Don't wait up. There had been a heap of late nights lately… client dinners and paperwork to complete for the meeting the next day.

Honey kicked off her sensible pumps, letting them fall where they may. The clock on the wall read 8:07 PM. She sighed, knowing she should be grateful for the quiet evening ahead. Just her, some Thai food, and maybe some mindless TV.

She peeled off her work blazer… a drab, oversized one that helped maintain her "Joy Smith" work persona, and tossed it onto the kitchen counter. Next came the glasses she didn't need, followed by the hairpins that kept her high-quality shoulder length brown wig in place. It had been made for her and high quality because her father would kill her if she dyed her natural red hair.

Her reflection in the window caught her eye. The transformation was already beginning, starting with Joy fading, Honey emerging.

She went to the living room in her stockinged feet, set down the bag of takeout, and flopped onto the sofa. Something stuffed at the back of the sofa cushion caught her eye. Maybe because it was hot pink.

"What the—" Honey shifted, digging between the cushions where her fingers caught the lace fabric. She pulled it out, holding it up.

A hot pink thong dangled from her fingertips.

Honey stared at it, her mind refusing to process what she was seeing. The garment was definitely not hers… she hadn't worn anything remotely that color since college. And it certainly wasn't something Riley would wear unless he had taken up crossdressing. So, there was no reason for the tiny piece of clothing to be in their home.

That left only one possibility.

Her stomach lurched. The Thai food forgotten, she dropped the underwear as if it had burned her. For a moment, she sat perfectly still, the apartment's silence suddenly oppressive rather than peaceful.

"That son of a bitch," she whispered. Her husband was cheating on her.

She should have suspected, of course. The late nights and last-minute business trips. Let's not forget the scent of perfume on his clothes. Which he had always explained away, calling her paranoid. The way he barely touched her anymore. Not that she thought that was honestly a big loss.

But suspecting an affair was one thing. Holding physical evidence was another entirely.

Honey picked up the thong again, forcing herself to examine it more carefully. Expensive, by the feel of the fabric. The size was extra small. A laugh bubbled up in her throat.

All those times she'd blamed herself for not being exciting enough, for being too focused on work, for letting herself become the dull, sexless woman Riley claimed she was. And all along, he'd been betraying her.

She should be devastated. She should be crying or screaming. Instead, a strange calm settled over her. Riley's cheating wasn't a surprise—not if she was honest with herself. She just hadn't wanted to face it. To admit she had made a mistake marrying him. Having the proof that something was indeed going on gave her the permission she needed to leave him. She just needed undeniable proof to keep what was hers.

She had been a virgin on her wedding night. So, leaving him wouldn't be easy for her. She had taken vows, and she took those vows very seriously. She wished now in a lot of ways she had taken him for a test drive before their wedding. It might have saved her this.

Honey pulled out her phone, opened the camera app, and took several photos of the thong from different angles, making sure to capture it against the backdrop of their living room. Then she walked to the kitchen and dropped the panties into a zip lock bag before she dropped them into her handbag. Grabbing a wine glass and a bottle of red wine, she headed back into the living room, she uncorked the wine. Well, discovering your husband's infidelity was reason enough to get drunk if nothing else.

She poured herself a generous glass and settled back onto the sofa avoiding the spot where she'd found the thong and finally opened her takeout. As she ate her Pad Thai directly from the container, she scrolled through her phone until she found the contact she was looking for: Ben Walters, the private investigator her father had used for corporate matters in the past.

Honey: Need your services for a personal matter. Discretion essential. Available to meet tomorrow?

She hit send, then set her phone aside. No crying. No desperate calls to friends. No confronting Riley when he eventually stumbled home, lying and denying everything and gaslighting her. He was very good at that. Blaming her. No, she was going to play this smart.

He really was an idiot, or so cocky he had believed he wouldn't get caught.

Her phone buzzed with Ben's response:

Ben: Hi Honey, Available at 11:30 AM. My office or yours?

Honey took another sip of wine.

Honey: Yours. I'll be there. Thank you.

She set down her phone and leaned back against the cushions. For months… no, years, really, she'd been living an unhappy life. And for what? A man who couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

The pink thong wasn't just evidence of Riley's betrayal. It was permission to stop pretending. To get on with her life.

Her phone buzzed again, picking it up, she saw a message from Riley: Dinner running late. Staying at Paul's place tonight. Too much to drink.

A fresh wave of anger surged through her. She knew Paul. His "buddy" from law school who lived in a sleek bachelor pad downtown. The perfect alibi. How many times had Riley used this excuse? How many times had Paul been willing to cover for him? Birds of a feather.

She didn't bother responding to the text he could see she had read it. Instead, she finished her wine and poured another glass.

Three years of marriage. Three years of being miserable, of pretending to be someone she wasn't, of tolerating Riley's increasingly controlling behavior. Three years of no orgasms.

That last thought made her snort into her wine glass. Riley had convinced her she was frigid, that her inability to climax with him was her problem, not his. Yet another lie in a marriage built on them. Because she had become wetter with her fantasies and fingers than Riley had ever made her.

Honey retrieved her laptop from her briefcase and opened a new document. If she was going to do this, hire Ben dad's PI, gather evidence, divorce Riley, she needed to be methodical. That's what she was good at, after all. Seeing patterns in numbers was her thing.

She began typing, creating a timeline of suspicious events over the past months. Late nights. Unexplained expenses on their credit card statements. The teenage housekeeper Riley had insisted on hiring, against Honey's objections.

The housekeeper. Nineteen years old. Perky, blonde, and constantly fluttering around, Honey had dismissed her own discomfort as petty jealousy. Brittany would fit into those panties very easily. But she was no live-in housekeeper, therefore, no reason for them to be here.

"Fucking idiot," she muttered to herself, gulping more wine, before holding her glass up in a toast.

"Thank you, whoever you are," she whispered to the absent owner of the pink thong. "You just set me free."

Chapter Four

Friday, October 6th 6:45AM

Honey woke the next morning with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like she'd been chewing on cotton balls. The empty wine bottle on the coffee table explained why. She groaned, pushing herself up from the couch where she'd fallen asleep, still in yesterday's work clothes.

She had drunk the whole bottle. One thing she would not let Riley turn her into is a lush. She was going to be better off without him. A big sign they shouldn't be together was when she had found out about his cheating the only thing she felt was relief not heartbreak.

But what a stupid, arrogant shit he was to think she would stay with him or was it that he thought he could control her enough not to use the prenup. He would get nothing and now she had the proof she needed to make sure of that.

Her laptop sat open beside her. Pulling it toward her, Honey looked to see where she had finished last night. The document she'd created now spanning several pages of meticulously dated incidents. Even drunk, she'd been thorough. It was both impressive and depressing. Sighing she saved the file and closed her laptop.

Rubbing a hand over her eyes before looking around, the morning sun streamed through the living room windows, harsh and unforgiving. Honey glanced at her phone to check the time 6:45 AM. She had plenty of time before she needed to be at work, but she needed to get herself together.

She stumbled to the bathroom, avoiding her reflection in the mirror as she stripped off yesterday's clothes. Under the hot spray of the shower, her mind cleared enough to form a plan for the day. Meet with the PI, gather evidence, contact a divorce lawyer, and a few other things she needed to arrange. But most importantly act normal at work.

No one at Taylor Industries could know what was happening in her personal life. Especially not Grayson Taylor, who would no doubt use any sign of weakness against her in their next boardroom battle.

After drying off, she pulled her red hair into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, before pulling her brown wig into place. She applied minimal makeup, just enough to hide the effects of last night's wine, then donned her glasses, ones with clear lenses that helped complete her transformation into Joy Smith, CFO.

She chose a modest brown pantsuit, that was two sizes too big and had no shape whatsoever. The kind that made people underestimate her. It had always served her well. It wasn't as ugly as some of her outfits, but no one bothered to look passed the blah hair and glasses. This was all so she could make a name for herself and not ride on her father’s coattails. She was no nepo baby.

As she gathered her things, her phone buzzed with a text from Riley: Coming home to shower and change. I know you must be on the way to work. See you tonight, Baby.

Honey's jaw tightened. So, he'd spent the night with his mistress and now expected to waltz back in like nothing had happened. Little did he know she was working behind the scenes to kick his ass to the curb.

She typed back: At work all day. Then dinner with Lauren and Maggie tonight. A lie, but she couldn't bear to see him, not yet. Not until she had her plan firmly in place.

She headed to the office and started work. But was always checking the clock counting down the minutes until she saw Ben. In between working she made two phone calls, one to her doctor's office to get bloods done to make sure her cheater of a husband hadn't given her anything deadly. If he had she just might just kill him. The other call was to an electronic store, after taking her payment would deliver her order by this afternoon at the office.

At 11:25, Honey sat in the waiting room of Ben Walters' office in a nondescript building in Midtown. The space was deliberately bland with its beige walls, generic artwork, comfortable but unmemorable furniture. Nothing about it suggested that behind these walls.

"Mrs. Smith?" A receptionist appeared. "Mr. Walters will see you now."

Honey followed her down a short hallway to a corner office where Ben Walters rose from behind his desk to greet her. In his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and the physique of a former cop who still kept in shape, he had the kind of face that blended into a crowd… perfect for his profession.

Ben, ever the professional, didn't say anything about her getup.

"Honey, it's been a while," he said, gesturing to a chair. "Your father mentioned you'd gotten married."

"I did. Three years ago." Honey sat, placing her purse on her lap. "And that marriage is the reason I need to speak with you today."

Ben nodded, settling back in his chair. "I assumed as much. Personal matters usually involve marriages… the beginning or the end of them."

Honey unzipped her purse and removed the plastic bag containing the pink thong. She placed it on his desk.

"I found this in my couch cushions last night. It's not mine."

Ben didn't blink. He'd likely seen far worse in his line of work. "Your husband is?"

"Riley Smith. He's a corporate attorney at Matthews & Booth." She handed over a printed sheet with Riley's information, the addresses of his office and the gym he frequented. "I need irrefutable evidence of his infidelity. Photos, video if possible. Enough to uphold the infidelity clause in our prenuptial agreement."

Ben studied the information. "Any idea who he might be involved with?"

"I suspect our housekeeper, Brittany Davis. Nineteen years old. Works Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays from nine to three." Honey removed another sheet from her purse. "Her information is here, along with a list of nights Riley claimed to be working late or staying at his friend’s apartment, his details are also on the sheet."

Ben's eyebrows rose slightly at her thoroughness. "You've done half my job already."

"I like to be prepared for anything."

"So, I see." He leaned forward. "What's your timeline on this?"

Honey thought for a moment. "I need to secure my financial position before making any moves. The evidence first, then I'll consult with a divorce attorney. I have hidden cameras with motion sensors getting delivered to my office this afternoon. I can set them up myself."

"I won't even insult you by discussing money," Ben said. "Given the nature of the case, I'd estimate two weeks max of surveillance before we have what you need. If he is careful, it could take longer."

"That's acceptable." Honey nodded. "I'd like daily reports. I will also, in turn, send you anything I know." Honey didn't think it would take that long. Riley was cocky and thought he had her under control.

"Of course." Ben scribbled some notes. "One more thing… do you want to know details beyond what's necessary for the prenup? Some clients prefer to know everything, others just want the basics."

The question caught her off guard. Did she want to know if Riley whispered the same words to this girl that he'd once said to her when they were dating and first married? Honey didn't think it would upset her just dent her pride a little that she had been foolish to trust him.

"Just what's necessary for legal purposes," she decided. "I don't need the details of everything."

Ben nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I'll get started today."

"Send me an invoice and I'll wire a retainer this afternoon." Honey stood, extending her hand. "Thank you for your discretion."

"Always." He shook her hand firmly. "I'm sorry you're going through this, Mrs. Smith."

"It will be Ms Johnson soon and don't be," Honey said, surprised to find she meant it. "This marriage has been over for a long time. I just needed a reason to admit it to myself. Can I ask you not to tell my father? I will when it's time."

Back in her car, Honey checked her watch. She had time to grab lunch before heading to the office. Her phone buzzed with an email notification. Grayson Taylor, subject line: URGENT: Boston Deal Revisions.

She sighed, opening the message.

Smith,

Boston presentation needs to be redone. New parameters attached. Need completed slides by 4 PM today for my second meeting with them at 4:30 PM.

GT

No please, no thank you. Just demands, as usual. What made it worse was that she'd spent all of yesterday preparing those slides to his exact specifications.

"Goddamnit, Taylor," she muttered, starting her car. Eating would have to wait. Again. She would just grab a snack from the break room at the office.

Chapter Five

By the time Honey reached her office at Taylor Industries, her professional mask was firmly in place. Joy Smith, plain, reliable, and utterly unmemorable, nodded at the security guard and took the elevator to the executive floor.

Her assistant, Marjorie, greeted her with a concerned look. "Mr. Taylor's been asking for you. Three times in the last hour."

"I had a doctor's appointment," Honey lied smoothly. She did have one after work this afternoon, so not lying really. "The Boston presentation, I know he ended up emailing me."

"He's made significant changes to the proposal. The team's waiting in the conference room for a video meeting with him to go over it."

Honey nodded, striding toward her office to drop off her things. "Tell them I'll be there in a few minutes."

Her office was a reflection of Joy Smith… practical, organized, devoid of personal touches save for a single framed photo of her father on a fishing trip, sunglasses and hat hiding his face. But no photos of Riley.

She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. This was her domain. Here, she was in control, unlike the shambles of her personal life right now.

When she entered the conference room, six pairs of eyes turned to her. On the wall behind the head of the table was Grayson Taylor on the big screen TV, dressed in a charcoal suit, his expression impatient.

"Nice of you to join us, Smith," he drawled. "We've only been waiting forty minutes."

He seemed cranky but Honey didn't take the bait. "I had a medical appointment, Mr. Taylor. One that was scheduled weeks ago. We are all allowed lunch breaks as you are well aware. It's the law."

"More important than the Boston deal?"

"My health?" She met his gaze coolly. "Yes, actually. Had I had more notice I would have been here."

Something flashed in his eyes… surprise, perhaps, that she'd pushed back on something not directly connected to work. Good. Let him be surprised. Today was a day for changes. She was no longer taking shit from anyone including him.

"Well, now that you've graced us with your presence," he gestured to the room he could see on his screen, "we need to revise the entire proposal. They now want a more aggressive growth strategy and are asking for more money."

Honey took her seat, opening her tablet. "The strategy they presented was already at the upper limit of what their current infrastructure can support." She could see what the Nortons were doing. They wanted the highest possible payout for their business. Even though she had proved it wasn't worth the asking price.

"They've secured additional financing. They want to accelerate the timeline."

"By how much?" They wanted more money but had increased the liability by getting finance. It was a CFO’s worst nightmare.

"Fifty percent."

Honey couldn't hide her shock. "That's not acceleration, Mr. Taylor. That's recklessness."

The room went silent. No one contradicted Grayson Taylor, especially not in front of others.

His jaw tightened. "The Nortons disagree, as do I."

"Then, with all due respect, both you and the Nortons need a reality check." She pulled up the original projections on her tablet. "These numbers don't lie. A fifty percent acceleration without corresponding infrastructure investments would collapse their supply chain by Q3."

Grayson leaned forward, his voice dangerously low. "Are you calling me reckless, Smith?"

"I'm calling the proposal reckless," she corrected. "My job is to tell you when the numbers don't add up, not to rubber-stamp bad decisions to make you happy. I'm no yes man… or woman."

The tension in the room was so thick that Grayson wasn't even here. The other executives shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with her. Fucking cowards.

For a long moment, Grayson didn't say anything, from his expression Honey thought he was about to blow. Then, unexpectedly, his lips curved into something almost resembling a smile.

"Show me," he said.

Honey blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Show me why it won't work. Convince me. Talk me through it."

She hesitated only a moment before sharing her screen to everyone in the room and Grayson remotely. For the next twenty minutes, she walked through the supply chain vulnerabilities, the cash flow implications, the market risks. She didn't hold back, didn't soften her assessment to spare his ego. He was wrong, and she was happy to show him.

When she finished, Grayson was watching her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. Not anger, as she'd expected, but something else entirely.

"Everyone out," he said suddenly. "Except Smith."

The room cleared quickly, no one wanting to witness whatever was coming next. When the door closed behind the last person, Honey braced herself for the explosion. Was he going to fire her?

But the explosion didn't come, instead, she watched the TV screen as Grayson leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You've never spoken to me like that before. I mean, we've disagreed in meetings before. I know. But that was almost targeted."

Honey met his gaze steadily. "You've never proposed something this financially unsound before. I mean you take risks and I haven't always agreed but this could potentially be dangerous to the company."

"And if I override your objections?"

"Then I'll document my concerns in writing, as is my fiduciary duty to the shareholders." She gathered her tablet, preparing to leave.

"Smith, we are still buying this company."

"You're still going to buy them? Are you insane?" She realised her voice was raised. The man may be gorgeous, but he had a god complex.

Grayson lifted an eyebrow before nodding. "Yes, I'm still going to put in an offer. But with the information you have given me, the offer will be reduced by 20%."

Honey stared at him, disbelief warring with reluctant admiration.

"Why employ me if you’re going to do whatever the hell you like anyway?" Heat rose in her cheeks.

Grayson's expression remained maddeningly neutral.

"To keep me honest," Grayson finally replied, his voice measured. "To force me to justify my decisions, especially when I'm about to do something... unconventional."

Honey stared at him, trying to determine if he was mocking her. The man was infuriating. One moment he seemed to value her expertise, the next he was steamrolling over her objections.

"So, you want me to tell you when you're making a mistake, but you'll do it anyway?"

"I want you to give me all the information. Then I make the final call." His eyes narrowed slightly. "That's how this works, Smith. I take the risks; you provide the guardrails."

"Those aren't guardrails. They're warnings of a cliff you seem determined to drive off."

A short, unexpected laugh escaped him. "God, he was… infuriating."

"It's an accurate one." Honey stood her ground, clutching her tablet to her chest like a shield. "This acquisition at the price they're asking is financial suicide, even with the twenty percent reduction."

"Perhaps. But there's something about the Nortons' operation you're missing." Grayson tapped something on his keyboard, and a new document appeared in her inbox. "Their R&D department has developed a proprietary manufacturing process that will cut production costs by thirty-five percent once implemented allowing us to put more money into the supply chain."

Honey quickly scanned the document, her financial mind automatically recalculating the projections. "This wasn't in the original information given to me."

"Because they don't know what they have. Their departments don't seem to have great communication." Grayson's eyes gleamed with the predatory satisfaction she'd seen whenever he outmaneuvered a competitor. "Their technical team was telling me during a factory tour this morning."

"Why wasn't this information given to us during the meeting?"

"Because I don't want the rest of the team to know just yet. Leaks happen."

Grudgingly, Honey had to admit this changed the equation. "Even so, the timeline—"

"Will be adjusted based on your analysis. Eighteen to twenty months instead of twelve." He folded his hands on the desk. "You've done your job, Smith. You've forced me to justify my decision with actual data. That's why I employ you."

She felt oddly deflated. He had been ten steps ahead of her the entire time. "I still wish you had shared this information from the beginning."

"And missed watching you tear apart my proposal with that surgical precision of yours? Where's the fun in that?"

The comment caught her off guard. Was Grayson Taylor actually... enjoying their confrontation? God, he was… infuriating.

"I'm glad my professional dismemberment of your business strategy provides entertainment, Mr. Taylor." She couldn't keep the edge from her voice. "Next time, perhaps save us both some time and just present all the relevant facts upfront. You could have sent the files to my email and told me you didn't want everyone to know."

"Where's the fun in that?" His eyes flickered with something that might have been respect. "Have the revised presentation on my desk by four. And Smith?"

"Yes?"

"Good work today." He cut the connection before she could respond.

Honey stood there, staring at the blank screen. Had Grayson Taylor just complimented her? The same man who'd been belittling her conservative financial approach for eighteen months?

She shook her head, gathering her things. She didn't have time to analyze her boss's strange behavior, not with the presentation deadline looming. She would still add her views in the presentation so if this goes south the stockholders will know she was against it.

Chapter Six

By the time Honey finished the Boston presentation, it was just before four. She'd crafted a masterpiece of financial analysis that highlighted both the risks and potential benefits of the acquisition, excluding the information Grayson had uncovered. She sent it to him with minutes to spare before his deadline, but received no response, not even his customary terse "Received."

Her head throbbed from the remnants of last night's wine and hours of staring at a screen. The notification of her doctor's appointment flashed on her phone. Perfect timing. She needed to get those tests done, then she had plans to meet her friends for dinner. Plans she had made after leaving the meeting with Grayson. Maybe a girls' night was exactly what she needed after the last twenty-four hours she'd had.

She gathered her things, making sure to include the package that had been delivered… small, discreet cameras that would help document Riley's infidelity, she hoped. As she headed out, Marjorie looked up from her desk.

"Leaving already, Mrs. Smith? It's only four-thirty."

"Headache," Honey replied, smoothing down her oversized blazer. "I'll finish anything left undone at home over the weekend."

"What if Mr. Taylor calls."

"He has my cell if it's urgent." Honey paused, then added, "But I'm sure it won't be."

As she walked toward the elevator, her phone buzzed with a message. She expected it to be Grayson with some last-minute demand but instead saw it was from her friend Lauren.

So, looking forward to tonight. Maggie confirmed—7:30 at Nonna's?

Honey smiled. Lauren Gardener and Maggie Chase had been her roommates in college, and despite their different career paths, Lauren a rising actress and Maggie a dedicated surgeon… they'd remained close. They were also the only people besides her father and Riley who knew the real Honey Johnson, not the carefully constructed Joy Smith. She didn't see her friends as much as she would have liked. Riley had always made a big deal out of her spending time with them.

Absolutely. Need it more than you know. See you there.

After her doctor's appointment, where the doctor had expedited her tests with a promise to call with results tomorrow afternoon, Honey finally headed home. She needed to shed her Joy persona before meeting her friends.

The apartment was still empty, just as she'd expected. Riley had texted around 3 pm to say he would be working late again. She had scoffed as she read it. Working late… right. More likely he was with the teenage housekeeper again. Honey knew the girl was nineteen and legal, but it just felt wrong. Riley was 35 and married. If Brittany hadn't been a teenager, Honey may have felt a little better about it.

In their bedroom, Honey removed her wig first, sighing with relief as she placed it on its stand. Next came the glasses, then the frumpy clothes. She stood before her closet, considering what to wear. For so long, she'd defaulted to whatever Riley preferred when she was playing the part of his wife, modest, conservative outfits that wouldn't attract attention.

Tonight, she didn't care what Riley would think. He wasn't invited and she didn't want to wear what he would like.

She pulled out a little black dress she hadn't worn in years, one that hugged her curves and showed just enough leg and cleavage to be sexy without crossing into inappropriate. She paired it with strappy heels that added four inches to her height of five foot five. Another thing Riley didn't like because it made her closer to his height of five foot ten.

In the bathroom after taking a quick shower not getting her hair wet, she let her natural red hair cascade around her shoulders, brushing it until it gleamed. Her makeup highlighted her green eyes, defined her cheekbones, and added a touch of red to her lips that matched her hair.

The woman who looked back at her from the mirror was a stranger, at least she'd been a stranger for the past few years, Riley didn't like her wearing makeup. Honey smiled at her reflection. She didn't care what Riley liked anymore.

Before leaving, she took a few minutes to place the tiny cameras in strategic locations around the apartment, one in the living room with a view of the couch where she'd found the thong, one in the kitchen, another in the hallway with a view of the front door, and one pointing toward their bedroom, with another covering the spare bedroom. Before making sure all cameras linked to the app on her phone. All were motion-activated and would send alerts to her phone. The batteries should last a week.

Satisfied with her preparations, Honey grabbed her purse and headed out. On the way to the restaurant, she sent a quick text to Ben to let him know about cameras.

Honey: Set up camera surveillance tonight. Will keep you updated.

She hadn't told her friends about Riley yet. She wanted to wait until she had a drink in hand.

Nonna's was crowded when she arrived, the upscale Italian restaurant buzzing with Friday night energy. She spotted Lauren and Maggie at a corner table, both already nursing cocktails. She ordered a drink from the passing waiter, letting him know what table to bring it to.

Lauren saw her first. She stood up, waving enthusiastically.

"Holy shit, she emerges!" Lauren exclaimed as Honey approached. "The real Honey Johnson graces us with her presence!"

Maggie, more reserved but equally pleased, stood to embrace her. "You look stunning. What's the occasion?"

Honey slid into her seat. "I'm getting divorced."

Both women froze, martini glasses halfway to their lips.

"I'm sorry, what?" Lauren leaned forward, lowering her voice. "You're divorcing Riley?"

"Found another woman's underwear in my couch last night." Honey accepted the gin and tonic the waiter brought, taking a generous sip. "Found a hot pink thong in our living room. Extra small, definitely not mine." She was small but not that small.

"That motherfucker," Maggie hissed, her medical professionalism momentarily abandoned. "I knew something was off with him. God, men are dogs."

Lauren shook her head. "Are you okay? I mean, obviously you're not okay, but... how are you handling it anyway?"

"Surprisingly well," Honey admitted. "I think I have suspected for a while. Finding the evidence was almost... relieving. I've already hired a PI, had my blood tested just in case, and set up cameras in the apartment. He will not get a penny out of me."

"Wow… Cameras?" Lauren's eyes widened.

"I need evidence for the prenup. If he's caught cheating, he gets nothing." When her mother had died twelve years ago everything had been left to Honey. Her father had set everything up in a trust. Which she had access to on her 25th birthday two months ago. She didn't need the money, so she had just let the investors manage the lot. It included shares, gold and property. She knew it put her on the Forbes List - The richest people in the world. It was another reason for her Joy disguise.

Maggie raised her glass. "To taking out the trash. And making him pay for it by getting none of your money."

They clinked glasses, and for the first time today, Honey felt the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. She had a plan, she had support, and she had the beginnings of freedom from Riley. They placed their food orders with the waiter.

"So, the PI, the cameras... you're not confronting him?" Lauren asked.

"Not yet. I need undeniable proof first." Honey sipped her drink. "I'm sorry I haven't told you any of this but… he's been gaslighting me for years. Making me think I'm the problem. I'm paranoid, I'm too focused on working, not sexy enough, too cold in bed. If I confront him now, he'll just deny everything, and he is so charming when he wants to be he would have any judge believing him not me. I need photo or video evidence."

"Bastard," Maggie muttered. "I always thought you were too good for him."

"You both told me that before I married him," Honey acknowledged. "I should have listened. I'm sorry now I didn't."

"Hey, no self-recrimination," Lauren squeezed her hand. "We've all made relationship mistakes. The important thing is you're fixing it now." There was a shadow that fell over Lauren's face but before Honey could ask her about it, the waiter returned to take their dinner orders, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics… Lauren's latest audition, Maggie's new position at the hospital.

It felt good to laugh, to be herself, to let her guard down completely. As their entrées arrived, Honey realized how much she'd missed this.

"So," Lauren said, twirling pasta around her fork, "now that you're getting divorced, are you going to drop the whole Joy Smith act at work too?"

Honey nearly choked on her wine. "God, no. It was never there for any other reason than keeping an eye on the business I own 10% of and stepping away from being known as Gage Johnson's daughter. I loved numbers and I love being a CFO. Joy is not connected to Riley at all. Could you imagine Grayson finding out."

"The infamous Grayson Taylor," Maggie mused. "The way you talk about him at times, he sounds like a corporate supervillain."

"He's..." Honey paused, considering. After today's interaction, she wasn't sure how to characterize him anymore. "Well, it feels like it sometimes. He is brilliant but arrogant. Today he actually complimented my work, which was new."

"Maybe he's not as bad as you—" Lauren stopped mid-sentence, her eyes fixed on something over Honey's shoulder. "Holy shit."

"What?" Honey turned to follow her gaze.

"Don't look!" Lauren hissed, but it was too late.

Near the entrance, being led to a table by the maître d', was Grayson Taylor himself. And he wasn't alone. A tall, elegantly beautiful blonde woman walked beside him, laughing at something he'd said as she clung to his arm.

"That's Grayson Taylor?" Maggie whispered, impressed. "That man is sex on legs."

"And that's definitely not Morgan Fairchild with him," Lauren added. "Everyone knows he's engaged to her. She tells everyone she meets. He is a real catch for her." Both Lauren and Morgan were actresses. Lauren had never worked with Morgan but they both went to some of the same parties and auditions.

Honey stared, unable to look away. Grayson with a woman that wasn't his fiancé. Maybe it was innocent. Honey felt like snorting. She had zero trust left in men right now.

"I need another drink," Honey muttered, signaling the waiter again.

Chapter Seven

The waiter seemed to be taking his sweet time noticing Honey's signal, and her empty glass sat mockingly in front of her. Meanwhile, Grayson and his mystery blonde were being seated at a prime table near the window.

"That's it," Honey muttered, rising from her chair. "I'm going to the bar myself."

"Want me to come with you?" Lauren offered.

"No, stay put. I'll be right back."

Honey strode across the restaurant, conscious of her appearance in the black dress that hugged her curves. Without her Joy Smith persona, she moved differently, with more confidence, her natural grace no longer suppressed. At the bar, she leaned forward, catching the bartender's attention.

"One gin and tonic, and two martinis, please."

While waiting, she didn't look towards Grayson's table.

The bartender nodded at Honey's order, quickly mixing the drinks. As she waited, she felt a presence beside her, someone sliding onto the stool at her right. From her peripheral vision, she caught sight of a dark suit and the scent of expensive sandalwood cologne.

The bartender looked up.

"Scotch, neat," came a deep voice she recognized instantly. "And a sparkling water."

Honey kept her gaze fixed on the bartender's hands as he prepared her drinks, willing herself not to turn. Of all the bars in all the restaurants in New York, Grayson Taylor had to pick this one. She shifted slightly, angling her body away from him.

"I'll pay for the drinks now," she told the bartender, pulling out her credit card. No need to charge to their table.

The bartender nodded, but before he could take her card, Grayson's voice cut in.

"Add the lady's drinks to my tab."

Honey stiffened. He hadn't recognized her, had he? No, he couldn't have. Not with her real hair down, no glasses, and in this dress. Still, she wasn't about to accept drinks from him.

"That won't be necessary," she said, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal, still not looking his way.

"I insist," Grayson replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice… the charm he switched on when he wanted something. It was nothing like the clipped businesslike tones he used with Joy Smith at the office.

The bartender glanced between them, caught in the middle of their standoff.

She was not going to create a scene. "Your choice," she finally said, taking the card back and sliding it back into her purse. "Thank you."

As the bartender moved away to finish their drinks, Grayson turned toward her. She could feel his eyes on her profile.

"I don't usually get turned down when I offer to buy a beautiful woman a drink," he said.

Honey almost snorted. Beautiful woman? He wouldn't recognize beauty if it presented financial reports to him every month or glared at him over the boardroom table.

"Maybe you're not as irresistible as you think you are," she replied, finally turning to face him fully.

For a split second, his eyes widened in appreciation as he took her in—the red hair, the form-fitting dress, the confident posture. There was no hint of recognition in his gaze, just pure male interest.

He was hitting on her!

"I'm Grayson," he said, extending his hand.

"I know who you are."

Grayson looked her over again. "Have we met before? Because I’m sorry—"

Honey stared at Grayson, momentarily caught off-guard by his complete lack of recognition. It was almost comical how thoroughly her Joy Smith disguise worked. The man she argued with nearly every day couldn't connect this confident redhead with his frumpy CFO.

"No, we haven't met, but you are Grayson Taylor who is engaged to Morgan Fairchild?" she asked, her voice cool and steady. She glanced toward his table where the blonde waited. "You're here with another woman and you're chatting me up? That's just all class."

A flash of annoyance crossed his face. His jaw tightened slightly.

"Not like it's any of your business," he said, his voice hardening, "but my engagement with Morgan is over." He gestured toward the blonde at his table. "And that is my sister, Emma. I don't cheat."

He took his drinks and credit card from the bar, then stood, towering over her. For a brief moment, their eyes locked.

"Excuse me," he said stiffly, then turned and walked away, leaving her there with her mouth hanging open.

Honey watched him return to his table, stunned by the exchange. The blonde, his sister? Looked up at him with concern as he sat down. Now that Honey looked more carefully, she could see the family resemblance in their profiles. Their coloring was very different.

The bartender slid her drinks across the counter, breaking her trance. "Your drinks, ma'am."

"Thanks," she muttered, gathering them carefully. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she made her way back to her friends.

Lauren and Maggie leaned forward eagerly as she approached.

"What happened?" Lauren whispered, helping Honey distribute the drinks. "You two seemed to be having words."

Honey sank into her chair, still processing the encounter. "I just accused Grayson Taylor of cheating on his fiancée."

"You did what?" Maggie nearly choked on her fresh martini.

"He was flirting with me, Well, I think he was, and I thought... with everything that's happening with Riley..." Honey shook her head. "Turns out his engagement is over, and that's his sister at the table."

"Oh my god," Lauren covered her mouth. "Wait, he's not engaged anymore? When did that happen? The tabloids have been all over their relationship."

"I don't know," Honey admitted, stealing a glance at Grayson's table. He was now deep in conversation with his sister, his expression serious. "But he seemed pretty defensive about it."

"Well, at least now we know why he's not with Morgan tonight," Maggie said. "But he was hitting on you?"

"Maybe he wasn't… I could have read too much into it," Honey began, then stopped herself. That's exactly what he'd been doing. "God, what must he think of me?" Honey dropped her head in her hands, embarrassed.

"Who cares?" Lauren shrugged. "It's not like you'll ever see him again. Well, not as Honey, anyway."

Honey lifted her head and took a large swallow of her drink, feeling oddly unsettled. She'd been so quick to judge him, to assume the worst. After Riley's betrayal, she'd automatically projected those same traits onto Grayson.

"He said 'I don't cheat' like it was a point of honor for him," she mused. "I wonder what happened between him and Morgan."

"Maybe she cheated on him," Maggie suggested. "Would explain his reaction to your accusation."

"Enough about my boss," Honey said, pushing the encounter aside. "Let's talk about something else. Anything else."

Chapter Eight

Grayson sat down at the table, his mood darkened by the encounter at the bar. He handed Emma her drink as he sat down. The redhead had been stunning… those green eyes, that figure, she had oozed sex appeal. He'd been instantly drawn to her, something that hadn't happened in a long time. Mostly, women chased him, not the other way around.

"What happened?" Emma asked, taking a sip of her sparkling water. "You look like someone just insulted our mother."

"Nothing," he muttered, taking a sip of his scotch. The liquid burned pleasantly down his throat but did little to ease his irritation. "Just a misunderstanding."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "A misunderstanding that has you looking ready to throttle someone? Come on, Grayson. Talk to me."

He sighed, setting his glass down. "That woman at the bar accused me of cheating on Morgan. With you."

Emma nearly choked on her water. "With me? Your sister? That's disgusting!"

"She didn't know you were my sister," Grayson clarified, his jaw tightening. "She recognized me, knew I was engaged to Morgan, and jumped to conclusions."

"Was engaged," Emma corrected gently. "Past tense. The tabloids haven't caught up yet."

Grayson ran a hand through his hair. "I told her that. Also told her you were my sister."

"And how did she take it?"

"I didn't stick around to find out." He glanced toward the bar, but the redhead had already returned to her table with friends. From this angle, he could only see her profile, the elegant curve of her neck, the way her fiery hair caught the light.

Emma followed his gaze. "I have to say she is beautiful."

"And quick to judge."

"After what you went through with Morgan, I'm not surprised it bothered you." Emma reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "But it's just a stranger's misconception. You don't know her reasons for jumping to conclusions. Either way, why let it ruin our evening?"

Grayson nodded but couldn't shake his annoyance. The accusation had hit too close to home; the memory of finding Morgan with Tina still cut deep. Being accused of the very thing that had destroyed his engagement felt like salt in an open wound.

"There was something familiar about her," he mused, stealing another glance at the redhead's table. "Like I've met her before. But she said we haven't met."

"Maybe you have? You meet hundreds of people."

"I'd remember her."

Emma smirked. "Because she's gorgeous?"

"Because she had the nerve to call me out like that, she has a mouth on her." Grayson said, though he couldn't deny her beauty was part of it. "Most people are too intimidated."

"Except Joy Smith," Emma pointed out with a small smile. "Your CFO gives you hell regularly, according to your complaints."

Grayson snorted. "Smith is different. That's business." He took another sip of his scotch. "This was... I don't know. Personal."

The waiter arrived with their appetizers, temporarily distracting him from thoughts of the fiery redhead. As Emma chatted about her latest gallery showing, Grayson found his gaze repeatedly drawn to the woman's table. There was something about her laugh, the way she gestured when she spoke...

"You should go talk to her again, if you are that interested," Emma said suddenly.

Grayson snapped his attention back to his sister. "What?"

"The redhead. You keep looking at her. Go apologize or something."

"I have nothing to apologize for."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Fine. Go introduce yourself properly then. She obviously made an impression."

"I'm not looking to date anyone right now," Grayson said firmly. Now what he needed was a good, hard fuck with no strings. He had already reinstated his membership at the club.

"Who said anything about dating? Maybe you just need to get laid."

"Emma!" He glared at his younger sister.

"What?" She shrugged innocently. She didn’t bring up Morgan or Tina, that was a no-go area of conversation right now.

Grayson shifted uncomfortably. His sister wasn't wrong, but he wasn't about to admit it to her.

"I'm fine," he insisted.

"You're wound tighter than that watch you wear."

Grayson stiffened. "It's none of your business."

"I'm just worried about you," Emma admitted.

Grayson stared into his scotch. He'd given up his membership to The Velvet Room when things got serious with Morgan, thinking she was the one he could build a future with. Now, with that illusion shattered, there was nothing holding him back.

"Maybe you are right," he conceded.

Emma studied him for a moment. "Just promise me you won't let what Morgan did poison you against all women. Not everyone's like her," she said, stepping into topics he didn't want to talk about.

"I know that," he said, though part of him wasn't so sure anymore.

His gaze drifted once more to the redhead. Despite their brief, contentious interaction, there was something compelling about her, a spark that had been missing from his life lately. Even his life with Morgan.

Maybe it was time to start living again.

Honey took a deep breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment from her encounter with Grayson. "It's been awful, honestly," she said, explaining everything that had been going on before adding, "Riley and I haven't had sex in months, and when we did..." She lowered her voice, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "It was terrible. Like, spectacularly bad."

Maggie winced. "How bad are we talking here?"

"He's..." Honey said, twirling the straw in her drink. "It's all about him. Five minutes of missionary, then he's done and rolling over to sleep while I'm just... there. Unsatisfied. It's like he isn't into me at all." She took another sip of her drink, the alcohol loosening her tongue. "I haven't had an orgasm with him. Not once in three years of marriage."

"Not once?" Lauren's eyes widened. "How have you survived?"

Honey felt her cheeks flush. "I take care of myself. What else can I do? Some nights I'm so frustrated I can barely sleep until I... you know." She made a discreet gesture with her hand. "My vibrator gets more action than my husband ever did."

"Jesus," Maggie muttered. "And he had the nerve to cheat on you?"

"He told me I was frigid," Honey admitted, her voice catching slightly. "That it was my fault I couldn't climax with him. Told me he had never had a problem before. I actually believed him for a while."

"That manipulative bastard," Lauren hissed, her eyes darting around the restaurant before leaning in conspiratorially. "I know about a place you could go to."

"A place?" Honey raised an eyebrow. Was she talking about a sex shop?

Lauren nodded, lowering her voice even further. "It's called The Velvet Room. Very exclusive, very discreet. It's a members-only club where people go to... explore. Everyone wears masks, complete anonymity."

"You mean like a sex club?" Honey whispered, shocked.

"Not exactly," Lauren explained. "I mean, yes, there's sex, only if you want it, but it's more than that. It's about fantasy, desire... finding what you really want without judgment."

Maggie looked skeptical. "How do you even know about this place?"

"I dated a guy who was a member," Lauren shrugged. "He took me once. It was... let's say enlightening."

Honey's mind raced. A place where no one knew who she was, where she could be herself or anyone else, she wanted to be. Where she might finally discover if the problem really was her, as Riley had claimed, or if she was capable of pleasure with the right partner… not just her vibrator and her own fingers.

"I don't know..." she began, though something inside her hummed with curiosity.

"Just think about it," Lauren said, pulling out her phone. "I still have the contact information. They screen everyone extensively. Security is tight. No one would ever know you were there."

Honey looked across the restaurant where Grayson sat with his sister, his profile strong and confident. Then she thought of Riley, probably with his teenage mistress right now, both of them believing Honey was too naive to suspect anything.

"Send me the information," she said suddenly. "No promises, but... I'll think about it."

Lauren smiled, typing something into her phone. "Already done. And Honey? Whatever you decide, just remember… you deserve pleasure. Real pleasure. Not whatever sad excuse for intimacy Riley's been giving you. You don't owe him anything."

"To finding real pleasure," Maggie raised her glass in a toast.

Honey clinked her glass against her friends', a flutter of both fear and excitement stirring in her chest. "To finding real pleasure."

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?"

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."