Thoroughly Whipped

“You did a stellar job,” I joked. Harry chuckled. “I would never have guessed this man lived underneath the façade.” Harry nodded.

After a deep breath, he said, “That night, at the nightclub, when we bumped into each other.”

“The night I got invited to NOX?”

“That wasn’t me,” he said. “As much as you were under my skin, I would never have tempted myself that way. By having you in my club.”

“Then who—”

“Christoph. He’s a scout for NOX, for the sirens.” Harry held up his hands. “I was there with Nicholas. He had flown in for a visit, and we were meeting some of his friends. I had no idea Christoph had scouted you, I swear. It wasn’t until I was in my office on the top floor that first night that I knew.”

“How?”

“I saw you on the camera coming in through the main entrance.” Harry coughed. “I couldn’t believe my eyes. The woman who got to me like no other was entering my club. Coming to be a siren.” Harry blushed, and his eyes filled with apology. “I couldn’t do it, Faith. I couldn’t see you with other men.” I felt out of breath at his confession. “I sat at my desk trying to think of ways to get you evicted. But then I watched you navigate your way through the main room. I saw that you were nervous. The loud and vibrant Faith I knew was intimated and, I thought, a little scared.” He shook his head. “It killed me to see you that way.”

“I was overwhelmed,” I whispered. “I thought I could do it, then saw everyone and froze.”

He smiled and laughed. “Then, in typical Faith fashion, you took out the sex swing room in one fell swoop.” I laughed too, just remembering that calamity. “I saw Gavin bring you to the back room, and saw your defeated posture.” His shoulders sagged. “I wanted to comfort you. I wanted to tell you that you needn’t be embarrassed. I needed to know you were okay.”

“That’s why you called me up to your room?” Familiar butterflies were back in my stomach.

Harry nodded. “I warred with myself over what I wanted to do, what I ultimately did do. I wanted to assure you that you didn’t need to embarrassed, and I planned to send you on your way. But when you saw me, that nervousness you’d displayed downstairs faded away. You seemed interested in me, relaxed in my presence…and curious.” Harry ran his hand down his face. “Curious about me and what I could do. All rational thought left my head after that. I convinced myself that, as Maître, I could get you out of my system then get on with my life. But it only made me like you more.” The last sentence was said so softly it made my eyes glisten.

“Then the unbelievable happened. I talked to you. Me. As Harry. In the elevator. And it wasn’t completely strained. You didn’t seem filled with hate toward me.” Harry took a long swallow of his whiskey, like he was working up to something. “But more than that, I liked the person I became around you. You tunneled through the protective shield of arrogance and rudeness I’d adopted around you. And as we continued to be thrown together, I started to remember. I started to remember the Harry I had been before my mother died and my father stopped caring about life. I remembered that I could laugh and crack jokes and not be dour and miserable, just existing, each day like the next.”

Harry shuffled closer to me. My heart beat so fast with the proximity. “Each time we were together as Harry and Faith, I gained a piece of the old Harry back. You, Faith. You brought me back. With your innuendos and inappropriate jokes.”

“Harry…” I whispered. “But Maître…”

“I never believed, in a million years, someone like you would like me. As Maître I got to have the intimate side of you. But then, impossibly, things began shifting. I felt them changing between us as Harry and Faith.”

“I remember.”

“And the deeper we got, the more I knew that if I told you I was Maître I would lose you. That I would break any semblance of trust we shared, and I would lose you.” Harry looked so sorry and forlorn. “As bad as that sounds, I couldn’t bear to lose you. You changed me, Faith.” He frowned at that. “No, not changed me. You brought me back to life. You, the feisty brunette from Hell’s Kitchen who writes a sex advice column, brought me back to life.”

“Harry,” I said and, finally, after all this time, I pressed my lips to his. He kissed me back. It was soft, it was beautiful, and it was filled with an abundance of gratitude.

When he pulled back, he said, “You must know that everything I said to you as Harry was the truth. I omitted that I was Maître, but everything else was real, Faith. So bloody real.”