The office had emptied hours ago. Even the cleaning staff had completed their rounds and departed, leaving only the low hum of the HVAC system and the soft blue glow of James's computer screen to fill the silence. It was nearly ten o'clock, and he was still fixing the presentation that Victoria had so thoroughly eviscerated during the creative team's meeting that afternoon.
"This is uninspired," she had announced barely three slides in, her voice carrying that particular tone of boredom that made everyone in the room shift uncomfortably. "It's like you've never even met our clients."
Poor Marcus had tried to explain the reasoning behind the concept, but Victoria had simply held up one perfectly manicured hand. "If you have to explain it, it's already failed. Start over." Then she'd stood, smoothed her dress, and walked out, pausing only to say, "James, fix this disaster by tomorrow morning."
And so here he was, reconstructing an entire campaign presentation that had taken the creative team weeks to develop. He loosened his tie and rubbed his eyes, wondering for the thousandth time why he continued to subject himself to this particular form of professional torture.
His phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: "Still alive over there?"
James typed back: "Barely. How many bottles of wine have you gone through since the meeting?"
The reply came quickly: "On my second. Seriously though, don't stay up all night for her. It's not worth it."
But James knew he would anyway. He always did.
He was deep in the process of reworking the fifth slide when the security door beeped. He froze, listening to the sharp, distinctive click of heels against marble. Only one person wore those particular shoes in this office. The sound grew louder, and then Victoria appeared in the doorway.
She'd changed clothes since the afternoon, now wearing a sleek black dress that James recognized as her "dinner with important people" outfit. Her makeup was still flawless, though her lipstick had been refreshed to a deeper shade of red.
"You're still here," she said, sounding genuinely surprised.
James gestured at his computer. "The presentation isn't going to fix itself."
Victoria placed her designer handbag on the edge of his desk and peered at his screen. She smelled of her signature perfume mixed with something else—expensive wine and the faintest trace of cigar smoke. James guessed she'd been dining with one of the older board members who still indulged in that particular vice.
"The Henderson dinner went well, I take it?" he asked, trying not to notice how the light from his monitor highlighted the elegant line of her neck.
"Hmm?" Victoria was focused on his screen.
"Oh, yes. We closed the deal." She said it casually, as if acquiring a seven-million-dollar client was an everyday occurrence. "The font is wrong on this slide."
James bit back a sigh. "It's the same font you approved this morning."
"For the financial presentation, yes. This is creative. It needs to have more personality." She leaned closer, her shoulder nearly touching his. "Use Avenir for the headlines."
"Avenir. Right." James made the change, hyper-aware of her proximity.
"Much better," she murmured, then straightened and walked to the window, gazing out at the city lights. Her reflection was clearly visible against the dark glass, and she took a moment to adjust her hair, tilting her head slightly to examine her profile.
James saved his work and asked, "Did you forget something? It's not like you to return to the office after a dinner meeting."
Victoria turned, the city lights now backlighting her silhouette. "The dinner ended earlier than expected. Henderson's wife called—some family emergency." She walked back toward his desk, trailing her fingers along the surface. "Besides, I knew you'd still be here."
"Did you?" James kept his expression neutral, refusing to read anything into her statement.
"You're nothing if not predictable, James."
She perched on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs at the ankle. Her shoes caught the light, the red soles gleaming.
"Always going above and beyond. Always trying to impress me."
"I'm just doing my job."
Victoria's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Is that all it is?"
The question hung in the air between them, loaded with implications that James had no intention of addressing. He turned back to his computer, clicking through to the next slide.
"What would you prefer for the background color scheme? The blue from this morning or something warmer?"
Victoria allowed the change of subject, her expression suggesting she'd gotten exactly the reaction she'd wanted. "The blue is too corporate. Try a deep aubergine."
James made the change, watching as Victoria leaned in again to view the results. She nodded, apparently satisfied, then surprised him by asking, "Have you eaten?"
"What?"
"Food, James. Have you consumed any since lunch?"
He tried to remember. "I had a protein bar around four."
Victoria rolled her eyes. "That's not food." She retrieved her phone from her bag and tapped at the screen. "I'm ordering from that Thai place you like. The one with the ridiculous name."
"Thai Something," James supplied, momentarily thrown by this unexpected consideration.
"That's it." She finished placing the order, then set her phone down. "Twenty minutes. In the meantime, fix the header on slide seven. The kerning is atrocious."
And just like that, they were back to work. Victoria pulled up a chair beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her arm near his, and began critiquing each element of the presentation with clinical precision. Unlike her usual dismissive feedback, however, her suggestions were actually constructive.
"This image isn't working," she'd say, and then explain exactly why, offering alternatives that James had to admit were better than the originals.
By the time the food arrived, delivered by a bewildered security guard who clearly hadn't expected to find the CEO and her assistant working past ten at night, they'd completely restructured the presentation.
Victoria unpacked the food containers on the small conference table in the corner of the office, gesturing for James to join her. "Bring your laptop. We'll eat while we finish the last few slides."
James complied, bringing over his computer and settling into a chair opposite her. Victoria opened containers, the scent of lemongrass and ginger filling the air.
"Did you order enough for an army?" James asked, surveying the spread.
"I wasn't sure what you'd want, and I was hungry." She handed him a pair of chopsticks. "The pad Thai is yours. I remember you ordering it at that lunch with the Peterson account."
The fact that she'd noticed, let alone remembered, such a trivial detail caught James off guard. "Thank you," he said, accepting the container she pushed toward him.
Victoria arranged her food precisely in front of her, then dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin before taking a single bite. Even eating takeout after hours, she maintained an air of polished perfection.
"The presentation is much improved," she said after a few moments of silence. "The creative team should thank you."
"They should thank you," James corrected. "Most of the changes were your ideas."
Victoria waved her chopsticks dismissively. "I simply pointed out the obvious flaws. You're the one making it work." She took a sip of water. "That's your particular talent, isn't it? Making things work despite the inherent flaws."
"Is that a compliment or an insult?"
A ghost of a smile played at her lips. "Can't it be both?"
James found himself smiling back despite himself. These moments were rare—when Victoria dropped her imperious facade just enough to reveal the actual human being beneath. It was these glimpses that kept him holding on, kept him believing there was more to her than the cold, demanding boss she presented to the world.
"Tell me about the Henderson dinner," he said, partly because he was genuinely interested and partly because he wanted to extend this unusual moment of camaraderie.
Victoria speared a piece of chicken with surprising precision. "Harrison was his usual tedious self. All golf stories and thinly veiled comments about my 'impressive rise' in a male-dominated industry." She rolled her eyes. "As if I haven't heard that exact line from every man over fifty in this business."
"How did you respond?"
"I smiled, thanked him for his insight, and then systematically dismantled his proposed contract terms until he agreed to a thirty percent better deal than we'd initially discussed." Her expression was coolly satisfied, like a cat that had successfully cornered its prey. "He never saw it coming."
"Impressive," James said sincerely.
Victoria looked pleased by the compliment, though she tried to hide it. "Well, that's why they pay me the obscene salary." She set down her chopsticks and stretched slightly, her movements graceful and deliberate. "Now, back to the presentation. Show me what you've done with the final slides."