James checked his watch—2:24 PM. In six minutes, he'd be expected in Victoria's office to discuss the departmental restructuring. After the morning's developments, he found himself unsure of where they stood. The corner office and the platinum tiepin suggested trust, even admiration. Yet Victoria's emotional distance remained impenetrable, a contradiction that left him increasingly frustrated.
He tapped his pen against the Singapore proposal he'd been reviewing, the rhythmic sound filling his spacious new office. The numbers were solid, the strategy sound with a few adjustments, but something about the rollout timeline felt off. He made a few notes in the margins, calculations that would need verification before he could confidently recommend proceeding.
The intercom on his desk beeped.
"Mr. Mitchell," Amara's voice came through, still sounding uncertain with his new title. "Ms. Sharp asked me to confirm your 2:30 meeting."
"Please tell her I'll be there," James replied, then paused. "Amara, has Ms. Sharp had her afternoon coffee yet?"
A moment of hesitation. "No, sir. She usually takes it at 3:00, after her back-to-back meetings."
"Thank you." James disconnected the call, a plan forming in his mind.
For years, he'd observed Victoria's habits with the attentiveness of someone whose professional success depended on anticipating her needs. He knew her coffee preferences with the precision of a chemist: black with exactly half a teaspoon of raw sugar, heated to exactly 165 degrees, stirred fourteen times clockwise. He'd prepared it countless times, but always as her assistant—a task beneath his new position as Chief Strategic Officer.
Yet something compelled him to make this small gesture today. Perhaps it was the need to reclaim some part of their old dynamic while they navigated this new one. Or perhaps, he admitted to himself, it was simply an excuse to break through the wall of professional distance Victoria had maintained since his promotion.
At 2:27, James entered the executive kitchen and began the familiar ritual. He selected Victoria's preferred mug—midnight blue ceramic with the company logo in silver—and prepared the coffee with practiced precision. Half a teaspoon of raw sugar. Water heated to exactly 165 degrees. Fourteen stirs clockwise, the metal spoon making a gentle sound against the ceramic.
A ritual that shouldn't feel intimate, yet somehow did.
At 2:29, he stood outside Victoria's office door, coffee in one hand, tablet and Singapore proposal in the other. He knocked lightly.
"Come in," Victoria's voice, clear and authoritative.
James entered to find her seated behind her imposing desk, attention fixed on her tablet. She didn't look up immediately, a power move he recognized from countless client meetings. Make them wait, establish dominance.
"Right on time," she said, still not looking up. "Take a seat. I'm just finishing the details for the reorganization."
Instead of sitting immediately, James approached her desk. "I thought you might want your coffee a bit early today. Back-to-back meetings can be draining."
This unexpected deviation from protocol caused Victoria to glance up, surprise briefly visible in her eyes before disappearing behind her usual composed expression. She seemed about to remind him that he was no longer responsible for such tasks, but paused when she saw the familiar blue mug.
"Thank you," she said after a moment, extending her hand to take it.
James stepped closer, his movement deliberate as he placed the mug into her waiting hand. Instead of the careful, professional handoff that had characterized hundreds of similar exchanges over the years, he intentionally allowed his fingers to brush against hers.
The effect was immediate and startling. The brief contact of skin against skin sent what felt like an electrical current through the air between them. Victoria's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, her gaze dropping to where their fingers had touched, then to his hand as he withdrew it.
For the first time in their professional relationship, Victoria Sharp's focus completely faltered.
Her eyes lingered on his hands, observing them as if seeing them for the first time. How had she never truly noticed James's hands before? They were distinctly masculine—strong, with long, elegant fingers and clean, neatly trimmed nails. Not the soft hands of someone who'd spent his life behind a desk, but capable hands with subtle calluses that hinted at a life outside the office walls. The slight roughness she'd felt in that momentary touch was unexpected, intriguing.
Those hands had prepared countless briefings for her, had drafted proposals that won million-dollar clients, had delivered her coffee at precisely the right temperature for years. Yet she'd never really seen them—never noticed how the veins traced subtle patterns beneath his skin, how his fingers were both powerful and graceful, how they tapered to sensitive tips that had just brushed against hers with deliberate intent.
A strange heat rose from her hand where they'd touched, spreading up her arm with alarming speed. Victoria found herself wondering, in a thought so uncharacteristic it almost startled her, what those hands would feel like elsewhere—cupping her face, perhaps, or traveling slowly down the curve of her spine.
For three full seconds—an eternity by Victoria Sharp standards—she said nothing, did nothing, simply stared at his hands holding the tablet and proposal.
James stood perfectly still, sensing the shift in atmosphere. He'd expected to unbalance her slightly, but the intensity of Victoria's reaction caught him off guard. The air between them seemed to crackle with an energy he couldn't name.
Victoria blinked twice, rapidly, as if clearing her vision. The moment shattered. Her spine straightened, her expression smoothed into professional neutrality, and her CEO mask slipped perfectly back into place. The only evidence of her momentary lapse was a slight tightening of her grip on the coffee mug and the faintest pink tinge coloring her cheekbones.
"Sit down, James," she said, her voice slightly lower than usual. "We have the departmental restructuring to discuss, and I'd like your thoughts on the changes to the Singapore proposal timeline."
James took the seat across from her desk, noting the deliberate shift back to business matters. "Of course. I've been reviewing the numbers this morning." He placed the proposal on her desk, sliding it toward her without allowing their fingers to touch again.
Victoria took a sip of the coffee, unable to completely suppress the small sound of appreciation at the perfect temperature and preparation. "Your analysis from this morning's meeting was spot on," she said, redirecting the conversation firmly back to professional ground. "We do need more specificity in their market penetration strategy before moving forward."
As they settled into discussion about the Singapore project, James observed the careful distance Victoria maintained. The wall was back up—perhaps even higher than before—though he couldn't forget what he'd glimpsed in her eyes during those three seconds of unguarded reaction.