Thoroughly Whipped

“Okay.”

Harry kissed me thoroughly. When he pulled back, he said, “As for my house back in England, you will see it soon.”

I frowned. “What?”

“It’s HCS Media’s hundredth birthday. My father asked each publication’s boss to nominate a few people from their staff to be flown to our estate for a midsummer’s party to celebrate the milestone birthday. I saw and approved Sally’s list last week. She’s chosen you as one of the staff members to represent Visage.”

“What?” I asked again. Harry pulled me closer to the edge of the counter. I moaned when his hardness pressed between my legs.

“Let me show you around when you come.”

“Where will we be staying?”

“On the property. Everything is paid for. My father wanted it to be a real celebration.” Harry kissed my neck, my cheek, and then my mouth, and I became lost in his touch. “But I want you in my room, in my bed. With me.”

“Yes,” I said and closed my eyes.

The pasta was eaten later that night. Much later. I stayed with Harry that night, and the following few nights. No one knew outside of us two. And every time I kissed him, I felt myself falling deeper and deeper. And when he lay asleep, my head on his chest and his arm and scent wrapped around me, I knew the truth of what my heart beat. I never spoke those words aloud. But as I closed my eyes and Harry pulled me to his chest, his lips seeking out mine even in slumber, I couldn’t deny my feelings anymore.

I, Faith Maria Parisi, had fallen for Harry Sinclair.

And I had fallen for him hard.

Chapter Fifteen

“Sexy mama!” Sage sang as I strutted out of my bedroom like Gigi Hadid on the Paris runway.

“You look like a sexy glitterball,” Novah said.

“You all look amazing too. Sage, very suave. Amelia, blue is definitely your color, and Novah, Jessica Rabbit eat your heart out!”

“Drinks!” Novah shouted and poured us each a shot. Tonight was the Manhattan Media Charity Ball. Sage and Amelia were Novah’s and my plus ones. We were suited and booted and getting aboard the tipsy train.

“You got your vodka bra on, Faith?” Sage asked. With some crafty stitching passed down from Papa, my vodka bra was pumped and back in action.

“No need, my friend, it’s a free bar.” I waggled my eyebrows. “My natural C-cups can breathe freely tonight.”

“Ah, free bar,” Sage said. “The sweetest words that were ever spoken.”

“So,” Novah asked when we poured another shot down our throats. “Harry will be there.”

“Yes. And?” I said innocently.

“Oh, cut the shit, Faith,” Sage said and pressed his hand over his heart. “It’s like Cinderella, Brooklyn edition.”

“Faith, you’ve spent every night at his place this week. He drops you off at seven a.m. every morning and, truthfully, Sage and I have been watching you two French kiss your goodbyes from the window,” Amelia said.

“Perverts,” I said, narrowing my eyes on them both.

“You don’t tell us anything anymore,” Novah said. “We have to find out by our own devices.”

“Because I’m not sure what is happening!” I said, blowing out some pent-up frustration. “Yes, I stay at his. We fuck like nymphomaniacs on Viagra. But we haven’t talked about life outside his apartment. It’s new, and I have no idea where it’s going. We’re just taking it day by day.”

“You’re meant to be with Maître again tomorrow night,” Sage said. He threw his arm around my shoulders. “What are you gonna do, baby girl?”

“Go,” I said and saw shock on my friends’ faces. I sighed. “And tell him I’ve met someone and I can’t do the sexual torture with him anymore.”

“Oh. My. Fucking. Christ.” Novah stood right in front of me. “You like Harry. Like, like him like him.” I didn’t deny it. What was the point? It was true, and these were my best friends. I told them everything.

“Oh, Faith.” Amelia hugged me so hard I felt a lump build in my throat. “I’m happy for you. You deserve love. It’s all I have ever wanted for you.” I kissed her on the cheek when she released me.

“I’m freaking the fuck out,” I said, hand on my head, a low-grade freak-out setting in. “He’s Henry Sinclair III, a motherfucking viscount of Britain. I’m me, a chick from Hell’s Kitchen with a mouth like a sewer. I hate to say this, because you know I, in general, say fuck the man, and anyone who disapproves of any decision I make can eat shit and die. But there are so many things I don’t even know about Harry. His entire life back in England, for one. His father, who I’ve never even spoken to. All the pressures he’s under with his businesses.” I felt like I was about to hyperventilate. “He’s a billionaire. A fucking billionaire. I can’t even imagine that amount of money in my head, never mind dating someone who has that much in the bank.”