"This is for Ethan," James explained unnecessarily. "The 3D excavation kit includes a virtual reality component that explores the Cretaceous period specifically. The reviews suggest it's challenging enough for advanced eight-year-olds but still engaging."
Victoria picked up the box, examining the wrapping appreciatively. "Good choice." She set it down and turned to her computer, apparently considering the matter closed.
James hesitated by the door. "Will you be seeing him for his birthday?"
The question was unprofessional, prying into her personal life in a way he rarely dared. Victoria looked up sharply, her expression unreadable.
"Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering if you needed me to arrange shipping."
She studied him for a moment, as if deciding whether to believe his explanation. "No. I'm having dinner with my aunt and her family tomorrow night."
This was more personal information than Victoria had voluntarily shared in three years. James fought to keep his surprise from showing.
"I didn't realize you had dinner with your family regularly."
Victoria's gaze turned cool. "There's a great deal you don't realize about me, James."
The rebuke was clear, but there was something else in her tone—defensiveness, perhaps. As if she'd revealed too much and regretted it.
James nodded. "Of course. Is there anything else you need before the Anderson call at three?"
Victoria seemed about to dismiss him, then paused. "How did you know the dry cleaner would have my items ready today? I mentioned just the address 8th in the email."
"I called ahead. They always prioritize your orders—apparently you're their most valuable customer." James allowed himself a small smile. "The owner said, and I quote, 'Ms. Sharp's standards keep us honest.'"
Victoria's lips twitched, almost a smile. "They do good work."
"They're terrified of you."
"As they should be." Now she did smile, briefly but genuinely. "Thank you for handling these matters, James. I know they're not strictly within your job description."
The acknowledgment, rare as a solar eclipse, caught him off guard. "You're welcome."
Her expression shifted, becoming uncharacteristically hesitant. "My nephew... Ethan has difficulties with social interaction. His birthday parties are often... challenging for him. Having a gift he'll genuinely appreciate helps."
James nodded, suddenly understanding. Victoria Sharp, the notorious ice queen of the marketing world, had a soft spot for a socially awkward eight-year-old boy who loved dinosaurs.
"Is that why you're attending? To make sure he has a good birthday?"
Victoria looked away, busying herself with straightening papers on her desk. "I attend because he's my cousin and it's expected."
But James had seen it—the flicker of genuine concern in her eyes when she mentioned Ethan's difficulties. That rare glimpse of humanity beneath her carefully maintained facade.
"Of course," he said simply, allowing her the dignity of her pretense. "The Anderson call is in twenty minutes. I've prepared talking points based on Winters's proposal."
Victoria nodded, professional mask firmly back in place. "Good. And James?"
"Yes?"
"Has Winters contacted you again about his offer?"
The question was casual, too casual. James considered lying, then decided against it. "He suggested lunch two days from today."
Victoria's expression didn't change, but her fingers tensed almost imperceptibly on her desk. "And you said?"
"That I'd check my schedule."
She nodded once. "You should go."
James blinked in surprise. "You want me to have lunch with Winters?"
"I want you to gather information." Victoria leaned back in her chair, studying him. "Find out exactly what he's offering. What role he envisions for you. How much he knows about our Anderson strategy."
"You want me to spy on him," James clarified.
Victoria shrugged elegantly. "I want you to make an informed decision. If his offer is genuine and compelling, you should consider it. If he's using you to get information about Sharp Innovations..."
She let the implication hang in the air between them.
"I see." James kept his tone neutral. "And what about my future here? Last night you implied there might be opportunities beyond my current role."
Victoria's gaze was steady. "There are. But I won't make promises just to counter Winters's offer. That's not how I operate."
"Then how do you operate, Victoria?" The question slipped out before he could stop it, more confrontational than he'd intended.
Rather than bristle at his tone, she seemed to consider the question seriously. "I reward loyalty and competence when they're earned. Not when they're leveraged."
It was both an answer and a challenge. James nodded slowly. "I'll let Winters know I'm available for lunch tomorrow."
"Good." Victoria turned back to her computer.
"Now, the Anderson call?"
"I'll bring the materials right away."
As James returned to his desk, he found himself thinking about the gift for Ethan. Victoria could have ordered it online in two minutes. Could have had her housekeeper or personal shopper handle it. Instead, she'd assigned the task to James—not because she was thoughtlessly offloading personal errands, but because she trusted him to select something meaningful for someone she actually cared about.
It wasn't an apology for her demanding nature or a promise of professional advancement. But it was, in its way, a glimpse of the human being behind the impeccable suits and impossible standards. A woman who worried about her socially awkward young cousin and wanted to make his birthday special.
James texted Winters back:
Lunch tomorrow works. 1 PM?
The response came almost immediately:
Perfect. I'll send a car. Looking forward to it.
James set his phone aside and pulled up the Anderson materials, pushing thoughts of tomorrow's lunch from his mind. Today, he still worked for Victoria Sharp. And despite the dry cleaning runs and personal shopping, despite her demanding nature and casual dismissals, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted that to change.
He glanced toward her office, where she sat reviewing documents with laser focus, a faint frown of concentration creasing her forehead. The glimpse of humanity he'd seen when she spoke of her nephew had already been tucked away, hidden beneath layers of professional armor.
But he'd seen it. And that, more than any VP title or corner office, was why he hesitated to accept Winters's offer. Because beneath Victoria's impossible standards and cutting remarks was a person worth knowing—someone who remembered the difference between a dinosaur and a specific dinosaur from the Cretaceous period when it mattered to a little boy she saw rarely but clearly cared about.
And James, despite his better judgment, wanted to know more about that Victoria Sharp.
_________________________________________
It was nearly 10 PM when he reached his apartment building, his shoulders heavy with fatigue.
"Another late night with the dragon lady?"
James looked up to find Sophia leaning against her doorframe across the hall, arms crossed over her paint-splattered t-shirt. Her curly hair was piled haphazardly on top of her head, and she held a paintbrush in one hand.
"You're up late yourself," he observed, fumbling for his keys.
"Inspiration strikes at the worst times." She gestured vaguely toward her apartment, where he knew canvases were likely strewn across every surface. "But I don't have some corporate tyrant working me to death. Seriously, James, when was the last time you were home before midnight?"
He shrugged, too tired to defend Victoria or explain the complexity of their professional relationship. "It's just a busy period. It'll calm down."
"You've been saying that ever since I moved in," Sophia pointed out, crossing the hallway to stand closer. The scent of turpentine and lavender surrounded her. "I made lasagna earlier. There's plenty left if you haven't eaten."
James smiled, touched by the offer. Sophia had moved in across the hall a year ago, and they'd fallen into an easy friendship. She was warm and uncomplicated—everything Victoria wasn't.
"Thanks, but I grabbed something at the office," he lied, not wanting to impose.
Sophia's eyes, bright and perceptive, studied his face. "You know, there are other jobs out there. Jobs where your boss actually appreciates you."
"Ms. Sharp appreciates me," he said automatically, then caught himself. "In her way."
Sophia's skeptical expression said everything her words didn't. "Right. Well, my offer stands for the lasagna. And if you ever want to talk about why you're still working for someone who treats you like an afterthought, I'm a pretty good listener."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said, finally getting his door open. "Goodnight, Sophia."
Inside his apartment, James dropped his bag and collapsed onto his sofa without bothering to turn on the lights. His phone buzzed with a text message. Expecting Victoria with some midnight demand, he was surprised to see Sophia's name instead.
For what it's worth, any woman who doesn't see how incredible you are doesn't deserve your dedication. Sleep well, workaholic.
James stared at the message, unsure how to respond. He appreciated Sophia's kindness, but she didn't understand. Few people did. His relationship with Victoria wasn't simple admiration or masochistic loyalty. It was... complicated.
His phone buzzed again. Victoria this time.
Received your analysis. Meet me in my office at 7 AM to discuss before the executive team arrives.
He typed a quick acknowledgment, then set his alarm for 5:30 AM. As exhaustion pulled him toward sleep, James wondered, not for the first time, why he continued to orbit Victoria's demanding presence when someone like Sophia offered warmth without complications.
The answer, he knew, lay somewhere in the determined set of Victoria's shoulders when she faced down a room of skeptical investors, or in the rare moments when her carefully constructed walls slipped just enough to reveal the vulnerability beneath her armor. In those glimpses, he saw someone worth fighting for—even when she was fighting him.
His last thought before sleep claimed him was of Victoria's smiling face when she'd mentioned her cousin.