James Mitchell arrived at Sharp Innovations at precisely 6:45 AM, as he did every Monday.
The security guard nodded at him with a mixture of respect and pity as he swiped his badge.
"Early as always, Mr. Mitchell," the guard said.
"Morning, Frank. And it's still just James." He offered a tight smile. "Is anyone else in yet?"
"Just you and the cleaning crew. Though Ms. Sharp's light was on when I came in at six."
James felt his stomach tighten. "She stayed all night?"
Frank shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time. Though I gotta say, she looked fresh as a daisy when she came down for her morning run. Don't know how she does it."
"Good genes and better cosmetics," James muttered under his breath.
The elevator ride to the executive floor gave James exactly forty-seven seconds to mentally prepare himself. Victoria Sharp, CEO of Sharp Innovations, brilliant marketing strategist, and the most infuriating woman he'd ever met, required nothing less than perfection. And on Mondays, she required caffeinated perfection.
The office was quiet as he made his way to his desk, situated in the antechamber outside Victoria's office. Her door was closed, but light spilled from underneath it. James placed his bag down and immediately went to the executive kitchen to prepare her coffee—black with exactly half a teaspoon of raw sugar, heated to precisely 165 degrees. Not 160, not 170. He'd learned that lesson the hard way three months into the job when she'd taken a sip, frowned, and poured it into his potted plant while maintaining eye contact.
As the coffee brewed, he pulled out his phone and reviewed her schedule for the day. Board meeting at 9:00, strategy session at 11:00, lunch with the Nakamura team at 1:00, followed by back-to-back meetings until 6:00 PM. He'd need to find fifteen minutes somewhere for her to review the Henderson proposal before tomorrow morning.
"You're here early."
James nearly dropped the mug. Victoria stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable. Despite clearly having spent the night at the office, she looked immaculate in a charcoal pencil skirt and white silk blouse, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun that emphasized her sharp cheekbones. Only the faintest shadows under her eyes hinted at her all-nighter.
"Good morning, Ms. Sharp," he replied, steadying his voice. "I saw the quarterly report needed some adjustments."
"Did I ask for adjustments?" She raised an eyebrow, taking the coffee from him without acknowledgment. She leaned against the counter, somehow making the simple kitchen look like a backdrop for a fashion shoot. Even after an all-nighter, Victoria managed to look like she'd stepped off a magazine cover.
"No, but the Henderson numbers were off by point-three percent."
She took a sip of the coffee, her eyes never leaving his face. "Point-four, actually. I corrected them at three this morning."
Of course she had. James felt a familiar mixture of irritation and admiration. "I also prepared briefing notes for your board meeting. They're on your desk along with the revised marketing plan."
Victoria took another sip, then nodded almost imperceptibly. In Victoria-speak, this was effusive praise.
"The Nakamura team confirmed lunch, but Mr. Nakamura mentioned bringing his nephew who's studying marketing at Columbia."
Victoria's expression darkened. "Cancel it. Reschedule for Thursday."
"They're flying back to Tokyo Wednesday night."
"Then they can eat alone. I'm not turning a client meeting into a college mentorship opportunity."
James hesitated. "The nephew is apparently being groomed to take over their North American operations."
Victoria let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. But you're coming too. Order the Omakase at Mitsuharu. Make sure they have a private room." She turned to leave, then paused, giving him a quick once-over with a slightly curled lip. "And James? Wear the navy Armani. The Nakamuras appreciate proper presentation. And those shoes with the slight lift. You looked almost presentable at the Goldstein meeting."
With that casual height jab delivered, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving James caught between annoyance at being treated like a mannequin and a treacherous flicker of pleasure that she'd noticed what he wore. He glanced down at his perfectly polished oxfords—the ones without any lift whatsoever—and felt the familiar sting of her casual cruelty.
The next two hours passed in a flurry of activity. James finalized the board presentations, rescheduled three calls to accommodate the Nakamura lunch, and fielded increasingly panicked messages from the creative team whose presentation was scheduled for 11:00 AM.
At 8:50, Victoria emerged from her office.
"The board deck is insufficient," she announced without preamble. "The competitive analysis lacks depth."
James looked up, keeping his expression neutral despite the fact that he'd created the competitive analysis exactly as she'd specified. "I followed the template from the last meeting."
"The template is outdated. We need a slide breaking down Meyer Communications' new pricing strategy and how it affects our positioning."
"Meyer hasn't announced their new pricing yet."
Victoria gave him a look that questioned not just his intelligence but possibly his right to occupy space in her vicinity. "They announced it twenty minutes ago. It's on their website."
"I'll add it right away," James said, already pulling up the Meyer website. "Do you want me to delay the board members?"
"Absolutely not. Just have it ready before I get to that section." She checked her watch. "The Braxton report?"
"On your tablet, under Recent Files. I highlighted the relevant passages."
She gave another almost-imperceptible nod. "After the board meeting, I need you to call Robert Chen. Tell him I'm reconsidering his proposal but need a fifteen percent reduction."
"He explicitly said the price was firm."
The corner of Victoria's mouth quirked up in what, on anyone else, might have been a smile. "Then you'll need to be persuasive, won't you?"
James watched her walk toward the boardroom, her posture perfect, her stride confident. Several employees scrambled out of her path like startled birds. A few male executives turned to stare as she passed, which Victoria pretended not to notice while clearly basking in the attention.
He allowed himself exactly three seconds to acknowledge the absurdity of his situation: he was an excellent executive assistant with an MBA from Cornell who could have worked anywhere, yet here he was, enabling the maddening behavior of a woman who treated Machiavelli's "The Prince" as a self-improvement guide.
A woman he couldn't stop thinking about, despite his better judgment.
The realization made him scowl as he began working on the new slide. He had exactly seven minutes to create something that wouldn't earn him another condescending look from Victoria Sharp.