CHAPTER THREE: ADVISING THE ADVISOR
1084 Words
8:30 a.m. sharp — that was the arrangement.
Sophia Miller was meant to be seated politely in Stanley Johnson’s office, awaiting proper orientation before being ushered into her new role.
Mrs. Wellington herself had arranged it. A smooth handoff. A warm welcome. A soft cushion before the plunge.
But then again, it's Sophia Millers here.
It was already 9:00 a.m and Sophia was no where to be found. Stanley already got busy with the work of the day after he realized she wasn't showing up.
He couldn't even being himself to get mad or sad. It was strictly Mrs. Wellington orders, and no one, absolutely no one can defy Mrs. Wellington.
It was 9:52 a.m when Sophia finally burst through the building’s revolving doors like a contestant late for a reality show audition.
Flustered. Sweating. Clutching a handbag that swung like a wrecking ball.
Here comes in a walking disaster into Richard's Wellington's company, and probably his life.
She darted past the front desk, heels clicking against the pristine marble floor, muttering apologies to no one in particular.
"Sorry!!...Sorry!!.." she's say as she makes her way through the hallway.
Her hair was already getting messy.
As she raced down the corridor toward the elevators, her eyes locked on a familiar figure — sharp suit, brisk pace, Bluetooth in ear.
Stanley Johnson.
“Sir!” she called.
Nothing.
“Mr. Johnson!” she tried again, louder, running toward him.
He turned slightly, still walking. “Yes?”
“I’m so sorry for being late, I—”
Stanley cut her off with a wave. “Not now. Security issue in R&D. Richard’s already chewing heads. I need to fix it before it becomes a full massacre.”
Sophia blinked. “Oh... should I just wait in your office then?”
He nodded distractedly. “Yes, yes. Wait there. I’ll be back soon.”
And with that, he disappeared down the corridor.
Unknown to Stanley, Richard's impatient made him go over to his office to wait for him there.
Sophia relieved that he wasn’t yelling, made her way to his office. The door was slightly ajar, so she pushed it open and stepped in.
There was someone already inside.
A man. Seated. Calm.
He sat in one of the guest chairs facing Stanley’s desk, legs crossed, suit pristine. The air around him felt... cold. Stilled. Like walking into a room with the AC turned too low.
“Good morning,” she said casually, brushing a curl from her face.
He looked up slowly, expression unreadable.
Sophia walked in fully, closing the door behind her. “Did he ask you to wait too?”
A pause. Richard just looked at her, his face expressionless as always.
Without waiting for a reply, she responded "me too, yunno... and here I was thinking I'm the only one that was late. Atleast I'm only an hour late"
An hour.
Sixty minutes.
A whole sixty minutes.
Richard Wellington's principle permitted only three minutes of lateness, and that with a very reasonable excuse, and should not occur more than once.
And here was this bunch of mess, praising herself for not being more than an hour late.
Richard rolled his eyes inwardly, but ofcourse, his face wasn't telling anything.
She looked around the room, her gaze dancing from the bookshelf to the sleek decor before landing back on the man beside her.
“You don't look bad by the way. You'd surely make an impression with your outfit"
Richard Wellington didn’t flinch.
The compliment didn’t amuse him. It didn’t surprise him. It simply irritated him.
No one — absolutely no one — complimented his outfits. They were never up for discussion. They were declarations. Tailored perfection. Statements without words.
He turned his head, just a little. Cold eyes met her warm ones.
She blinked. “No need to be so tense. I mean, you’re already dressed like a CEO.” She laughed at her own joke.
Richard said nothing.
“Hey,” she nudged him playfully, “just relax. Be yourself. Look at me—” she stood and twirled, nearly bumping into the coffee table. “Simple, natural; That's all you need to make it through.”
She sat back down with a proud grin. “I’m Sophia, by the way.”
No response.
She stretched her hand toward him. He didn’t move.
She dropped it back into her lap, sighing.
“Still nervous?” she asked, amused.
He remained silent.
“Okay, I get it. Big day. But trust me — as long as you’re not working for that brutal CEO who thinks the world rotates around him, you’re good to go.”
That... got his attention.
He tilted his head slightly. “Have you met him?”
“Nope,” she said, eyes wide. “But I’ve heard enough. Apparently, he’s this stern, annoying, older-than-his-age, strict guy, who gets annoyed by everything and anything..”
Richard’s expression didn’t change. But inside, he was now fully awake.
“I’m working for him, actually,” she added proudly.
He raised an eyebrow. “You are?”
He wondered who this girl is, and how she's working for him without his knowledge. He couldn't wait for Stanley to come back already.
“Oh, yeah, I am actually” she whispered like it was juicy gossip, eyes-widened, voice low. “I’ve got it all figured out. I know exactly how to make him like me.”
Richard almost laughed — almost.
“You do?” he asked, his voice like polished steel.
Sophia nodded eagerly. “For starters, be real. Own your vibe. Rock your outfit. Show up with energy. He will be so thrilled!!”
Richard studied her, silent, face-palming himself inwardly. He didn't know which was more hilarious — the sheer confidence or the bottomless ignorance.
He didn’t even have to try to intimidate her. She was too busy giving him unsolicited pep talks to notice the room or even more, his aura.
"Don't worry, I'd always be here to help you out when you need me, okay?"
"Okay" he said coldly.
And truthfully, he didn't know why he responded, except that this strange girl was already having this imaginary conversation that she tagged him along.
Sophia grinned like they were already best friends.
Richard looked away, resisting the urge to smile — not because he found her amusing, but because he was starting to wonder what crime he’d committed in a past life to deserve this exact form of punishment.
- Writer
