Thoroughly Whipped

“But I didn’t think of Pierre. That night, at the charity gala, I had no idea you would sway your suspicions to him instead of me. When I read your article, although it wasn’t completely obvious, it leaned to the likes of him and potential others. There’s a small pool of French businessmen of our age in Manhattan. I couldn’t let you ruin them like that.”

“Or ruin your club,” I snapped.

“That too.” I felt like I’d been punched. Harry held out his hands in surrender. “Faith, it is my business. But more than that, it is people’s lives. People I know and care for, others I don’t know at all. But they shouldn’t have their private activities sprawled over the weekend paper for all to read, developing suspicions about who might be there. It is not only my job to keep them protected, but also my moral obligation.”

“Obligation,” I echoed. “That’s the truth of all of this, Harry. Let’s not beat around the bush.” Walking closer to him, close enough so I could read his expression, I asked, “Does your father know about this side business of yours?” Harry’s jaw clenched. I lifted my hands and dropped them back to my sides in frustration. “He doesn’t, does he? That’s why the feature has been canned, isn’t it? Because your father doesn’t know about NOX, and you’re terrified of him finding out and sullying the great Sinclair name!”

“Faith,” Harry said, his voice harder now. I could see in his narrowed eyes he was getting angry. Good. Best he caught up with me so we could really thrash this out. “You know nothing of my life, the title I will inherit. You know nothing of the circles I was born into, still have to live in. And more than that, what it could do to HCS Media, my family’s reputation.”

“So you destroy my dreams instead? Destroy my work to save yours.” Harry’s face crumpled. Instinctively I wanted to run to him, to hold him and comfort the little boy lost I now knew he was deep inside. The one who craved family and love more than anything in the world. But he’d lied to me. He was Maître. My Harry was Maître.

“You lied,” I said again. “Out of everything, that’s what hurts the most.”

“You did too.” Fire lit within me as he said those words. “You didn’t tell me about NOX. You didn’t tell me about the feature. You lied to me too, Faith. It wasn’t just me. Don’t just lay all the blame at my feet. I will gladly take the lion’s share, but you are not innocent here.”

“Then this has all been for nothing,” I said, voice raspy. “You lied, I lied and, ironically, we both got completely fucked in the end!”

I set off to move past him, and Harry got in my path, palms showing. “Please, Faith. I need to explain. I need more of your time to explain it all. Why I have NOX, why I hide in plain sight as Maître. Please just let me—” Harry’s desk phone rang, cutting him off. He ignored it until it stopped. “Faith, just give me that. Give me a chance to explain. I know I’ve fucked up, but please let me try—”

His desk phone rang again. Harry gritted his teeth, pissed off, but moved to his desk, lifted the phone, and spat, “What?” I didn’t hear what was said on the other side, but he tensed, grew motionless. “I’m on my way.”

Harry slammed the phone down and grabbed his jacket. He hovered awkwardly beside me. “I have to go,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Faith, but I have to go.” He hesitated, but then he pressed a swift kiss to my cheek. It was soft and gentle and felt filled with goodbye. Harry raced out the door and left me standing in his office, angry and confused. The tears did fall this time. They ran down my cheeks like rivers chasing the sea.

Harry was Maître.

He had stopped my feature.

And he had left—with no explanation.

I wrapped my arms around my chest when I suddenly felt cold. Forcing my feet to move, I walked out of Harry’s office.

“Faith? Are you okay?” Theo asked.

I nodded numbly and, this time, forewent the elevator and took the ten flights of stairs down to the exit. I didn’t care about my purse or any of my belongings. I just needed to leave this building. With every step I took, I replayed Harry’s words: You lied to me too, Faith. It wasn’t just me. And he was right. I had. I had been so scared to tell him about NOX and the feature. He had lied about Maître and claimed he was too afraid to tell me. I wanted to call him and ask him why he’d fled. But I was so pissed at him.