James woke to silence, not the comfortable quiet of a weekend morning, but the oppressive stillness of anticipation. His phone lay on the nightstand beside him, its screen dark and notification-free, mocking him with its lack of activity. He reached for it anyway, checking for the third time in ten minutes to see if Victoria had sent any messages.
Nothing.
Rolling onto his back, James stared at the ceiling and tried to convince himself that this was normal. It was barely past seven on Saturday morning, even Victoria Sharp probably didn't conduct romantic pursuits before a reasonable hour. But the rational part of his mind couldn't quite silence the anxious voice that whispered about changed minds and morning-after regrets.
She claimed you, he reminded himself, the memory of Victoria's possessive declaration sending warmth through his chest. She looked Katherine Days in the eye and marked her territory. Women like Victoria don't do that lightly.
The thought should have been reassuring, but James found himself caught between excitement and agitation as he replayed every moment of the previous evening. Victoria's transformation from controlled executive to territorial predator still seemed almost surreal in the morning light. Had it really happened, or had his three years of pent-up longing somehow colored his memory of events?
No, the slight soreness at his throat where her teeth had grazed his skin confirmed that every heated moment had been absolutely real.
James sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, running his hands through his hair as he tried to shake off the restless energy that had been building since he'd opened his eyes. He needed routine, normalcy, something to ground him while he waited for Victoria to make her next move.
The gym. His Saturday morning workout ritual would provide the structure and distraction he desperately needed.
An hour later, James found himself going through the motions of his usual routine, but his mind remained stubbornly fixed on thoughts of Victoria. Even as he moved through familiar exercises; bench press, squats, deadlifts, he couldn't shake the memory of her hands on his skin, the way her tongue had traced the line of his throat with such deliberate claim.
Victoria, Victoria, Victoria.
Her name echoed in his thoughts with every repetition, every set. James had always prided himself on his focus during workouts, on his ability to channel stress and tension into productive physical effort. But today, he felt scattered, unable to maintain the mental discipline that usually made his gym sessions so effective.
"You alright, man?"
The voice belonged to Ross, a regular who often worked out during the same Saturday morning slot. James realized he'd been standing motionless beside the squat rack for several minutes, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirrored wall.
"Yeah, sorry," James managed, shaking his head to clear it. "Just distracted."
Ross grinned knowingly. "Let me guess, woman trouble?"
The accuracy of the assessment caught James off guard, and he felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Something like that."
"Ah, the good kind of trouble then." Ross chuckled as he adjusted the weight on his barbell. "Word of advice? Whatever you're overthinking, stop. Women appreciate confidence, not anxiety."
James nodded absently, but even as he returned to his workout, he couldn't shake the underlying tension that had been building since he'd woken up. Victoria had promised to woo him, had accepted his challenge with the confidence of a woman accustomed to getting what she wanted. But the waiting...this liminal space between promise and action was proving more difficult than he'd anticipated.
You shouldn't be this anxious, he told himself as he moved to the treadmill for his cooldown run. She told you to wait. She told you she would pursue you. Trust her to follow through.
But trust, James was discovering, was easier in theory than in practice when it came to something he wanted this desperately.
As he ran, his mind wandered to practical considerations that he'd been too overwhelmed to contemplate the night before. How would they navigate their professional relationship once they became personally involved? Victoria was technically his superior, though their working relationship had always been more collaborative than hierarchical. But since it was Victoria's company, her rules applied, if she wanted a relationship with him, no one would dare object.
More importantly, how would he handle the intensity that Victoria had displayed? At twenty-seven, James had never been in a relationship, had never even dated seriously. His inexperience with women was something he'd always felt self-conscious about, especially around someone as sophisticated as Victoria. The territorial aggression, the way she'd marked him as hers with such primal certainty, it was completely foreign territory for someone who'd never navigated romantic dynamics before.
The thought sent another surge of heat through him, and James had to focus on his breathing to maintain his running pace. Whatever Victoria Sharp had in store for him, he suspected it would be unlike any normal relationship he had seen.
By the time he finished his workout and headed home, James felt marginally more centered but no less anticipatory. The physical exertion had burned off some of his restless energy, but the core tension remained that coiled spring of expectation that seemed to tighten with every passing hour.
As he rode the elevator to his floor, James found himself automatically checking his phone again, hoping for some sign that Victoria was thinking of him too. Still nothing, but he forced himself to remember that it was barely mid-morning. Even the most determined pursuit required planned timing.
Soon, he told himself as he approached his apartment door. Whatever she has planned, it will be soon.
Three doors down, Sophia Reyes sat cross-legged on her living room floor, surrounded by the detritus of her latest creative crisis. Sketches lay scattered across the hardwood, some crumpled in frustration, others torn in half, all of them failed attempts to capture something other than James's perfect profile.
For three weeks, she'd tried to follow Elise's advice about moving on, about finding someone available who might appreciate her intensity instead of being terrified by it. She'd even managed a coffee date with a colleague from the gallery, a perfectly nice photographer named David who shared her love of natural light and composition theory.