The storm that had trapped Victoria and James in the abandoned amusement park had passed, but the tension it created lingered like an unwelcome guest. James had spent his entire nights replaying those moments in the maintenance room—the closeness, the unexpected kiss, the vulnerability he'd glimpsed in Victoria's usually impenetrable armor. The unexpected kiss… And her swift retreat back to coldness the moment they were free.
James set Victoria's morning coffee on her desk precisely at 7:15 AM, the way she liked it—black with exactly half a teaspoon of sugar stirred exactly fourteen times. Not thirteen. Not fifteen. Heated to precisely 165 degrees. Today marked the second consecutive day she'd arrived before him, despite his deliberate effort to be early. The circles under her eyes suggested she hadn't gone home at all.
"The Henderson account files?" Victoria asked without looking up, her voice clipped and professional. No "good morning," no acknowledgment of his punctuality with the coffee, and certainly no mention of the amusement park.
"Already uploaded to the shared drive and printed copies are in the blue folder," James replied, maintaining the careful neutrality he'd perfected over his tenure as her executive assistant.
"The quarterly projections?"
"Updated with the latest figures. The revised analysis is on page four."
"And the Matthews presentation?"
"Scheduled for 2 PM. Conference Room A is booked, and I've sent reminder emails to all attendees."
Victoria finally looked up, her gaze sharp enough to cut glass. If anything, she seemed more severe than before the theme park incident. Her makeup was flawless, her suit impeccably pressed, her posture rigid. It was as if she were overcorrecting, building her walls twice as high to compensate for the moment of impulse.
"The presentation deck needs to be completely redone," she announced, sliding her tablet across the desk to him. "The color scheme doesn't match our updated brand guidelines, the font is two points too small on slides seven through fifteen, and the graphics look like they were created by a first-year design student with a hangover."
James felt his jaw tighten. He'd spent hours on that deck, following the exact specifications she'd provided. "I followed the template from the marketing department," he said carefully. "The one you approved last month."
"Well, it's not good enough now," Victoria snapped. "We need to stand out. This is bland. Mediocre. Is that what you strive for, James? Mediocrity?"
And there it was. James fought to control his frustration. This was Victoria's way of reestablishing dominance, of proving to herself—and to him—that nothing had changed. That the vulnerability she'd shown in that maintenance room had been an aberration, a momentary lapse in judgment brought on by unusual circumstances.
"I'll revise it immediately," he said, keeping his voice level despite the heat rising in his chest.
"And the Wang contract needs to be reviewed by end of day. Also, cancel my lunch. I don't have time." She waved him away dismissively, already returning her attention to her computer screen.
James retreated to his desk, the day stretching before him like an obstacle course designed explicitly for his failure. He pulled up the presentation and stared at it, the color scheme swimming before his eyes. Every fiber of his being knew there was nothing wrong with this deck. This was Victoria's way of making him pay for seeing her human side.
By noon, James had reworked the entire presentation, choosing a slightly more vibrant color palette and increasing the font size by exactly two points. His stomach growled, reminding him that he'd skipped breakfast in his rush to arrive early. Not that it had mattered.
As he was emailing the revised deck to Victoria, Chad Winters strolled past his desk, pausing to lean against the edge with a sympathetic smile.
"Rough morning?" Chad asked, his perfectly tailored suit somehow remaining unwrinkled despite his casual pose.
James shrugged noncommittally. Office politics demanded discretion, and Chad, for all his friendly overtures, was still Victoria's competitor within the company hierarchy.
"She's been on the warpath since yesterday," Chad continued, lowering his voice. "Word is she had a coincidental meet with Elena Vasquez, let's say her mood turned for the worst. Not that it excuses treating people like disposable resources."
"I wouldn't know about her personal matters," James lied smoothly though he felt a jolt of surprise. Elena Vasquez, formerly Victoria's closest friend and confidante, and heiress to Meridian Technologies—Sharp Innovations' most aggressive competitor. The two women had had a falling out so dramatic it had become company legend, though the details remained murky. All anyone knew was that Elena suddenly hated Victoria.
Chad's eyebrow rose slightly. "Right. Well, my offer still stands. My managing director is transferring to our London office next month. The position would be yours if you wanted it. Fewer hours, better pay, and I promise not to make you redo presentations that are already perfect."
The temptation flashed through James like lightning—quick, bright, and dangerously illuminating. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine a world where his boss didn't swing between arctic coldness and explosive criticism, where his talents were appreciated rather than taken for granted.
"I'll keep that in mind," James replied neutrally.
"Do that," Chad said with a knowing smile before continuing down the hallway.
James's phone buzzed with an email notification. Victoria had sent back the presentation with a one-line response: "Still not right. Fix it."
No specifics. No guidance. Just another impossible standard to meet through trial and error.
The afternoon unspooled in a series of increasingly unreasonable demands. By the time 6 PM arrived, James had revised the presentation four times, each version met with the same cryptic dissatisfaction. He'd also reviewed the Wang contract, rescheduled three meetings to accommodate Victoria's suddenly "packed" schedule, and fielded calls from clients who sensed her distraction and sought reassurance.
Most of the office had emptied when Victoria emerged from her office, her bag slung over her shoulder. She paused at James's desk, where he was still working on the fifth iteration of the presentation.
"I need you to come in early tomorrow," she said. "The board wants updated projections for the Sullivan account."
Something inside James snapped. Not loudly, not violently, but decisively—like a rubber band stretched past its capacity.
"No," he said quietly.
Victoria blinked, as if she couldn't process the single syllable. "Excuse me?"
"I said no." James's voice remained calm, though his pulse thundered in his ears. "I've been here since 7:00 this morning. I've revised this presentation four times without any specific feedback on what needs changing. I've handled the Wang contract, placated the Matthews team when you canceled the presentation without explanation, and managed your schedule while you've been..."
He hesitated, then said it anyway. "While you've been punishing me."
Victoria's expression hardened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." James stood, suddenly needing to be eye-level with her. "You're embarrassed that I saw you act impulsively. You're embarrassed that I saw you being careless, that I was trapped with you in the closet. You're embarrassed about the things you did to me that I saw you in a completely different light instead of the untouchable CEO, so you're overcompensating by being even more demanding and unreasonable than usual."
He expected anger, expected to be fired on the spot. Instead, Victoria's face went carefully blank, a stillness settling over her features that was somehow more unsettling than rage.