13.2: Late Night Planning

The casual admission stirred something in James's chest. Victoria Sharp with her defenses down was a rare sight indeed. He tried not to stare at the hollow of her throat where her blouse gaped slightly, at the way the overhead lights brought out auburn highlights in her dark hair.

"To answer your question more fully," he said, redirecting his thoughts, "I stayed because I believe in what we're building. And because..." He hesitated, weighing how much to reveal. "Because I find the work challenging. Satisfying."

It wasn't the whole truth. He'd stayed because he couldn't imagine not seeing her every day, because even on her worst days, Victoria Sharp was the most compelling person he'd ever met. Because somewhere along the line, his irritation and admiration had twisted into something far more complicated and inconvenient.

Victoria nodded, apparently accepting his explanation. "Well, I'm glad you stayed. This project would be considerably more difficult with someone new."

It was perhaps the closest thing to a compliment she'd ever given him. James found himself smiling despite his best efforts to remain neutral.

"Now you're the one who looks shocked," he said.

"I'm capable of acknowledging competence when I see it," Victoria replied primly, but there was a softness around her eyes that belied her formal tone.

They returned to the investor presentation after dinner, sitting side by side at the conference table as they reviewed slides on Victoria's laptop. The proximity was both torture and pleasure for James. Each time she leaned toward him to point out a detail, her shoulder brushed against his, her perfume—something expensive and subtle—intoxicating his senses. He forced himself to focus on the content, on the numbers and projections, on anything but the curve of her jaw or the elegant arch of her neck.

"This transition is awkward," Victoria murmured, frowning at slide seventeen. "We need something stronger to lead into the market expansion section."

James leaned closer to see the screen better, acutely aware of how near his face was to hers. "What if we add a brief case study here? The Williams account would be perfect—it shows exactly the kind of growth we're projecting."

Victoria turned toward him, their faces inches apart. "That could work," she said thoughtfully. "But we'd need to—"

She stopped abruptly, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made his breath catch. For one electric moment, James thought he saw something flicker in her gaze—a recognition, perhaps, of the tension humming between them. His eyes dropped involuntarily to her lips, slightly parted as if she'd forgotten what she was about to say.

Then Victoria blinked and pulled back, clearing her throat. "We'd need to anonymize the data," she continued smoothly, as if nothing had happened. "Legal would have a fit otherwise."

"Of course," James agreed, his voice rougher than he intended. He shifted in his seat, putting a few more inches between them. "I can draft something tomorrow morning."

Victoria nodded, returning her attention to the screen. But James noticed a slight tremor in her hand as she switched to the next slide, the barest hint that perhaps she wasn't as composed as she appeared.

They worked for another hour, the clock creeping past midnight. Victoria's usual razor-sharp focus began to waver, her responses becoming delayed, her posture less rigid.

"I think we should call it a night," James suggested, closing the file they'd been reviewing. "We've covered everything essential for tomorrow."

Victoria checked her watch and sighed. "I suppose you're right. The car service will take forever at this hour."

"I can get us a rideshare," James offered, already reaching for his phone.

Victoria hesitated, then nodded. "That would be acceptable. Thank you."

While she gathered her things, James sent for the car, then helped collect the scattered documents and food containers. Victoria bent to retrieve a fallen pen, her skirt tightening across her hips. James looked away quickly, busying himself with shutting down the presentation system.

"Ready?" he asked once they'd restored the room to order.

Victoria nodded, sliding her arms into her blazer. James noticed that she didn't immediately button it—another small deviation from her usual meticulous appearance. The car was waiting when they reached the lobby, and they slid into the backseat, the close quarters of the vehicle intensifying James's awareness of her presence beside him.

"Give the driver your address first," Victoria said, leaning back against the leather seat. "I'm further downtown."

"It's out of your way," James protested.

Victoria waved a dismissive hand. "It's late. I'm not dropping you in midtown at this hour."

The unexpected consideration took James by surprise. "Thank you."

Victoria merely nodded, her gaze fixed on the city passing outside the window. In the dim light of the car, with her guard lowered by exhaustion, she looked younger, less formidable. James allowed himself a moment to study her profile—the perfect slope of her nose, the fullness of her lower lip, the elegant line of her jaw. His fingers itched with the desire to trace that line, to feel the softness of her skin.

"You're staring," Victoria said without turning from the window.

Heat rushed to James's face. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Just tired."

Victoria turned then, her eyes meeting his in the shadowed interior of the car. "The next few weeks will be even more demanding," she said quietly. "If this is too much—"

"It's not," James interrupted, perhaps too quickly. "I can handle it."

Something that might have been concern flickered across Victoria's face. "You've been working fourteen-hour days."

"So have you."

"I'm used to it."

"So am I," James countered. "I've been your assistant for three years, remember? Long hours are part of the package."

Victoria studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. "Just don't burn out on me, James. This project is too important."

The car pulled up to his apartment building, a modest pre-war structure that James knew must seem quaint compared to Victoria's luxury high-rise. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, reaching for the door handle. "Nine AM for the pre-meeting brief?"

"Make it eight-thirty," Victoria replied. "I want to review any last-minute changes before the investors arrive."

James nodded and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Through the window, Victoria looked strangely vulnerable, a solitary figure in the backseat of the car. She raised a hand in a small wave as the car pulled away, a gesture so uncharacteristically casual that it made James's chest tighten with an emotion he couldn't name.

Inside his apartment, James dropped his keys on the counter and loosened his tie, his mind still replaying moments from the evening—Victoria's rare smile when he'd teased her about stealing food, the intensity in her eyes when they'd leaned close over the laptop, the subtle curve of her hip as she'd reached for her bag.

He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. This attraction was becoming unmanageable, interfering with his ability to think clearly around her. And they still had four weeks left on the project, four more weeks of late nights and close quarters and watching Victoria gradually let down her guard.

In the shower, with hot water sluicing over his tired muscles, James tried to clear his mind. But images of Victoria persisted—not just her physical allure, though that was undeniable, but the glimpses of the woman beneath the CEO persona. The Victoria who admitted to letting her defenses down, who noticed when he stared too long, who insisted on seeing him safely home.

As he toweled off and prepared for bed, his phone buzzed with a text message. Victoria's name appeared on the screen, sending an involuntary surge of adrenaline through his system.

Realized you left your notes in the car. I'll bring them tomorrow. Get some rest.

The message was purely professional, yet the fact that she'd texted him directly rather than emailing felt significant somehow. James typed a quick response:

Thanks. You should rest too.

He hesitated, then added:

Good work tonight.

Three dots appeared, indicating Victoria was typing. They disappeared, then reappeared, then disappeared again. Finally, a single message came through:

Goodnight, James.

He stared at the screen, wondering what she'd typed and deleted twice before settling on those two simple words. Had she almost said something more personal? Or was he projecting his own desires onto meaningless typing indicators?

James set his phone on the nightstand and slid into bed, exhaustion weighing his limbs. As sleep began to claim him, he tried not to think about Victoria returning home to her empty apartment, removing her carefully constructed armor piece by piece. Tried not to imagine her hair loose around her shoulders, her skin bare of makeup, her body freed from the constraining business attire.

He failed spectacularly on all counts, and his dreams, when they came, were full of Victoria Sharp—not as his boss, not as a brilliant CEO, but as a woman who looked at him the way he looked at her.