Thoroughly Whipped

I wore a floor-length black lace halter dress with a plunging neckline. A slit was cut up to my right thigh, and my hair hung down to the middle of my back in loose waves. My mask was the same black lace as my dress and fashioned in the shape of a cat’s face.

As I reached the bottom step, Harry held out his hand and I slipped mine into it. “Faith,” he said, awe thickening his voice. Stepping to the ballroom floor, he kissed the back of my hand.

“Maître Harry.” I lowered my head slightly, like a good siren. Harry growled playfully and pulled me to his chest.

“I like the sound of that way too bloody much.”

My temperature spiked at his husky voice. “So do I.”

Harry studied my mask and said, in that perfect French accent, “Mon petit chaton.” He playfully tapped the small pointed ears.

That name purring from his lips instantly made me clench my thighs together. “Meow,” I said, winking, and Harry threw his head back, laughing.

“Menace,” Harry said and held my hand. Shocked, I looked down at our clasped hands and the people dancing and conversing around us. He was holding my hand. In public. Where anyone could see. It wasn’t just his employees here tonight; there were people from English society too. Many, many people. But as Harry walked with me through the crowd, curious glances firing our way, I realized he didn’t care.

Neither did I.

Harry handed me a glass of champagne. “I have never seen you look as beautiful as you do now, Faith.”

“Because half my face is covered?” I teased.

Harry took the champagne from my hands, ignoring my quip. “Dance with me.”

Sheer horror filled my bones. “Erm…” I looked at the waltzing couples and Harry’s expectant stare. “Not sure I can dance like that. In case you forgot, I am clumsy. Like the clumsiest klutz that there ever, ever was.”

Clearly not taking no for an answer, Harry pulled me to the dance floor. I passed Sally, Michael, and Sarah, who all stood gaping at Harry’s hand in mine. As we hit the dance floor, the music changed. I recognized it instantly. It was slower than what had been playing, and Harry pulled me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me.

Under the crescent moon and stars, he guided me around the dance floor, Ed Sheeran and Andrea Bocelli’s song about being perfect accompanying our every move.

“Andrea Bocelli,” I whispered into Harry’s ear. “It will forever remind me of you.” Harry as “Maître” had played Andrea Bocelli every night I’d been with him. Harry had played his music in his apartment. How had I ever not known?

“I never thought I’d have this,” Harry said. I became trapped in his blue gaze, and the onlookers fell away. “I never thought you would be with me this way.”

Cupping my hands on the back of his head, I lowered it and brought his lips to mine. Harry shifted his mask to the side, showing his face so he could kiss me longer, deeper, slower. He tasted of mint and champagne, and I melted against him. We were here. No secrets. Hearts bared and no obstacles in our way. My heart thudded hard in my chest, and the music, which was so perfect for us, swept us away.

Harry’s arms were tight around my waist, and I felt it. He hadn’t said the words yet. But with every kiss, with every caress of his tongue, and with every flex of his hands on my back, he told me he loved me. I tried to show him I loved him too with my hands in his hair as I smiled against his mouth. As the song ended and our lips broke apart, I met Harry’s eyes and couldn’t look away. The music moved on to another song, but I just stood there holding him, and he held me too.

“I’m so happy you came here,” Harry whispered. Then he smiled a breathtakingly crooked smile. “And I am so very happy that damn elevator broke down.” I laughed, and Harry took my hand. “Let’s get a drink.” As we were moving through the crowd, someone took hold of my free hand.

When I saw a blond man in a black traditional mask, I recognized him immediately. “May I cut in?” Nicholas asked.

“One dance, then she’s mine again,” Harry said sternly, causing me to moan out loud at the level of dominance in his voice. I tried to smother it with a cough, but when Nicholas covered his mouth to hide his amusement, I knew it had been in vain.

As we hit the dance floor, a faster, more upbeat song played, and Nicholas spun me around the dance floor like a ballerina in a jewelry box. “How’s Sage?” he asked, not at all subtle about his feelings for my friend.