The storm raged outside the maintenance room, its fury punctuated by occasional crashes as debris hit the building. Inside the cramped space, James and Victoria had passed the thirty minutes in tense silence, each leaning against opposite walls—though in such a confined area, "opposite" meant barely two feet apart.
"How long do these spring storms usually last?" Victoria finally asked, breaking the silence. She had abandoned her blazer, wrapping it over her waist. Her silk blouse clung slightly to her skin in the humid confines of the room.
"Hard to say," James replied, loosening his tie further. "Could be minutes, could be hours."
Victoria checked her watch for the dozenth time. "Davidson will come looking for us eventually."
"If he can even get into the building safely," James countered. "The structure was already unstable, and now with the storm..."
"Always the optimist," she snapped, pushing a strand of hair from her face. "What do you suggest we do? Play charades until rescue arrives?"
James took a deliberate breath. "I suggest we conserve energy and air. This room wasn't designed for extended occupation."
"Fine." Victoria huffed causing her chest to puff out more and rub on his, inadvertently drawing James's attention to the movement. He quickly averted his eyes, focusing on a water stain on the ceiling instead.
The silence resumed, heavier than before. The only sounds were their breathing and the storm outside, both seeming to grow more intense as time passed. The small room had become uncomfortably warm, the air thick and close. James had worked with Victoria for three years, but he'd never been confined with her like this—never been forced to acknowledge her as a physical presence rather than just his demanding boss.
Another ten minutes passed before Victoria broke again. "This is ridiculous. I can't just stand here doing nothing."
"What exactly do you propose to do in a maintenance closet?" James asked, his usual deference fraying at the edges.
"I don't know—something! Anything!" She began to pace, which in the tiny room meant taking one step in each direction. The movement brought her repeatedly into James's personal space, her chest brushing against his chest on each turn.
"Could you stop that?" he asked, pressing himself further against the wall. "You're making the air hotter."
Victoria halted abruptly, her face inches from his. "Are you saying I'm making you hot, James?" There was a taunting edge to her voice, one he recognized from countless boardroom confrontations when she sensed weakness.
"I'm saying your movement is raising the ambient temperature in an already stifling space," he replied evenly, refusing to be baited.
She studied him for a moment, her blue eyes narrowed. "You know what your problem is? You're too controlled. Too contained. Even trapped in an abandoned park during a storm, you maintain that perfect assistant composure."
"I learnt from you or would you prefer I panic?" he asked.
"I'd prefer you be human for once." She drew closer, leaving the non-existent space between them. "Does anything rattle you?"
The proximity was becoming unbearable. James could smell her perfume—something expensive —mixed with the faintest hint of perspiration. It was an intoxicating combination he immediately tried to forget noticing.
"I'm perfectly human," he said, his voice slightly strained. "I just don't see the benefit in making a bad situation worse by losing control."
Victoria's laugh was short and sharp. "Control. That's all you think about, isn't it? Following rules, maintaining boundaries, being proper." She reached up and flicked his tie with one manicured finger. "Even your Windsor knot is perfect after minutes in this hellhole."
James resisted the urge to step away—there was nowhere to go. "Someone in this company needs to maintain standards," he said, immediately regretting the implication.
Victoria's eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me? Are you suggesting I don't maintain standards?"
"Of course not. I just meant—"
"I know exactly what you meant." She leaned closer, her expression dangerous. "You think I was impulsive. Reckless. That my decision lack the usual careful consideration."
The truth was he did think that, but he valued his job—and his life—too much to admit it. "Ms. Sharp, I've always respected your leadership style."
"Don't Ms. Sharp me when we're trapped in a box together," she retorted. "And don't patronize me. Three years you've worked for me, and you still think I don't see the judgment in your eyes when I make calls you disagree with."
James felt a surge of irritation. "If you want honesty, fine. Yes, coming here was reckless. Yes, entering an unstable building during a storm showed poor judgment. And yes, I did warn you about both."
For a moment, Victoria looked genuinely surprised by his candor. Then her eyes flashed with that familiar cold fire. "Finally, some backbone. I was beginning to think your spine was as decorative as your pocket square."
A particularly loud crash from outside made them both jump, inadvertently bringing them even closer together. In the confined space, the sudden movement left them pressed against each other, faces mere inches apart.
Neither moved. James could feel Victoria's breath on his lips, the rise and fall of her chest against his. For a suspended moment, something electric passed between them—something that had nothing to do with their professional relationship.
Victoria was the first to break the silence, her voice unusually low. "If you move your head even slightly, we'll be kissing."
The observation hung in the air between them, neither accusation nor invitation—just a statement of fact that somehow changed everything about the atmosphere in the tiny room.
"Then perhaps you shouldn't talk," James replied, his voice barely audible over the storm outside. He was painfully aware of every point of contact between their bodies, of the way her eyes dropped briefly to his mouth before meeting his gaze again.
"Are you telling your boss to be quiet?" Victoria asked, not moving away. If anything, she seemed to lean infinitesimally closer, testing boundaries she herself had established long ago.
"I'm suggesting that in our current position, speaking creates... complications," he managed, desperately trying to maintain his professional demeanor when all he could focus on was the fact that her lips were close enough that he could feel her form each word.
"Complications," she repeated, the movement brushing her lips against his for the briefest moment.
James froze, his heart rate spiking. It wasn't a kiss—not really—just an accidental contact caused by their proximity. But it sent a shock through his system that was impossible to ignore.
Victoria's eyes widened slightly, registering the contact as well. For a moment, he thought he saw something vulnerable flash across her features—confusion, perhaps, or curiosity. But it was quickly replaced by anger.
"Don't you dare try anything," she warned, though she still didn't step back. "Just because we're stuck in here doesn't mean workplace boundaries disappear."
The accusation stung. "With all due respect, Ms. Sharp, you're the one who keeps moving closer," James pointed out, his professional patience finally wearing thin. "If you're concerned about boundaries, perhaps you should be the one to step back."
"There's nowhere to step back to!" she hissed. "And stop talking—your lips keep..." She trailed off, her eyes fixed on his mouth.
"That's what I was trying to tell you," he said, the words creating another whisper of contact. "If you'd stop talking—"
"You stop talking!"
"Fine!"
They glared at each other in heated silence, neither willing to be the first to move away, both acutely aware that every breath brought them into contact. James could feel his heart hammering against his ribs and wondered if Victoria could feel it too, they were pressed so closely together.