He knew exactly what she wanted—had studied her preferences like a doctoral thesis—yet still fell short, especially in the one area he could never change. Six-foot-something with a defined jaw and a lean build. That was Victoria's type, as evidenced by her string of modelesque boyfriends who inevitably bored her within weeks.

James has an athletic build. He wasn't exactly lean but had others she claimed to want: intelligence, ambition, efficiency, impeccable taste. But at five foot -nine inches, he would always be looking up at her in those damned heels she insisted on wearing.

His phone buzzed with a text from Elena in Marketing:
"How bad is her mood today? Scale of 1-10?"

James considered. Victoria was demanding and exacting as always, but she hadn't actually thrown anything or made anyone cry yet.

"Solid 6," he texted back. "Approach with caution and data."

He finished the slide with two minutes to spare and sent it to Victoria's tablet. Seconds later, his phone pinged.

"Font is inconsistent with slide 17. Fix immediately."

James stifled a groan and made the correction. No "thank you," no acknowledgment of the near-impossible task she'd set. Just another demand.
When the board meeting finally ended at 10:45, the members filed out with their usual mixture of awe and shell-shock. Victoria had that effect on people. James was waiting with a fresh coffee and the creative team's latest mock-ups.

"How'd it go?" he asked, though he knew better than to expect an actual answer.

"Predictably." She took the coffee. "Jenkins still doesn't understand basic market economics, and Latimer keeps pushing his nephew's startup as a potential acquisition."

"The AR company?"

"VR," she corrected sharply. "And it's garbage. Schedule a call with Latimer for tomorrow. I need to shut this down before he wastes more of my time."

"Already on your calendar for 3:00 PM."

For a brief moment, something that might have been approval flickered across Victoria's face. "The creative team?"

"Waiting in the conference room. They've revised the Whitman campaign."

"It better be an improvement over the disaster they showed me last week." She started walking, then turned back. "The Meyer slide was adequate. Next time, use a different visualization for the pricing tiers."

From Victoria, "adequate" was practically a standing ovation.

"I'll remember that," James said, following her to the conference room where the creative team waited like lambs for slaughter.

Marcus, the creative director, was mid-sentence with his team when Victoria entered. The room went silent immediately.

"Well?" Victoria said, settling into her chair at the head of the table. "Impress me."

Marcus glanced nervously at James, who gave him an encouraging nod. It was going to be a long day.

Four hours later, James sat across from Victoria and the Nakamura team at Mitsuharu, silently translating Victoria's blunt statements into diplomatic language while making sure the young nephew felt included. Victoria was being her usual self—brilliant, incisive, and completely unconcerned with social niceties—but the Nakamuras seemed impressed rather than offended.

Mr. Nakamura's associate, a tall, conventionally handsome man named Tanaka, was paying particular attention to Victoria, who was subtly preening under his gaze. James noted the way she kept tucking her hair behind her ear and leaning slightly forward when Tanaka spoke.

"Ms. Sharp, your approach to market segmentation is most innovative," Mr. Nakamura said as the sashimi course arrived.

Victoria nodded. "It's basic pattern recognition. Your current strategy ignores the urban millennial demographic entirely."

James jumped in. "What Ms. Sharp means is that we've identified an exciting opportunity to expand your market share."

Victoria shot him a look. "That's exactly what I said."

The nephew, Kenji, leaned forward eagerly. "My thesis research supports Ms. Sharp's assessment. The demographic data shows—"

"Data without insight is just numbers," Victoria interrupted. "What's your proposed strategy?"

For the next twenty minutes, James watched as Victoria systematically dismantled and then rebuilt the young man's marketing concepts, oscillating between brutally critical and surprisingly instructive. By the end, Kenji looked both shell-shocked and enlightened.

"Thank you for your guidance, Ms. Sharp," Kenji said with a deep bow as they prepared to leave.

Victoria handed him her business card.
"Email James your thesis. I'll review it."

James managed to keep his expression neutral, though this was the first he'd heard of this assignment. Mr. Nakamura looked positively delighted.

"Perhaps when we return next month, we could continue this discussion over dinner?"

Tanaka suggested, his eyes fixed on Victoria. At six-foot-two, he towered over both James and the Nakamuras.

Victoria's smile transformed her face, softening the sharp edges. "I'd be delighted. James can coordinate the details."

James felt a sharp pang in his chest but kept his professional smile firmly in place as he nodded. "Of course."

Once the Nakamuras had left, Victoria checked her watch. "We're running late. Cancel my 3:00 PM with Accounting."

"Roger needs to review the quarterly—"

"Roger can wait. The Whitman campaign is more important." She stood, straightening her skirt. "You handled the nephew well."

The unexpected compliment caught James off guard. "Thank you."

"Don't let it go to your head. Your tie is crooked." She reached out and adjusted it herself, standing close enough that James could smell her signature perfume. "And call Tanaka's office tomorrow. Set up that dinner for the first Friday after they return."

James nodded, trying not to show how much her casual proximity affected him. "Of course. Another business dinner?"

Victoria's lips curled into a satisfied smile as she examined her reflection in a nearby window, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not entirely. Did you see his watch? Patek Philippe. And he must be what, six-two? Six-three?" She turned back to James.

"It's refreshing to meet a man who doesn't need to crane his neck to make eye contact with me in heels."

The barb landed precisely as intended. At five-nine, James was exactly two inches taller than Victoria, which meant that in her typical three-inch heels, he was indeed looking slightly upward to meet her eyes.

"I'll be sure to include that in his contact details," James replied dryly. "Height: approximately six-foot-two. Should I also note his shoe size?"

Victoria shot him a look that could have frozen lava. "Just make the reservation, James."

And just like that, balance was restored to the universe. James adjusted his tie again and followed her out, hating himself a little for the warmth that had spread through his chest at her backhanded compliment, and hating himself even more for the jealousy that gnawed at him now.

It was going to be a very long week.