James stood before his bedroom mirror, running his fingers through damp hair as evening light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his downtown loft. The Petrov anniversary celebration loomed ahead, an event he'd been anticipating with unusual intensity, though he knew exactly why.
Tonight was about Victoria. Everything was about Victoria.
He'd already spent longer than usual in the shower, longer than necessary choosing his cologne, something subtle but distinctive that would linger without overwhelming. Now came the decision that had been weighing on his mind all day: his appearance.
For months, James had maintained the same polished look, hair slicked back with precision, every strand controlled and professional. It was a style he'd adopted after Victoria had complimented it during his early days as her assistant, mentioning how it made him look "distinguished and capable." He'd worn it religiously ever since, even after his promotion, clinging to that moment of approval like a talisman.
Tonight, he wanted something different. Something that would make her see him not as the reliable assistant he'd once been, but as the man he'd become.
Abandoning his usual pomade, James worked his fingers through his hair, creating a natural part down the middle and allowing the dark strands to fall in a softer curtain across his forehead. The change was subtle but transformative, revealing angles of his face that had been hidden for months.
As he adjusted the final pieces into place, his reflection revealed something that made him pause. For years, he'd carefully concealed a small, perfectly round mole beneath his right eye with a skin-tone patch, a habit born from teenage self-consciousness that had persisted into adulthood. Tonight, for reasons he couldn't fully articulate, he peeled away that familiar barrier.
The tiny mark seemed to add character to his features, creating an almost classical beauty mark that drew attention to the sharp line of his cheekbone and the intensity of his dark eyes. James studied his reflection with growing amazement. Far from being the flaw he'd always believed it to be, the mole enhanced his attractiveness in a way he'd never allowed himself to discover.
The realization filled him with an odd sense of liberation, as if he were finally allowing Victoria to see all of him instead of the carefully curated version he'd been presenting.
Moving to his wardrobe, James selected a black dress shirt from his collection, Italian cotton with a subtle texture that caught light beautifully without being ostentatious. He left the top two buttons undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone and the hollow of his throat.
The exposure felt both daring and natural, calculated to catch Victoria's attention without being inappropriate for the setting.
Over this, he added a perfectly tailored black blazer that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the lean strength of his frame. The monochromatic palette was striking without being flashy, elegant without being overly formal.
Accessories came next: a sleek watch with a black leather band, subtle cufflinks that caught the light when he moved, and a thin chain that disappeared beneath his collar just visible enough to suggest depths beneath the surface. Each piece was chosen with Victoria in mind, imagining her reaction to the carefully composed ensemble.
When James stepped back to assess the complete transformation, he felt a surge of something entirely foreign to his usual pre-event anxiety. This wasn't the professional confidence he wore like armor in business settings, this was something deeper, more authentic. The man looking back at him from the mirror was someone Victoria had never seen before, yet someone he felt more genuine being than any version he'd presented to the world.
Tonight, he would make her notice him. Really notice him.
Like a man in a mission, he would make her confess. And access her heart.
The drive to the Sterling Continental Hotel passed in a blur of anticipation. James found his hands steady on the steering wheel, his breathing calm despite the unusual intensity of his emotions. Classical music played softly through the speakers, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on Victoria with an anticipation that felt both exciting and slightly dangerous.
When he arrived at the hotel, the valet's reaction was immediate and unmistakable. The young man did a subtle double-take as James emerged from his car, his professional demeanor shifting to something approaching admiration.
"Good evening, sir," the valet said, his tone carrying a note of respect that seemed somehow deeper than usual.
James handed over his keys with a slight smile, feeling the confidence from his mirror settling around him like expensive cologne. As he walked through the lobby toward the ballroom, he became aware of a phenomenon he'd never experienced before, conversations pausing as he passed, heads turning with barely concealed curiosity and appreciation.
The transformation wasn't just in his appearance; it was in his entire presence. Where once he might have moved through social gatherings with professional competence but personal reserve, tonight James carried himself with a magnetic quality that seemed to draw attention without effort.
The ballroom itself was spectacular, transformed into something between a fairy tale and a testament to successful ambition. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across tables draped in ivory silk, while towering arrangements of white orchids and pale roses created elegant focal points throughout the space. Gold accents gleamed from every surface, and the soft music of a string quartet wove through conversations conducted in the refined tones of Seattle's elite.
James spotted the Petrovs near the entrance, greeting guests with the gracious warmth that had made them beloved figures in the city's business community. Mikhail, despite his age, stood tall and distinguished in his perfectly fitted tuxedo, while Anastasia remained radiant, her silver hair styled in an elegant chignon that complemented her deep emerald gown.
As James approached, he felt the full weight of his transformation crystallizing into something almost electric. Other guests seemed to notice his passage through the room, conversations slowing, glances lingering, an almost palpable shift in the atmosphere that followed in his wake.
"James!" Mikhail's voice boomed with genuine pleasure, but as his eyes took in the younger man's appearance, his expression shifted to one of surprise and admiration. "My boy, you look..." The older man paused, clearly struggling to find adequate words. "Absolutely magnificent. That style suits you perfectly."
Anastasia's reaction was even more pronounced. Her eyes widened as she took in his transformation, her gaze lingering on the small mole beneath his eye with obvious appreciation. "James, darling," she said, her Russian accent lending a musical quality to her words, "you look absolutely stunning. That hairstyle is so sophisticated, and that little beauty mark, how have I never noticed it before? It gives you such character, such... presence."
The direct praise sent heat flooding through James's chest and up his neck, his ears beginning to burn with uncharacteristic shyness. Despite the confidence he'd felt while preparing, receiving such effusive compliments caught him completely off-guard.