3. Celina #3
“Mr. Fellan is expecting you,” the receptionist said with a smile that seemed genuinely pleased rather than professionally polite. “Right down that hallway to the corner office.”
As they walked down the corridor lined with framed movie posters and industry awards, Celina’s heart began beating faster.
She’d met powerful people before—studio executives, directors, fellow actors, even world leaders at charity events.
She’d stood on the Academy Awards stage and delivered acceptance speeches to millions of viewers without breaking a sweat.
But somehow, the prospect of sitting across from Osias Fellan felt more intimidating than all of those experiences combined.
Because this matters so much to you, she whispered to herself.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” Gerri said as they approached the corner office. “I’ll introduce you, but then I have another client meeting across town. You’ll be fine handling this on your own.”
Celina had been hoping Gerri could serve as a buffer, someone to ease the initial awkwardness and help navigate the conversation.
But perhaps this was better—she needed to handle this situation completely on her own for once, needed to prove to herself that she could manage something this important without a carefully orchestrated support system.
Gerri knocked on the wooden door with confident authority.
“Come in,” came a deep voice from inside, rich and controlled in ways that made Celina’s pulse quicken unexpectedly.
Gerri pushed open the door and stepped through, with Celina following closely behind into an office that surprised her with its minimalist elegance.
Clean lines, neutral colors, and an almost monastic lack of personal touches created a space that felt more like a meditation retreat than the command center of an entertainment empire.
She found it oddly disconcerting—for someone as successful and presumably surrounded by people as Osias Fellan, the absence of family photos or personal memorabilia felt almost stark.
Maybe he doesn’t spend much time here, she thought, trying to reconcile the impersonal space with what she knew about the man who occupied it.
“Gerri, nice to see you again.”
The man behind the desk immediately stood and moved toward them, but something in his posture struck Celina as unexpectedly flustered.
She’d expected legendary confidence, the commanding presence that made entire studios rearrange their schedules around his availability.
Instead, he seemed almost... destabilized.
That’s odd.
He cleared his throat and shook Gerri’s hand with a careful politeness that suggested he was working to maintain his composure.
Celina stepped forward, trying to ignore her racing heartbeat and the way his presence seemed to fill the entire room despite his controlled demeanor. She extended her hand with practiced professionalism.
“Mr. Fellan, I’m Celina Bates. Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.”
But the moment their hands connected, something electric shot through her entire system like touching a live wire.
Heat flooded her body, her breath caught in her throat, and every instinct screamed at her to step closer to this man rather than maintaining appropriate professional distance.
The sensation was completely unprecedented, utterly unprofessional, and thoroughly destabilizing.
His striking blue eyes darkened to something deeper and more intense, his grip tightened around her fingers, and the air between them seemed to crackle with an energy that had nothing to do with business meetings.
She could smell cedar and spice and something wild that made her want to lean into him and discover what other surprises he might be hiding beneath that perfectly tailored suit.
What is happening to me?
“Well, it looks like you two connected already!” Gerri’s voice cut through whatever spell had descended over them both. “I really must be getting to my next client meeting. Osias, please say hello to Pell for me.”
Osias seemed to shake himself back to reality, breaking their handshake with visible reluctance. “Of course, Gerri.”
Then Gerri disappeared, leaving them alone in his minimalist office with the echo of whatever had just passed between them still humming in the air like electricity after a lightning strike.
He gestured toward the chair across from his desk, his movements careful and controlled, though she noticed he seemed almost reluctant to step away from her.
She settled into the seat, trying to remember all the carefully prepared talking points she’d rehearsed the night before about collaboration and authentic storytelling and the future of Bates Films.
But when she looked up and met his blue eyes across the expanse of his desk, every prepared line vanished from her mind like morning mist. He was staring at her with a piercing intensity that made her feel simultaneously exposed and protected, as if he could see straight through every carefully constructed layer she’d spent decades perfecting.
This meeting might fail before it even starts.