They returned to work, the strange intimacy of sharing a late meal fading back into their usual professional dynamic. By eleven-thirty, the presentation was complete, and far better than what the creative team had originally produced.
"Send it to my phone," Victoria instructed, gathering her things. "I'll review it again before the morning meeting."
"You realize this makes you responsible if they hate it," James pointed out.
Victoria arched an eyebrow. "They won't hate it. It's excellent. And if they do, I'll make it clear that their original concept was even worse." She slipped her phone into her bag. "Besides, no one questions my decisions. It's one of the perks of being me."
The casual arrogance should have annoyed him, but there was something almost endearing about her absolute confidence. Or maybe he was just too tired to maintain his usual defenses against her peculiar charm.
"Do you need me to call you a car?" he asked, shutting down his computer.
Victoria checked her reflection in the dark window one last time, adjusting a strand of hair with practiced precision. "Already done. It should still be awaiting my return downstairs now." She hesitated, then added, "You should go home too, James. It's late."
"I will. Just need to send a few emails first."
She studied him for a moment, as if trying to solve a particularly complex equation. "You work too hard."
"I learned from the best."
Victoria smiled, a genuine smile that transformed her face and made James's heart do that irritating little flip it always did when she looked at him like that. "Good night, James."
"Good night, Ms. Sharp."
She wrinkled her nose slightly. "After hours, when it's just us, you could call me Victoria, you know."
Before he could respond, she turned and walked away, the sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor gradually fading until the office was silent once more.
James sat back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. These were the moments that confused him most—when Victoria showed glimpses of humanity, of warmth even. When she seemed to see him as something more than just an efficient assistant to be commanded and occasionally berated.
He gathered the remnants of their impromptu dinner, tossing containers into the recycling bin. As he did, he noticed Victoria had left a small item on the conference table—her lip balm, the expensive French brand she applied religiously throughout the day.
James picked it up, turning the small gold tube over in his palm. He could return it to her tomorrow, of course. But knowing Victoria's obsessive attention to her appearance, she might want it tonight.
Before he could overthink it, he texted her: "You left your lip balm on the conference table. Do you need me to bring it down?"
Her response came almost immediately: "If you wouldn't mind. Car's still here."
Five minutes later, James stepped out of the building's main entrance into the cool night air. Victoria's town car idled at the curb, its sleek black exterior gleaming under the streetlights. The driver opened the back door as James approached.
Victoria sat in the shadows of the backseat, her face illuminated by the blue glow of her phone screen. She looked up as James extended his hand with the lip balm.
"My savior," she said, accepting it with a small smile. "My lips would have been positively chapped by morning."
"We can't have that. There'd be a company-wide crisis."
Victoria laughed softly, the sound so unexpected and genuine that James found himself momentarily speechless. "Get in for a moment," she said, sliding over to make room. "I just received an email from Evans. He's proposing terms for the investment."
James hesitated, then climbed into the backseat beside her. The car smelled of leather and Victoria's perfume, an intoxicating combination.
She handed him her phone. "What do you think?"
James read through the email, surprised that she was asking for his opinion on something this significant. "The terms are generous, but that clause about board representation is problematic."
"My thoughts exactly." Victoria took the phone back, her fingers brushing against his. "I'll counter tomorrow. Suggest a non-voting observer role instead."
"Good idea."
They sat in silence for a moment, the intimacy of the car's interior making James acutely aware of how close they were sitting. Victoria seemed to feel it too, because she shifted slightly, creating a few more inches of space between them.
"Thank you for bringing this down," she said, holding up the lip balm. "And for staying late to fix the presentation." She paused, then added, "I know I'm demanding."
It was as close to an apology as Victoria Sharp ever came.
"You expect excellence," James replied. "There's nothing wrong with that."
Victoria studied him in the dim light, her expression unreadable. "Most people would have quit by now."
"Most people aren't up to the challenge."
The corner of her mouth quirked upward. "And you are?"
"I'm still here, aren't I?"
For a moment, something passed between them—an acknowledgment of the strange, complex dynamic they shared. Then Victoria cleared her throat and glanced toward the front of the car.
"You should go home and get some rest. Tomorrow will be another demanding day."
James nodded and opened the door. "Good night, Victoria."
The name felt strange on his lips, intimate in a way that their professional relationship wasn't supposed to be. Victoria seemed to notice it too, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she composed herself.
"Good night, James."
As the car pulled away from the curb, James watched its taillights disappear into the night traffic. He took a deep breath of the cool air, feeling the tension of the day finally begin to ebb away.
It was moments like these—rare glimpses of the real Victoria beneath the polished exterior—that kept him coming back, that made him endure the impossible standards and cutting remarks. Those brief instances when she let her guard down just enough to reveal that she saw him, really saw him, not just as an assistant but as a person worthy of her respect.
And God help him, but those moments made all the rest worth it.
As he turned to hail a cab, his phone buzzed with a text. From Victoria: "The presentation really is excellent. You've outdone yourself."
James smiled to himself as he climbed into the taxi. Tomorrow, Victoria would undoubtedly be back to her demanding, critical self. The warmth of tonight would be forgotten, replaced by her usual cold perfectionism.
But for now, for this brief moment between days, he would allow himself to enjoy the simple pleasure of her approval.