He swore. “We are getting PR in on this. I’m fucking pissed.”
I wanted to be angry. Getting outed as a Hollywood whore wasn’t ideal for getting new roles. But I was more annoyed than upset. I didn’t really care all that much about my career anymore. The moment Evie came back into my life, everything changed. My priorities had shifted from making myself a billionaire and a household name to making Evie mine. I hadn’t been lying to Evie that night on the boat. If she left Hollywood, then so would I.
“Get showered. I’m gathering a team to come over and fix this. We’ll be there in an hour.”
“What’s there to fix?” I asked, but my agent had already hung up.
My next call was to Evie. She answered, and it was immediately clear that her only concern was my mental health. It soothed me like a hot shower after a brutal workday.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine. This isn’t how I ever planned on the world finding out I’m kind of a slut, but it is what it is. If I lose some fans, then they weren’t really my fans, anyway.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“Because of this? No. But in general, yes. Always. Evie...” I bit back the urge to bring up what I’d been thinking about near the pool. We could tackle living situations once this was all over. Once Elliott Bradley was dead.
“I’ll be over in a bit.”
I got up, showered, and answered what texts I could with quick replies, assuring my friends who’d seen the news that I was fine. Evie showed up at the door, and as I was toasting her a bagel, Anderson and the movie’s PR team came running in. The frantic expressions on their faces were confusing. I licked the cream cheese off the knife and shook my head.
“I topped some producers, not shot them. Calm down.”
“Sebastian,” Stacey, the leader of the PR team, sighed. “People think you’re gay.”
I did a double take. This was what she was focusing on? “Yeah. Bi is on the list. LGBTQ—B is smack dab in the middle. My sexuality is no secret.”
She shook her head. “But you’re supposed to be dating Evie.”
“So? I can be with whoever I want.”
“Not if you’re also sleeping with all thesemen!” She slid into a seat. “I spent the last few months building this magical fake relationship to sell this movie, and now the world thinks you’re fucking every male studio executive in Hollywood.”
“So we just explain that I’m not anymore?” I looked around the kitchen at the concerned team. “I don’t understand the issue. I’ll be honest with you, Stacey. This all reeks of homophobia. If you’re really interested in the details, there are plenty of women on the list of people I’ve fucked for work. I’m not going to hear you out if this is the vibe.”
She looked at Anderson, who stared at her, nodding. “Sebastian is right. Him sleeping with men isn’t the issue. The issue is that—”
“You used sex to get jobs.” Another team member shook his head.
“My previous agent encouraged me,” I explained, hanging my head lower. My gaze slid over to Evie, who was watching intently. I cringed, heat flooding my face. “I’m not exactly proud of all this.”
Stacey perked up. “Who was your agent? Can we find her? Maybe we can shift all of this to her instead.”
“Good luck,” I snickered.
Evie shot me a look, and I forced myself not to react. “I haven’t spoken to Heather since I fired her.”
The dogs began to bark from the entryway, and we all turned.
“Knock knock. Sorry to intrude. I heard everyone was here trying to put out a fire?” Elliott Bradley came in with a smile and wave. “I’m here to help.”
Stacey and the rest of her team turned and visibly swooned. Their eyes went wide, and gasps and whispers rang out among them. “Hi, Mr. Bradley,” Stacey said.
My jaw ticked at the sight of the bastard in my kitchen. “We don’t need your help,” I said through gritted teeth.
“What if we have Evie break up with you, and then you apologize in some big show and you reunite for the premieres?” Stacey suggested.
“Or I can just apologize for using sex to get work,” I offered instead. When she didn’t even look my way, I snapped, “I’m done with this.”
