"My office," she said after a long moment, turning on her heel without waiting for a response.
James followed her, closing the door behind him. Victoria moved to the window, her back to him as she gazed out at the city lights beginning to sparkle in the dusk.
"I thought we agreed not to bring that up," she said finally, her voice so quiet he had to strain to hear it.
James remained silent, sensing she hadn't finished.
"For once I wanted to rebel." Victoria turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "I was drunk on the success of the closed deal, yes. I wanted a different space far from all these."
She gestured around her office, the realm where she reigned supreme and in control.
"And yes," she continued, "I was mortified that you saw me like that. Being carefree doesn't inspire confidence in leadership."
"Being human doesn't make you a weak leader," James countered. "It makes you relatable."
Victoria's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Is that what they teach in management courses now? Because my experience suggests otherwise. Show weakness, and the vultures start circling." She paced to her desk, straightening a pen that was already perfectly aligned. "I saw Chad talking to you today. Let me guess—he offered you a position again?"
James hesitated, then nodded.
"Of course he did." Victoria's smile was tight. "He's been trying to undermine me for months. Taking my assistant would be quite the coup."
"I didn't accept," James pointed out.
"Yet." Victoria's gaze was piercing. "But you will if I continue to be, what was your phrase? 'Even more demanding and unreasonable than usual'?"
The directness of the question caught James off guard. He considered deflecting but decided honesty was the only path forward from this impasse.
"I already said I don't want to leave," he said carefully. "I believe in the work we do here. I respect your vision and your drive. But yes, if this is what working with you is going to be like going forward, I'll have to consider other options."
Victoria sat down in her chair, suddenly looking exhausted. The perfect posture, the immaculate appearance—it all seemed like an elaborate costume designed to conceal the very human exhaustion underneath.
"I'm not good at this," she admitted after a long silence.
"At what?"
"At... balancing. At being both a leader and... Whatever I was at that park." She gestured vaguely. "That person who behaves wild."
"You don't have to be one or the other," James said. "Most people contain multitudes."
A ghost of a smile crossed Victoria's face. "Quoting Whitman to your boss? Bold move."
"I'm apparently feeling bold today."
The silence that followed wasn't comfortable, exactly, but it held less tension than before. Victoria drummed her fingers on her desk, appearing to consider something carefully.
"I need an executive assistant I can trust," she said finally. "Someone who can anticipate my needs, maintain discretion, and execute tasks flawlessly."
"I do all of those things," James pointed out.
"Yes, you do." Victoria's admission seemed to cost her something. "But I also need someone who will tell me when I'm being... unreasonable. Someone who won't let me sabotage myself or this company because I'm..." She hesitated. "Because of reckless impulse."
The confession hung in the air between them, fragile and unexpected.
"I can do that too," James said quietly. "But not if you shut me out or punish me for seeing the parts of yourself you're trying to hide."
Victoria nodded slowly, a decision crystallizing in her expression. "I propose an agreement," she said, her business tone returning though less severely than before. "You continue to perform at the exceptional level I've come to expect. You maintain absolute discretion about anything personal you might observe or learn. And in return..."
She paused, visibly struggling with the next part.
"In return, I will attempt to provide clearer feedback. I will try not to... overcompensate when I feel exposed. And I will listen if you tell me I'm being unreasonable—though I reserve the right to disagree."
It wasn't a perfect solution. It wasn't even particularly warm. But from Victoria Sharp, this constituted a seismic shift.
"Do we have a deal?" she asked, extending her hand across the desk.
James considered the offered hand, the tentative olive branch it represented. This was Victoria attempting compromise in the only way she knew how—through formal agreements and professional boundaries. It wasn't friendship. It certainly wasn't the acknowledgment of the more complicated feelings he caught himself harboring for her. But it was something—a recognition of his value, a small step toward a more honest working relationship.
He took her hand, noting the firm and softness of her grip. "We have a deal."
Victoria nodded once, then released his hand. "Good. Now, about that presentation—"
"The blue in the original deck was better," James interjected, testing the boundaries of their new agreement immediately. "It aligned with the subtler brand messaging we've been developing for the Matthews account. The brighter colors you've been pushing for would work for a younger client, but Matthews appreciates understated elegance."
Victoria stared at him for a long moment, and James wondered if he'd overplayed his hand. Then, remarkably, she sighed.
"Show me the original again."
James pulled up the first version on her monitor. Victoria studied it, her expression thoughtful rather than dismissive.
"You may have a point," she admitted finally. "The typography changes should stay, but we can revert to the original color palette."
The concession, small as it was, felt monumental. James nodded, resisting the urge to look too satisfied.
"I'll make those adjustments and have the final version to you by morning," he said, moving toward the door.
"James," Victoria called after him. He turned back to find her watching him with an unreadable expression. "Thank you. For being with me that day. For..." She gestured vaguely, clearly uncomfortable with explicit gratitude. "Just thank you."
"You're welcome," he replied simply, understanding that in Victoria's world, those two words had cost her more than most people's lengthy apologies.
As he closed her office door behind him, James felt the weight of the day settling into his shoulders. Their agreement was fragile at best, a tentative truce that either of them could break at any moment. Victoria Sharp was still Victoria Sharp—demanding, exacting, and emotionally guarded.
But as he gathered his things to leave, he caught himself smiling slightly. For the first time since he'd started working for her, they'd had an honest conversation. Victoria had acknowledged his value beyond his ability to anticipate her needs. It wasn't exactly warmth, but it was recognition. And for now, that was enough.
Or at least, that's what he told himself as he stepped into the elevator, determinedly ignoring the part of himself that had noticed the vulnerability in her eyes when she'd thanked him, the part that had wanted to comfort rather than negotiate, the part that was caring for Victoria Sharp far beyond the bounds of professional propriety.
Some agreements, after all, were never spoken aloud.