James stared at his screen in disbelief. The calendar invite for Victoria's meeting with the Hanson Group showed 2:00 PM. He distinctly remembered scheduling it for 11:00 AM.
"That's not possible," he muttered, clicking through to the email thread.
There it was—Victoria's original instruction: "Schedule Hanson for eleven, not two. I have the board strategy session at two." The email was timestamped Tuesday, 7:43 PM. He recalled receiving it while at dinner with friends, one of the rare social engagements he hadn't canceled. He'd read the email, made a mental note, and then...nothing. He'd forgotten to actually update the calendar.
The realization made his chest tighten. In three years as Victoria's executive assistant, he had prided himself on flawless execution. Three years of early mornings, late nights, canceled vacations, and rescheduled personal commitments—all to maintain the perfect professional choreography that Victoria Sharp demanded. Three years of knowing exactly why he stayed despite everything—his feelings for her that he couldn't seem to extinguish no matter how much his rational mind warned him against them.
James's stomach dropped. The Hanson Group was flying in specifically for this meeting—their CEO, CFO, and entire innovation team. Victoria had been pursuing them for months. And now, at 10:17 AM, they were presumably already en route to the Sharp Innovations offices, expecting to meet Victoria in forty-three minutes.
Victoria, who was currently across town at a breakfast presentation that wouldn't end until at least 11:30.
James reached for his phone with unsteady hands. As Victoria's executive assistant, he had made exactly three scheduling errors in three years. Each had been minor and easily fixable. This was neither minor nor fixable. The Hanson Group was too important, the executives' time too valuable, and Victoria's reputation for precision too essential to her authority.
What made the mistake even more frustrating was that he'd been distracted at dinner, his thoughts drifting to Victoria even during his rare night out. The way she'd looked in the car after the Petrov dinner, her guard momentarily lowered, had occupied his thoughts for days. He knew better than to analyze her every word, knew better than to search for meaning in her rare moments of warmth, but he couldn't help himself. The simple truth that he'd been trying to deny since his first year with her was that his feelings ran far deeper than professional respect or admiration.
He called Victoria's private line. It went straight to voicemail, which meant she had her phone off during the presentation—standard Victoria protocol. He sent an urgent text, knowing she occasionally checked texts even during events:
Emergency. Hanson meeting scheduled incorrectly for 11:00 AM today, not 2:00 PM. Please call ASAP.
Next, he called Marcus. "I need you to stall the Hanson Group when they arrive. Tell them Victoria's previous meeting is running long, offer the full coffee and pastry service, the works. I'm trying to reach her now."
"Jesus, James. The Hanson people? Ms. Sharp will—"
"I know what Ms. Sharp will do," James cut him off. "Just buy me some time."
He tried her number again. Voicemail. He debated his options. He could call the event coordinator at the breakfast presentation and ask them to get Victoria an urgent message, but interrupting her during a keynote would only add public embarrassment to her anger.
His phone rang. Victoria's private line.
"James." Her voice was clipped, precise. "Explain."
He could tell she had stepped out of the presentation to take his call—the muffled sound of applause in the background confirmed it.
"I made a scheduling error. The Hanson Group is arriving at 11:00, not 2:00. I have Marcus ready to stall them, but you won't be back in time." He kept his explanation concise, knowing Victoria hated rambling excuses.
The silence that followed was worse than any immediate explosion of anger. When Victoria finally spoke, her voice was deadly calm.
"Where is the presentation deck?"
"On the shared drive and on your tablet. The latest version, fully updated with the revisions you requested yesterday."
"And you're certain they're coming at eleven?"
"Yes. I found your email with the clear instruction. I simply..." He hesitated. "I failed to update the calendar after receiving it."
Another pause. James could almost see her calculating options, evaluating the least damaging course of action.
"Have Marcus take them to the executive conference room, not the main boardroom. Tell them I'm running fifteen minutes behind. Set up my tablet on the podium." Her voice was controlled, methodical. "Then get Crawford from Legal to cover the first ten minutes with the NDA review. I'll connect remotely at 11:15."
It was a salvage plan, not ideal but workable. Victoria would present virtually until she could get back to the office.
"I'll handle it," James confirmed.
"Yes, you will." The edge in her voice could have cut glass. "And James? We'll discuss this failure afterward."
The line went dead.
James moved quickly, setting everything in motion. He messaged Crawford, briefed Marcus, and prepared the conference room. He set up Victoria's tablet, testing the video connection twice to ensure flawless functionality. At 10:58, the reception desk called to announce the Hanson Group's arrival.
As he waited for the elevator to bring the Hanson team up, James felt sweat beading at his collar. In any other workplace, a scheduling mix-up would be an embarrassing but forgivable error. At Sharp Innovations, under Victoria's leadership, it was potentially career-ending—not because Victoria would fire him over one mistake, but because her respect, once lost, was nearly impossible to regain.
The Hanson executives arrived, all polished smiles and firm handshakes. James escorted them to the conference room, smoothly explaining that Victoria was finishing an urgent client call and would join them momentarily. Crawford arrived with the legal documents, buying precious minutes with procedural requirements.
At precisely 11:15, the large screen on the wall flickered to life, revealing Victoria's face. She was in what appeared to be a private office at the presentation venue, her expression composed and confident.
"Mr. Hanson, Ms. Reeves, gentlemen," she began, her voice betraying no hint of the logistical crisis unfolding. "Thank you for your patience. I appreciate your making time for this discussion today."
James stood at the back of the room, tablet in hand, ready to advance her presentation slides remotely as needed. Victoria caught his eye briefly through the camera, her gaze arctic.
For the next twenty minutes, Victoria conducted the meeting flawlessly from her remote location. If the Hanson executives were bothered by the arrangement, they showed no sign of it. Victoria was, as always, compelling and authoritative, deftly handling questions and objections with the precision of a surgeon.
At 11:37, the conference room door opened silently, and Victoria herself walked in, impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place despite what must have been a frantic journey across town. James blinked in surprise—she'd made it back far sooner than expected.
Without missing a beat, Victoria seamlessly transitioned from the screen to in-person presence, apologizing once for the "unusual start to our meeting" before guiding the conversation into deeper strategic waters. The screen behind her went dark as James disconnected the remote feed.
The remainder of the meeting proceeded perfectly. By 12:45, the Hanson Group was committed to moving forward with a partnership. As James escorted them out, Tim Hanson himself commented, "Sharp by name, sharp by nature. Your CEO doesn't miss a detail, does she?"
James managed a professional smile. "Precision is something of a religion around here."
When he returned to the conference room, Victoria was still seated at the head of the table, reviewing notes on her tablet. The room was empty otherwise.
"Close the door," she said without looking up.
James did as instructed, then stood waiting for the explosion. Victoria continued reviewing her notes for another full minute—a power move designed to amplify his discomfort.