But hey, the good news was that his parents were generous enough to let me sleep in their basement, while he moved in with her. I’d been trying hard to get myself back to New York when I got the interview with Carly Wolf.
What an idiot, Dorian had said, biting his lower lip.What an absolute fool.
His gaze had made me feel warm everywhere. I was floating outside of my own body. After my breakup, I swore off men for the longest time. I focused on my career. I was working fortheCarly Wolf! In some fucked-up way, my asshole ex-boyfriend had led me to the greatest professional opportunity. I threw myself into it. Carly constantly said how impressed she was with my ideas, my taste, my organizational skills. I refused to go anywhere near dating apps. I was happy being single.
Until that night in New York with Dorian Fisher. We finished our drinks and, when he didn’t suggest having another one, I felt crushed beyond reason. I’d caught the attention of one of the most famous men on earth, but I hadn’t been able to sustain it. What had I done wrong? How could I change that?
The obsession had begun.
This time, here in Cannes, I held his gaze and forced myself not to fill the silence.
Dorian leaned back, swishing the pale yellow liquid inside his glass. “What brought you to Cannes?”
I allowed myself a casual shrug. “Work. You?”
I felt brazen, drunk on a mirage of my own making.
He laughed. Because it was him, it was a mysterious half laugh that made the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“That too.” He paused, took a sip. “Does Carly know?”
He had this way of asking questions that opened the door to ten more. I placed my glass back down, suddenly aware that I’d drunk too fast. I smoothed the top of my skirt, crossed and uncrossed my legs. Dorian watched my every move.
“That I’m here? I don’t think so.”
A wave of something like nausea hit me, the sick urge to move awayfrom this conversation.
“You have a contract with Tom Ford,” I said now.
Everybody knew that Dorian Fisher had recently signed on to be the new Tom Ford ambassador. It included commercials for the latest fragrance—Dorian’s chiseled chin on billboards all over the world, car crashes in the making—and of course, he was to exclusively wear the label.
“Carly was a little disappointed. You know she likes to experiment.”
“Tom Ford is a perfect match for you.”
He pursed his lips. Could Dorian Fisher ever be unsure of anything?
“It’s best-dressed list material almost guaranteed every time,” I added.
We were in my territory now, a topic I could chew on until the end of days.
Dorian finished his drink, then placed it back on the table. It clinked a little too loudly. He looked around him, like he was about to get up. My heart squeezed in my chest.
But his gaze focused back on me as he tilted his head.
“If you know anyone who’s interested.”
His eyes ran all over me; I felt myself shiver.
“Interested?” The word scratched against the insides of my throat.
“A change could be good for me. If I found the right person. Someone with great talent and a vision.”
“You’re not serious.”
He looked quite serious.
“You’re looking for a new stylist?” I added.
