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“We’ve spoken to Shane Eldridge—the head of production, as you know—and he’s working with the production staff to see what he can find out,” Ted said, folding his hands on top of his desk. “The alert was released only two hours ago. You know there are protocols in place and proper procedures that we have to follow. We need more time.”
“Here’s what I know …” I glanced at each of their faces. Their lawyer had coached them to stay aloof, revealing nothing that could hold them accountable. “The leak had to come from your studio. Whether it was from the executive side or from someone in the editing room or the production team, it doesn’t matter. Their intention and their actions hurt my client.”
“We’re not in the business to hurt anyone, Dominick. I assure you, we want answers as quickly as you do.”
Ted was filling me with meaningless corporate jargon. Words I would have told my client to say if one of them were sitting on the other side of this desk.
“We both know you’re in the business to make money,” I barked. “Whoever sold those photos hit a large payday—not to mention, the media attention the show has gained as a result.” I gripped my armrests before I pounded my fists on his goddamn desk. “Kendall Roy has been violated. She put her trust in your studio, and you’ve destroyed that trust. She won’t be stepping foot on any of your sets or in front of any of your cameras until I’m satisfied with the answers you’ve provided.”
“She’s under contractual obligations—”
I cut off the attorney with, “We both know I can tear up that motherfucking contract.”
“Dominick,” the CFO started, “I need to remind you, Kendall was warned that whatever occurred in that apartment, including each of the rooms inside, would be on camera. That footage is accessible and legally allowed to be shared.”
The anger in my chest was fucking erupting.
“Photos of her ass, of her on her goddamn knees, are not in the realm of appropriate, and apparently, I need to remind you of that.”
“But still … permitted,” he continued.
That footage wouldn’t have made it past the editing room. If it did, possibly airing a ruffling under the covers or a seductive pose prior to any physical engagement, her body would have been blurred. Pornographic material in any capacity was not authorized to be aired.
He knew that.
They all fucking knew that.
I pushed myself to the end of my chair. “Let’s cut the bullshit right now. Even if the photos weren’t timestamped, I know the date those still shots were taken. I know because it’s me who’s in them.”
All four men glanced at each other, their expressions unchanged.
“The date it took place was prior to the start of filming, a date when you were not supposed to be recording any material in that apartment.” I stared into Ted’s wrinkled fucking face. “I need answers. I need names. And I need to know how you plan to make this right.”
“We’re working as hard as we can, Dominick. You have my word.”
I could wipe my ass with Ted’s word.
In this building, he represented the studio—our social interactions counted for nothing.
I stood. “You have forty-eight hours.”
As I began walking to the door, Ted exclaimed, “Forty-eight hours isn’t nearly enough time—”
“Not a second more,” I said, and I shut the door behind me.
