Heartbreaks toward Redemption

2 - Songs of Mercy

His eyes are finally elsewhere, seeking the obvious answer as he ambles around the office. "I've been enlightened that we're joined by a new face recently, is that true?"

All of them shift their attention toward me. How I wish I'd died from a car crash or something.

Reluctantly, I stand up from my seat and raise my hand like a middle schooler getting caught for not bringing her homework to school.

Mr. Harrington crosses his arms against his chest. "Huh, new face. Introduce yourself, please."

My gaze fails to still on him but all over the room. "I'm Audrey Collins. You can call me 'Audrey'. I'm, uh, 22 this year and officially started working a month ago."

"So, what makes you so noteworthy to get accepted despite the full house we have here? Do humor us with your sentiments, Miss Collins."

The noble man, whom I now assume is his secretary, glances at Mr. Harrington briefly before his head hangs down in chagrin. The rest is murmuring among themselves that their voices have become fainter and more distant. I already lost count of how many times I swallowed my throat today.

"Well, I believe Mrs. Voake saw the potential in me that I have yet to discover." My hands flail in the air while answering. "Previously, I worked for—"

"Would you mind elaborating on the potential you have? I assure you that everyone here is sterling in their work of expertise. Perhaps even better, dare I say. So, what makes you outstand the others?" Mr. Harrington continues to fire me in his exploding British accent.

"Shoot it out, Collins!"

"Yeah, do humor us!"

Everyone hoots with laughter. Mrs. Voake gives a loud disagreement sound from her throat, but it's not going to make him back down.

"Since I'm still new here, I haven't discovered my potential yet. But, I do hope to find it along the way with the help of my colleagues."

He scoffs with a questioning smile on his lips. "You're alleging that a full month of working here hasn't been a fruitful lesson to you, Miss Collins. Good heavens, it seems to me that your colleagues haven't been mentoring you, have they?"

I have become a silent corpse. Everyone here is waiting to judge my answer. Mr. Harrington doesn't have to publicly hit the truth button about how my colleagues have been treating me for the past month — that I'm their loyal, obedient lapdog.

Miranda Bailey is considered an iconic character in the early seasons for hazing the new interns in her 'Nazi style'. Everyone loves her for that.

But not this man, who seems to set riling me up ever since I accidentally stepped on his precious Bolvaint.

"The tick is tocking, Miss Collins." Mr. Harrington cocks his brow in amusement.

Honestly, fuck being so polite.

I stand straight on my feet, my body fully turns to him. "They've been terribly good mentors to me, actually. I want to work here because I don't want to be jobless. So, here I am."

"Oof, she's daring."

"She's definitely Gen-Z."

I should have died from food poisoning instead of coming back here just to die at the hands of a man.

Out of nowhere, he appears from my behind when I'm focusing on their reactions. He dominates my nerve as he leans in close to my ear. "Working here is going to be a bloody disaster for you, love."

When he murmurs his war declaration, I breathe in the manly scent of fresh aromatic, earthy sandalwood mixed with a pinch of dewy moisture that coated him. He reminds me of the rainy weather.