Temptation: Breaking Victoria Sharp

Victoria had never considered herself prone to distraction. Focus was the cornerstone upon which she'd built her empire, unwavering, surgical precision that allowed her to see opportunities others missed and navigate challenges that derailed her competitors.

For six years, since launching Sharp Innovations from a cramped apartment with secondhand furniture and a surplus of determination, she had maintained this discipline. Through market shifts and tech bubbles, through competitor sabotage and early challenges, Victoria's concentration had remained unshakable.

Until now.

Since the confrontation with James. Days of calculated avoidance punctuated by strictly professional interactions. Telling herself the momentary disruption of their near-kiss was behind her, a brief anomaly born from exhaustion and proximity, nothing more.

She should be over it by now. The ultimatum, the challenge, the unexpected assertion of boundaries, all of it should have faded into background noise as she redirected her focus to the Singapore expansion and its considerable demands. James was an employee, a valuable strategic partner, her trusted strategic officer since she'd dissolved her formal board in favor of a leaner executive team. The brief interaction had been unprofessional on both sides, an error in judgment best forgotten.

Yet as Victoria stood at her parents' kitchen counter, knife poised over an onion, she realized her thoughts had once again drifted to James without her consent or awareness.

The curve of his neck when he bent over documents, the way his collar framed the juncture of shoulder and throat. The appealing protrusion of his Adam's apple. The precise movement of his lengthy fingers when he adjusted his cuffs to reveal strong, well trained forearms, a small, unconscious habit she'd noticed years ago but had suddenly become hyperaware of during recent meetings.

Victoria shook her head sharply, irritated by her own lack of discipline. The knife descended with more force than necessary, bisecting the onion with surgical precision.

James Mitchell wasn't someone she'd even consider her type. At 5'9", he was shorter than the men she typically found attractive. Victoria herself stood 5'8" in flat shoes, and her preference for three-inch heels meant she often towered over him during their early working relationship. She'd always liked taller men, a balance she feels needed in a power couple, broad-shouldered, physically imposing to match her own commanding presence.

James shockingly possess all of these attributes. His build wasn't lean as she preferred but athletic with the perfect size of muscle mass. The wide expanse of shoulders that lined down to tapered lean narrow waist and straight legs to form the perfect T-shaped body. Goodness, has James always been these built? The realization was again shocking.

Not only that, but his presence defined by quiet intelligence and domineering physicality. Before his recent assertiveness, he had moved through her world with calm efficiency rather than commanding attention. The thoughtful intensity in his eyes, the quiet authority he'd begun to exert, all aligned perfectly with what attracted her. She'd always gravitated towards taller men, 6'2" minimum, something her practical mind had never questioned until now.

Yet here she was, standing in her parents' kitchen on a rare Saturday visit, thinking not about the Singapore regulatory challenges or the technology patent pending approval, but fantasizing about the work of art body and precise shade of James's eyes when he'd challenged her to "earn" his kiss.

"Ridiculous," Victoria muttered, attacking a clove of garlic with methodical precision.

"What's ridiculous, dear?" her mother's voice asked from the kitchen doorway.

Victoria looked up, momentarily startled. Samantha Sharp stood watching her daughter with the perceptive gaze that had missed nothing throughout Victoria's childhood. At fifty-two, Samantha remained energetic, her auburn hair barely touched by gray, cut in a practical bob, posture straight from years of demonstrating proper form to her elementary school students, eyes sharp with intelligence behind simple wire-framed glasses.

"Nothing," Victoria replied smoothly, returning her attention to the garlic. "Just thinking aloud about a work situation."

Samantha hummed skeptically as she moved into the kitchen, reaching for the bottle of modestly priced pinot noir breathing on the counter. "Must be quite the situation, considering you've been staring at that garlic for nearly three minutes without moving."

Victoria tensed slightly, annoyed at being caught in a moment of distraction. She prided herself on never showing vulnerabilities, not to competitors, not to employees, and especially not to her perceptive mother, who had an unerring ability to detect shifts in Victoria's carefully maintained composure.

"Just reviewing some strategic decisions," Victoria said, her tone deliberately casual as she resumed chopping. The knife moved with efficient precision, reducing the garlic to perfectly uniform pieces, a skill she'd learned from countless hours in this kitchen with her mother. "The Singapore expansion has some regulatory complexities we're navigating."

Samantha leaned against the counter, wine glass in hand, studying her only daughter with the patient attentiveness that had characterized their relationship since Victoria's childhood. Unlike many of her friends' parents, Samantha had never pushed Victoria toward traditional female roles or expectations, had never suggested she temper her ambitions or soften her approach. Instead, she had observed, supported, and occasionally redirected Victoria's fierce determination with subtle guidance rather than direct intervention.

"Singapore regulations," Samantha repeated, her tone neutral but her eyes knowing. "Is that why you nearly poured olive oil into your coffee earlier?"

Victoria's knife paused mid-chop. "I did not."

"You absolutely did," Samantha countered, amusement warming her voice. "If I hadn't redirected your hand, you'd have ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee."

Victoria frowned, trying to recall the moment and finding nothing but a vague memory of preparing coffee while her thoughts had been occupied with... other matters. Specifically, the memory of James leaning down, turning her chair to face him directly, his gaze never wavering as he issued his ultimatum.

If you want these lips, then earn them.

"I've been working long hours," Victoria said, the excuse sounding hollow even to her own ears. She resumed chopping with renewed focus, as if the precise dicing of vegetables might somehow restore her usual mental discipline. "The time difference with Singapore means early mornings and late nights."

"Mmm," Samantha responded, the small sound somehow conveying volumes of maternal skepticism. She sipped her wine, watching as Victoria transferred the chopped vegetables to a heated pan with practiced movements. "Your father mentioned you've been checking your phone every few minutes since you arrived."

Victoria felt a flash of irritation—at her mother's observation, at her father's comment, but mostly at herself for such obvious tells. She was Victoria Sharp, CEO and founder, known for unreadable composure during billion-dollar negotiations. The idea that her parents had detected her distraction so easily was both embarrassing and concerning.

"Even during a company-wide break, international business doesn't completely stop," she replied, focusing on stirring the sautéing vegetables rather than meeting her mother's gaze. "Some things still need monitoring."

Samantha's silence communicated her disbelief more effectively than words could have. After a moment, she set down her wine glass and moved to retrieve plates from the cabinet, an action that would bring her directly past Victoria.

As she passed, Samantha paused, her hand coming to rest briefly on Victoria's shoulder. The gesture was gentle but insistent, requiring Victoria to look up from her careful monitoring of the vegetables.