I cringed inwardly at the last part, because anyone who insists they’re doing great is obviously a horrible liar.
“Well, we won’t keep you then,” Carly said.
Dorian smiled at Carly like he agreed.
“Have you told her yet?” I said to Dorian, trying to sound casual, even though my legs were shaking. “Does she know you’re looking for a new stylist?”
Carly scoffed. “Oh Constance! Sometimes I wonder what I could have done to stop you. You worked for me for three years, and I never sawhow…obsessive you were. Some people just can’t be around celebrities, or around very handsome men for that matter. I feel terrible for how I let you treat my client. You don’t understand what someone like him goes through in life. Surrounded by young women desperate for his attention, scammers trying to steal his wealth, all of them dying for a piece of his money or his fame. I don’t know how you got onto this yacht, but based on your history, I don’twantto know.”
While she spoke, Dorian took a sip of his drink and looked all around him, like he wasn’t part of this. Like we weren’t talking abouthim.
Like he wasn’t at the center of everything I was and everything I’d done.
“Tell her,” I said to him. “Tell her we’re sleeping together.”
Dorian’s laugh was subtle, quiet, but the contempt in his eyes spoke louder than words.
“I’m truly sorry you still have to put up with this,” Carly said to him. Then, to me, “You’re an embarrassment. This relentless sexual harassment is beyond despicable. If you were a man and you’d sent dozens of naked photos and videos of yourself to a woman, it would be a clear-cut case. We found you in his hotel suite, for god’s sake. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“He wanted me there!” I screamed.
Though it hadn’t been so simple. Dorian had asked for the photos and the videos, but only ever in person. There was no digital trace. At the time, I thought I understood why. It was part of the fun, the thrill. But also, he was Dorian Fisher. He had to worry about people screenshotting anything he sent. I would have explained anything he did, back then. Like I was doing now. And when I snuck into his hotel suite, when I took my clothes off and waited for him like that, I genuinely thought that was what he wanted. That our months of flirting, the oppressive sexual tension between us, was leading to that moment.
“You have a problem, Constance,” Carly said. “Dorian is not interested in you. He hasneverbeen interested in you. And maybe he’s too nice to say it to your face now, but at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if he took legal action against you.”
“You’re lying! Or maybe you’re just jealous of what Dorian and I have.”
Carly and Dorian looked around to make sure no one was listening, but the music was loud enough. The shock on her face made me wonder though. Maybe I’d struck a nerve. Maybe she didn’t see Dorian Fisher only as a client. Maybe she’d wanted him all along, too.
“Take a breath,” Dorian said, like there was nothing else to address.
But I was done feeling like I was in the seventh circle of hell. I was done trying to pull myself back up when the weight of what had happened was still pushing me down.
“I took those videos because he asked me to. Hewantedme to. Tell her! Tell her you’re having sex with me!”
Just as my outburst reached its conclusion, the puzzle pieces started falling into place, every little detail coming into sharp focus.
I’ve already talked about that first night in New York, when Dorian and I had a drink. Things had escalated from there. Whenever I saw him—every few weeks—there was always a moment when we would find ourselves alone. He’d invite me up to his suite, where we would drink and talk. He never kissed me. He never touched me. I wanted him to, so badly, but I would never have made the first move.
Dorian started opening up to me about the kinds of challenges he didn’t share in interviews. He was getting older. The face that everyone on the planet adored so much was now lined with the passing of time. Despite what the world said, he’d never been convinced he was such a great actor. His last two movies had flopped. He was riddled with doubt, still now, decades into his smashing career.
My heart was galloping. Dorian Fisher was sharing his most intimate secrets with me. It was incredible. I told him what anyone would have said to him: He was amazing, one of the sexiest men alive. Every girl’s fantasy. As talented an actor as he’d been twenty-five years ago. I’d seen all his movies. I knew what I was talking about.
Dorian had chuckled, too humble.
Where have you been all my life, Dorian had said, looking over his glass.I need you. I need you so much. I need to feel you. To see you, all the time.
My mind left my body. It took me a moment to understand what he said next.
I don’t want to do this press day tomorrow. Talking to all of these people who always ask the most boring questions. You’re different. Send me a picture, will you? So I can think about you all the time.
I shouldn’t have to clarify this, but I’ll do it just in case. I hadn’t gone straight for naked pictures. That first one was an innocent little selfie from my best angle. And remember, heaskedfor it.
Dorian had studied it, a smile forming on his lips.I want more, he’d said.So much more of you.
He was Dorian Fisher and he wanted something from me. It never occurred to me not to give it. Dorian watched as I undid the top button of my blouse—just one to begin with—and took another photo.
Did he force me? No.
