A crack of thunder emphasized his point, followed by the sudden patter of rain on the roof.
"Always the voice of caution," she called back, her tone mocking. "Don't you ever get tired of playing it safe?"
He rounded a corner and finally caught up to her in a circular room where dozens of mirrors created an infinite regression of their reflections. Victoria stood in the center, surrounded by countless versions of herself stretching into the distance.
"Which one do you think is real?" she asked, gesturing to her reflections. "The CEO? The blessed daughter? The bitch everyone whispers about when they think I can't hear?"
Before James could respond, a loud crack sounded overhead. They both looked up as a section of the ceiling gave way, sending debris crashing down onto the path they'd just traversed.
Victoria stumbled backward in surprise, colliding with James. He steadied her, instinctively pulling her away from the falling debris.
"We need to get out of here," he said urgently, scanning for an exit.
"This way," Victoria pointed to a maintenance door at the far end of the circular room. They rushed toward it, dust and small debris continuing to fall as the aging structure protested against the sudden storm.
James reached the door first, yanking the handle. It opened to reveal a small storage room, barely larger than a closet. "In here," he directed, ushering Victoria inside.
The moment they both squeezed in, the door swung shut with an ominous click. James immediately tried the handle—it wouldn't budge.
"It's locked," he said, a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"What do you mean, locked?" Victoria demanded, her voice sharp with emerging panic. "How can it be locked from the outside?"
"Old spring mechanism," James explained, examining the door in the dim light filtering through a tiny hole. "It's designed to close automatically. Security measure to prevent people from sneaking in through the maintenance areas."
Victoria pressed herself against the opposite wall, which wasn't far given the confined space. "So break it down!"
"It's a security door, Victoria. Solid metal." He pulled out his phone. "No signal. The storm and these concrete walls..."
Another crash from outside the storage room made them both jump. The building was becoming increasingly unstable.
"So we're trapped," Victoria said flatly.
"Until the storm passes and we can call for help, yes," James confirmed, trying to create as much space between them as possible in the tiny room. It was a futile effort—the closet was barely five feet square, with shelving taking up one wall. Their bodies were uncomfortably sandwiched, a situation made worse by the rising temperature in the unventilated space.
"Wonderful," Victoria hissed. "Trapped in a closet in an abandoned amusement park. This is exactly how I planned to spend my evening."
"You're the one who insisted on coming here," James reminded her, his patience wearing thin. "Despite my warnings about safety concerns."
Victoria's eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize exploring an amusement park would end with us locked in a glorified box."
"An abandoned, structurally unsound amusement park," he corrected, frustration loosening his usually careful speech. "Which I specifically advised against entering."
They glared at each other in the dim light, both breathing heavily from the adrenaline and the confined space. Victoria was so close that James could smell her perfume—something expensive and subtle that he'd caught hints of in elevators and meeting rooms but never this directly.
"Don't you dare say 'I told you so,'" she warned, her voice low.
"I wasn't going to," he replied, though the thought had certainly crossed his mind.
A moment of silence stretched between them, filled only by the sound of the rain and occasional rumbles of thunder. Every tiny movement one of them made forced their bodies to press together in a new, awkward configuration.
"Don't breathe so heavily," Victoria snapped. "You're taking up too much space."
James let out an incredulous laugh. "I'm breathing normally. And if anyone's taking up space with unnecessary movement, it's you."
"Are you implying I'm—"
"I'm implying that this closet was built for one person with a toolbox, not two adults." He shifted slightly, trying to ease the cramp developing in his shoulder. "And if you'd stop squirming, we might both be marginally more comfortable."
"I am not squirming," she hissed, though she immediately stilled. "This is a disaster. I have the Tokyo call to reschedule, the board meeting tomorrow, and I'm trapped in a utility closet with my assistant who can't even manage to make himself smaller."
"My height is not the problem here," James responded, his patience finally snapping. "Your impulsiveness is. Three years I've worked for you, Victoria. Three years I've put up with you because you're brilliant at what you do, but this—" he gestured as much as the confined space would allow, "—this is ridiculous even for you."
Victoria went rigid against him. In their forced proximity, she could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the warmth radiating from his body.
"No one's ever spoken to me like that," she said, her voice oddly quiet.
"Maybe someone should have a long time ago."
The tiny room seemed to shrink further as tension thickened the air between them. Victoria was close enough that James could count her long eyelashes, as they cast a shadow across her cheeks—details invisible at their usual professional distance.
"If you're so miserable working for me, why do you stay?" she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're overqualified—despite your height," she added with a hint of her usual bite. "I'm demanding. Difficult. You could accept Winters offer."
The question caught him off guard with its honesty. Before he could formulate a response, the building around them groaned ominously, and dust filtered down from the ceiling. Victoria instinctively pressed closer to him, her hand gripping his arm.
"We need to get out of here," she said, urgency replacing vulnerability.
James nodded, turning his attention back to the door. "If we can remove these hinges, we might be able to push it out from this side."
As they awkwardly maneuvered in the tiny space to examine the door, James wondered what Victoria's momentary candor might have revealed had they not been interrupted. And what his answer might have been to her question—why did he stay?
The truth, he realized as they focused on the door hinges, was both simpler and more complicated than either of them was ready to acknowledge.