Thoroughly Whipped

by Tillie Cole

  As I exited the elevator onto the management floor, I looked at Harry’s door and wondered if he was okay. He hadn’t talked to me yesterday besides the note. But I knew he probably didn’t want me going into his office. I didn’t know where we stood, and although I believed he liked me as much as I liked him, I knew that wasn’t always enough.

  I smiled at Carla and she said, “Go straight in, Faith.”

  I knocked on Sally’s door. “Leave me alone!” she shouted, and I let myself in. Sally was in her usual position, sitting on her chair, her feet up on her desk, reading something in her hands.

  I took my seat, and I tried to prepare myself for whatever the outcome was. Sally peered at me over the top of her glasses and smiled. I shuddered. In all my time at Visage I had never seen her smile. It resembled a viper about to attack an innocent mouse. “I liked it,” she said. I exhaled a pent-up breath.

  “Oh thank Christ!” I slumped back in my chair like I’d just run the New York marathon dressed as a giant banana.

  Sally opened her drawer and placed a copy of my feature before her on the desk. “So, French, rich, fucks like a dog in heat. I have my suspicions of who it might be. I’ve narrowed it down to about three people. Can I give you my guesses and wait for your reaction?” I shook my head. Sally leaned in closer, practically salivating for gossip. “Come on, Faith. Who is it? Just between us girls.”

  “Sorry. I can’t say,” I said and locked my mouth with an invisible lock. “NDA rules.”

  She slapped the desk. “Dammit! But I’m on to them.”

  “I can’t believe you like it.”

  “It’s got it all, Faith. Sex, fun, intrigue, hotness. It was exactly what I was looking for.”

  “So…I have the big feature?” I dared ask, wondering how she could ever refuse.

  Sally smiled again. “No. Sorry.”

  It took me a few seconds for that response to sink in. “W-what,” I stuttered. “Why?” I felt my hope break apart along with my heart.

  “This is not on me, sweetheart,” she said and put her legs back on the desk, halfway done with me. “This came from the big guns.”

  I laughed without humor. “King,” I said, his name tasting sour on my tongue. “King Sinclair stopped this, didn’t he?”

  Sally pulled down her glasses to perch on her nose. “Not King, Faith. Harry. He was the one who kyboshed your feature.”

  “What?” I said, blood draining from my face. She was wrong. She must be wrong.

  “Read it this morning, first thing. Threw that fucker out along with last night’s trash.” Sally went back to reading whatever she’d had in her hands. “We’re done, Faith.” I stood on shaky legs. “For what it’s worth,” Sally called over her shoulder. “It deserved the spot.”

  “Thank you,” I said, unable to be excited even about rare praise from Sally. I shut her door and immediately saw Harry’s office. I didn’t overthink it; instead I marched in that direction like a pissed-off steam train.

  “Faith?” Theo said as I stormed by. “Do you have an appointment?” Poor Theo didn’t even get a reply from me. I was about to become a one-woman wrecking machine.

  I pushed the door open, slammed it behind me, and rounded the corner to see Harry perched over his desk, head in his hands. “How could you?” I said, my voice not as loud and strong as I had hoped it would be.

  Harry snapped his head up. His navy-blue tie was discarded on his desk, and his shirt collar was open. I barely registered that he looked stressed, hair in disarray, I was too fueled by betrayal and on a one-way ticket to kick-ass central. Harry got to his feet, his tall frame towering over me on the other side of his desk.

  “It was before you,” I said, but deep down I had known all this time that my time at NOX was going to ruin us. “It was before you and I even kissed. Hell, it was before I could even stand to talk to you!” I paced in front of him. “You knew how much I wanted that feature, and you cut it? To what? Protect your friends? I played the NDA game, Harry. There are no names involved. It was vague enough to protect those in charge. It was a motherfucking masterpiece and you, of all people, are the one to destroy it? You, Harry. Why?”

  He said nothing, so I continued. “I knew I should have told you, at least about being a member of NOX, but things were going so well, and I didn’t want to tell you about Maître. I didn’t want you to know about my sleeping with him.” Harry was a marble statue, just staring at me. It infuriated me. “Is that why you’re pulling it? Because you’re jealous? Because it makes zero sense to me otherwise! Tell me, WHY?”

  Harry laughed without mirth. His shook his head and took a step back so he stood in front of a picture of, I assumed, him and his mother at some pleasant-looking country estate with rolling hills in the background.

  “Why?” he said, his voice hoarse. He looked rough, like he’d had no sleep for several days. Harry’s head hit the wall beside the photo. His eyes filled with sadness. “I didn’t know it was for a feature, Faith. I thought you were there because you wanted to be.”

  “What?” I said, so damn confused I was starting to believe I was in a parallel universe. One where everyone talked in riddles.

  “I tried to give you hints. I…” Harry ran his hands over his face. He was gray in pallor, and he had stubble on his normally clean-shaven cheeks. “I couldn’t tell you. I thought I could fuck you out of my system as him, then walk away and get you out of my head after all these years. Finally.” I started breathing faster. “But then the elevator happened. And you talked to me. Like a human being and not something you despised.”

  “Harry—?”

  “I tried to tell you, I promise I did. In the beginning…” He paused, and I saw him smile a little. “Of us. When I dared hope we could go somewhere. But I never found the words. And the more time went on, the deeper we fell, I fell, I couldn’t stand the thought of you hating me.”

  “Harry! What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I tried to send you hints.” He walked around the desk. “Vie,” he said, naming his mother’s charity, with perfect French pronunciation.

  “Your mom’s name? The one the charity is named after?”

  “Faith, her name was Aline.”

  “Then…?”

  “La vie means life in French.” I opened my mouth to ask more questions. I was lost in the swirling fog of questions in my head. “The book,” he said, coming even closer to me. Until he was right there, an inch away, his expression haunted and his voice raspy. “I prayed you would find out, but then at the same time I wished that you wouldn’t.” I inhaled his scent trying to let it calm me. But this time, it didn’t work. “I told you I was trapped. Told you I was in a prison…” One by one the hairs on the back of my neck started to stand on end. A thought, so crazy it couldn’t be true, entered my head with the force of a tsunami.

  I needed to think. I needed to fucking think! I moved away from Harry and to the picture frames hanging on his wall. My pulse was racing so fast I felt dizzy. He didn’t want my article published, my article on NOX, but mostly on Maître. I had been requested the first night at NOX to meet Maître. I had assumed it was because of my obvious cold feet in the main room and because of my accident with the sex swings.

  I swallowed, trying to wet my dry throat. Then there was Lady Chatterley’s Lover in Harry’s library. And Faith? I need to tell you something. Something about who I am. Harry’s words from Saturday night circled in my head. I lifted my eyes, unable to process the evidence that was repeatedly slapping me in the face, when the photo he had leaned against came into view. I froze, felt my veins ice over. Harry’s mother. I read the caption on the frame of the photograph. Aline Auguste-Sinclair and her son, Harry. St Tropez, France.

  Auguste.

  I closed my eyes. “Harry?”

  “Yes?” he said, quietly.

  “Where was your mother from?” When he took too long to answer, I said, “Was it France? Was your mother from France?”

  “Oui.” Hi
s silky French accent sailed over me like the finest of Hermes scarves. That voice…that voice who was him…I thought of all the nights I’d shared with Maître. The stern master who, in time, had slowly softened. The man who had brought me such pleasure I was truly a slave to his desires.

  I turned my head and finally opened my eyes. They collided with Harry’s. “Maître. You’re Maître Auguste.” It wasn’t a question. I knew the answer without his confirmation. Harry nodded and I felt tears rise in my eyes. “You lied to me,” I said, my voice catching with my hurt. “All this time, you were lying to me.”

  “Faith, please. Just listen to me—”

  “And the feature?” I laughed. It was that or I would give in to my hurt and cry. I wouldn’t fucking cry. I mustn’t. “You dropped the feature because it exposed your club, didn’t you?” Harry stepped forward. “Do not dare come any closer, Harry. Don’t you dare!”

  Harry stopped on the spot and raked his fingers through his hair. “I was careless with you, Faith. I was falling for you as both Maître and Harry, and I was in too deep. I told you things I shouldn’t have. I did things with you that weren’t the norm at the club.” I could see him struggling to explain it all. I didn’t care. I needed him to. I needed him to explain every little thing that had led us to this shitshow.

  “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.

  I hailed a cab, lucky that I kept fifty dollars in my bra for emergencies. “Where to?” he asked.

  “Hell’s Kitchen,” I said and closed my eyes and let the tears fall. My skin shivered. It was hot and humid outside, but I couldn’t get warm. What would happen from here? How would I ever come back from this? This whole time, we had built a fantasy around us. Lived in our safe bubble. That bubble had well and truly burst. It had always been destined to burst. We were two very different people from two very different worlds.

  And Harry was right; I had no idea what it was like to live in his world. To one day inherit a title and rub shoulders with royalty, the peerage, and people who would judge both him and me simply for falling in love. King had told me so at the races. And I’d known. Deep down I’d known it was true.

  Inevitable.

  Harry and I were impossible.

  I glanced out the window, seeing familiar streets come into view. My hands slammed against the window as we passed Papa’s shop. “No,” I whispered, my heart breaking for the second time that day, seeing a small sign reading “Out of Business” on the door. When the cab pulled up to my parents’ apartment, I felt what was left of my heart crack. My stomach dropped, and I felt all hope turn to vapor and be carried away on the breeze.

  I handed the cab driver my cash and stepped out onto the street that I had grown up on. I looked at the apartment that held all my childhood and fondest memories. The wooden doors that had welcomed me home day after day. And on the wall of the small apartment that I adored so much was a “For Sale” sign.

  After climbing the stone steps, feeling like they were a veritable Mount Everest, I opened the door and let myself into my parents’ home. Mom and Papa were sitting on the couch in silence, holding each other’s hands. Mom jumped to her feet. I didn’t speak a word, just let the tears fall and fell into her arms.

  “We have to, Faith,” she said. “We need to pay off the debts. There’s no more time. We must do what’s right.”

  I looked up through my blurred vision and held my hand out for Papa. His eyes glistened as he wrapped his arms around us. “You love the shop,” I said brokenly.

  “It is a shop, mia bambina. You and your mama are my heart. That is all I care about.” I knew that wasn’t true, but he would never show me his pain, even though I knew he was racked with it. And with that, I fell apart. As Mom and
Papa held me, I broke down on their shoulders.

  “Shh, baby,” Mom said, stroking my hair. “Are you okay?” I shook my head. She pulled my head away from her shoulder to search my face. Her eyes softened when she asked, “Harry?” I nodded, and she wrapped me back into her embrace. “It’s okay, Faith. Whatever it is, it will work out. I promise.” Mom kissed me on my head and said, “Soup? Let’s have some soup. Everything is better after soup.”

  So we ate tomato soup. Afterwards, I climbed into my childhood bed, thought of Harry, and let my heart break some more.

  “What’s this meeting for?” I asked Novah as we were ushered to the conference room three days later. I walked like a zombie, with Novah holding my hand for support. My friends knew Harry and I had fought, he had left, and he hadn’t come back. No phone calls. No texts. Nothing at all. They didn’t know he was Maître, though. Despite everything, I didn’t want to hurt him like that. And telling even one person his secret could be his downfall.

  When everyone was gathered, Sally came into the room and said, “Three days ago, King Sinclair had a heart attack.” Shock took hold of me, and every muscle in my body tensed. Harry. My god, Harry…the phone call.

  Novah squeezed my hand as Sally continued. “It was a close call, but he received emergency surgery and is now in stable condition.” I exhaled, thanking God that Harry hadn’t lost his father too. “King is expected to make a full recovery. Harry flew out to be by his side as soon as he heard.”

  I closed my eyes. Harry…

  I recalled his face when he got the call…I should have realized something was wrong. That it was really bad. But I was too wrapped up in my pain, in my hurt. In that moment, I hated myself.

  “But the good news,” Sally said, looking at me, Michael, and Sarah. “The midsummer celebration is still happening.” The four of us were scheduled to go to England next week to represent Visage at HCS Media’s birthday masquerade ball. The other invitees smiled at Sally in excitement, and with that, the meeting was over.