Page 11 of His to Correct

“Gentlemen,” Heather addressed them, “this is Melissa Mitropoulos, your new team member. Melissa, meet Alex, Connor, Ethan, Joe, and Tyler.”

The men nodded and murmured greetings. Their expressions ranged from polite interest to barely concealed skepticism. I forced a smile, determined not to let their scrutiny unnerve me.

“Your desk is right here,” Heather continued, gesturing to the empty workstation. “You’ll find all the necessary equipment and access codes in your welcome packet.”

I nodded, setting my bag down on the desk. The surface was immaculate, the computer sleek and new. Despite my reservations about Selecta, I couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at the thought of diving into my work.

“Now,” Heather said, checking her watch, “Mr. Harrington would like to meet with you in his office. If you’ll follow me?”

My stomach clenched at the mention of Stuart Harrington. I had read about him, of course, as I had readied myself formy new job—the enigmatic overseer of Selecta’s controversial entertainment division. The man, I knew after yesterday, had to be ultimately responsible for New Modesty Blue.

Heather led me down a long corridor, past rows of glass-walled conference rooms and executive offices. At the end of the hall stood an imposing set of double doors. She knocked twice, then opened one door and ushered me inside.

My breath hitched a little as I took in the impressive space—the proverbial corner office, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline. Sleek modern furniture in muted grays and blues complemented the polished wood floors. Abstract art adorned the walls, as if to say that the office’s occupant had the leisure time to develop his tastes—and to spend accordingly.

But it was the man behind the imposing mahogany desk who truly commanded my attention. Stuart Harrington rose as we entered, his tall, athletic frame unfolding with easy grace. He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that accentuated his broad shoulders. His dark hair was neatly styled, a touch of distinguished silver at the temples. His eyes, though—they captivated me. Or maybe they captured me. Deep ocean blue, focused, seeming to look right through my skin into my mind.

“Stuart,” Heather said, “this is Melissa Mitropoulos, our new junior executive.”

Stuart stepped around his desk, extending his hand with a warm smile. “Miss Mitropoulos, welcome. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

As I shook his hand, I felt a jolt of electricity at his touch. His firm, confident grip lingered just a moment longer than strictlynecessary. I found myself having to remind my lungs to function properly.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. Harrington,” I managed to say, proud that my voice remained steady despite the sudden flutter in my stomach.

“Please, call me Stuart,” he said, his voice a rich baritone.

Heather cleared her throat softly. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Melissa, I’ll be at my desk if you need anything later.”

As the door closed behind Heather, I suddenly felt very aware of being alone with Stuart. He gestured to a pair of leather armchairs near the window. “Please, have a seat. Can I offer you some coffee?”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” I said, sinking into one of the chairs. I watched as Stuart moved to a sleek espresso machine in the corner, his movements fluid and purposeful.

“I have to say,” Stuart began as he prepared our drinks, “I was quite impressed by your application. Especially your writing sample on the potential for Selecta’s social media portfolio.”

I blinked in surprise. “You read that yourself?”

Stuart chuckled, a warm, rich sound that made my cheeks flush. “Of course. I like to be hands-on with my team, especially when it comes to new talent.” He returned with two steaming cups, handing one to me before taking the seat opposite. “Your ideas about leveraging micro-influencers to subtly shift societal norms—very innovative. I’d be interested in hearing more about how you’d apply that strategy to some of our more… sensitive properties.”

I took a sip of coffee to buy myself a moment to collect my thoughts. The rich, complex flavor bloomed on my tongue. As I lowered the cup, I caught Stuart studying me intently, his blue eyes slightly narrowed, as if assessing me.

“I also noticed in your application,” Stuart said, his voice casual but his gaze still penetrating, “that you’re quite the fan of Edward Gibbon.The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, if I’m not mistaken?”

I felt a flush of pleasure at his recognition of this detail. “Yes, that’s right,” I replied, unable to keep a note of enthusiasm from my voice. “I know it’s old-fashioned and outdated from a historiographical point of view…”

My cheeks flared into heat as I heard myself, but I could see in Stuart’s eyes that he appreciated my passion. That only made my embarrassment grow, but I kept going if only to cover my confusion.

“But… you know. The way his reasoning works… the basic analysis of how societal structures evolve and collapse. Just the, you know, majesty of his prose.”

Stuart leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Indeed. I wonder what Gibbon would make of Selecta, don’t you? How might he view our role in shaping modern society?”

The question caught me off guard. I opened my mouth to respond, but found myself hesitating. My mind raced, trying to reconcile Gibbon’s historical analysis with the reality of Selecta’s practices that I had witnessed just yesterday.

“I… I’m not entirely sure,” I began, feeling my cheeks grow warm. “To be honest, I only learned yesterday that New ModestyBlue is the most important property in Selecta’s entertainment portfolio. I’m still processing that information and… well, I’m not quite sure how to feel about it, whether from Gibbon’s perspective or my own.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Stuart’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.

“Miss Mitropoulos,” he said, his voice sharp and cold, “let me give you some advice that will serve you well here at Selecta. Whether you’re sure how to feel about New Modesty Blue or not, I suggest you pretend that you feel just fine about it. In fact, I insist upon it. Is that clear?”

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