In the conference room, Winters declined James's offer of refreshments and instead wandered to the window, taking in the city view. "Tell me, James, how long have you been Victoria's assistant?"
"Almost three years."
Winters turned, seeming genuinely impressed. "That's something of a record, isn't it? Victoria's standards are... exacting."
"I find her expectations reasonable," James replied diplomatically.
"Do you?" Winters studied him with newfound interest. "Most people find working for Victoria akin to voluntarily placing one's hand in a meat grinder. Painful, bloody, and ultimately diminishing."
James felt a flare of protectiveness. "Those people aren't up to the challenge."
"And you are?" Winters smiled, but his eyes were evaluating. "Interesting. What exactly keeps you here, enduring the legendary Sharp temper and impossible demands?"
Before James could formulate a response, Victoria's voice cut through the air. "Perhaps he appreciates working for the best, Chad. Not everyone settles for mediocrity."
She stood in the doorway, a vision in a crimson dress that hugged her curves and made her look both powerful and decidedly feminine. It was a calculated choice, James knew—Victoria dressed strategically for every meeting, and this outfit was designed to remind Winters he was dealing with a force to be reckoned with.
"Victoria." Winters crossed the room and kissed her cheek, a gesture that seemed to surprise her. "Radiant as ever. That color is particularly striking on you."
Victoria recovered quickly, her smile professional but cool. "Flattery already? You must want this partnership more than I thought."
Winters laughed. "Just stating facts. But yes, I think this collaboration could be... beneficial for both of us."
The tension in the room shifted subtly, charged with something James couldn't quite define. Victoria gestured toward the conference table. "Shall we begin? Or would you prefer to wait for your CSO?"
"Melissa sends her apologies. A family emergency kept her in New York." Winters took a seat across from Victoria. "But don't worry, I'm fully authorized to discuss all aspects of the potential partnership."
Victoria's expression didn't change, but James could tell she was recalculating. She'd wanted this to be a four-person meeting—harder for Winters to control the narrative with multiple perspectives in the room.
"James will stay then," she said smoothly. "For balance."
Winters glanced at James with renewed interest. "Of course. I'd be disappointed if he didn't."
The meeting proceeded with both Victoria and Winters circling each other like elegant predators, neither willing to show their full hand. James took detailed notes, fascinated by the dynamic. Where Victoria was precise and methodical, Winters was charming and seemingly spontaneous, though James suspected every apparent impulse was actually carefully planned.
By four o'clock, they'd outlined the basics of a potential joint venture to pursue the Anderson Group, a massive international conglomerate that could transform both their companies. The details were promising enough that Victoria agreed to continue the discussion over dinner.
As Winters was leaving, he paused by James's desk. "You're quite good at this, you know. Anticipating her needs, managing the flow of information."
"Thank you," James said, unsure where this was going.
"Have you ever considered that your talents might be underutilized as an assistant?" Winters leaned against the desk casually. "Even one to Victoria Sharp."
James felt a prickle of awareness. "I'm happy with my position."
"Are you?" Winters's gaze was penetrating. "Or have you just convinced yourself that you are? There's a difference."
"Chad," Victoria called from her office doorway. "Did you forget something?"
Winters straightened, his easy smile returning. "Just complimenting you on your excellent taste in personnel." He turned back to James. "Think about what I said. And perhaps we could grab a drink sometime? I'd be interested to hear more about your background."
Victoria's expression darkened almost imperceptibly. "James is quite busy managing my schedule. Aren't you, James?"
"Generally, yes," James replied carefully.
"I'm sure he could find an hour," Winters said, his tone light but insistent. "Everyone needs a break now and then."
The two executives stared at each other, some unspoken challenge passing between them. Finally, Victoria said, "James makes his own decisions about his free time."
"Wonderful." Winters handed James a business card. "My personal number is on the back. Call me when you're free. No pressure, just a friendly drink."
After Winters left, Victoria remained by her doorway, her expression unreadable. Finally, she said, "He's trying to poach you."
James pocketed the card. "I noticed."
"Winters has always coveted what's mine." She studied her reflection in the glass wall, adjusting her hair with practiced precision. "First the Templeton account, now my assistant."
"I'm not planning to jump ship."
Victoria's eyes met his in the reflection. "Good. Because Chad Winters is not what he appears to be. That charm hides a ruthless streak that would make me look positively warm and fuzzy by comparison."
James couldn't help but smile at the comparison. "I'll keep that in mind."
Victoria turned to face him directly. "He'll offer you more money. A fancier title. Probably a corner office with a view."
"Are you worried?"
Something flashed in her eyes—uncertainty, perhaps, though it was gone so quickly James might have imagined it. "Don't be absurd. You're an employee, not indentured servitude. If Winters makes you a better offer, you'd be foolish not to consider it."
Her tone was dismissive, but James had worked with her long enough to recognize the tension beneath. "But you'd prefer I didn't."
Victoria smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her dress. "I'd prefer not to train someone new. It's inefficient."
"Of course. Efficiency."
She narrowed her eyes at his tone. "What exactly are you implying?"
"Nothing at all," James said innocently. "Just agreeing that training a new assistant would be time-consuming."
Victoria studied him for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "The Barrington reservation is at eight. Wear your navy suit—the one with the subtle pinstripe. It gives you an extra inch of height."
The casual comment about his stature was so typical that James almost missed the fact that she'd noticed which suit made him look taller. "I'll pick you up at seven-thirty?"
"No, I have a salon appointment after work. I'll meet you there." She turned to go back into her office, then paused. "And James? When Winters inevitably tries to extract company information from you tonight, remember where your loyalties lie."
"I know exactly where my loyalties lie," James replied evenly.
Victoria gave him a long look, then nodded once and disappeared into her office.
James sat at his desk, turning Winters's business card over in his hands. The man was undeniably charismatic, and the hint of a job offer was tempting in an abstract way. Working for someone who actually appreciated his skills, who didn't constantly belittle him or take his dedication for granted—it had its appeal.
And yet.
The thought of leaving Victoria, of not seeing her every day, created a hollow feeling in his chest that no corner office or salary bump could fill. It was pathetic, really, how thoroughly she'd ensnared him despite her treatment. Or perhaps because of it—the occasional glimpses of approval were all the more intoxicating for their rarity.
His phone buzzed with a text from Marcus: "Saw Winters leaving. Still alive?"
James typed back: "For now. Having dinner with him and Victoria tonight though. Might not survive that."