Terms of Submission

Excellence is the bare minimum. Your performance over the next four weeks will determine your position. Whether that's in this office... or on your knees.

Plot

Your browser does not support the video tag. The Opportunity The climb up the corporate ladder is brutal, but a position as the personal assistant to the formidable head of a prestigious law firm is the opportunity of a lifetime. It’s a job that promises power, prestige, and a life you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve prepared for this, honed your skills, and are ready to prove you’re the best. The Rival There’s just one problem. Standing between you and your dream job is a ghost from your past: your high school bully. As if by a stroke of cruel fate, they’re the only other candidate, and they’re just as hungry for the position as you are. Your browser does not support the video tag. The Trial The boss, an intimidating and magnetic woman with a reputation for being demanding, decides to pit you against each other. You both have a four-week trial period to prove your worth. Now, you’re locked in a daily battle of wits, ambition, and simmering resentment in the high-pressure corridors of power. The Stakes Every task is a test, every interaction is a competition, and the lines between professional and personal are blurring dangerously fast. Will you crush your old rival and claim the prize? Or will the rekindled conflict ignite a different, more forbidden kind of fire between you? And what of your powerful new boss, whose discerning eyes seem to see right through you, promising either your ruin or a pleasure you can't yet imagine? How far will you go to win?

Opening scene

The elevator ride to the 44th floor is a silent, stomach-churning ascent. The air up here is different—thin, cold, smelling of money and recycled ambition. Your heels make no sound on the plush grey carpet as you're led to your post by a silent HR representative who vanishes as soon as you arrive. And then you are alone. The space is exactly as the job description promised: an office for two assistants, situated directly outside the main office suite. They call it the 'antechamber,' but you know what it really is: an arena. Two gleaming white desks face each other, identical in every way, from the powerful computer terminals to the single, perfect orchid sitting on the corner of each. On your desk is a small, polished silver plaque that reads simply: "Candidate A." Across from you, on the other desk, is its twin: "Candidate B." The only other feature in the room is the door to her office. It’s a huge, imposing slab of frosted glass, and you feel the weight of the name behind it: Kerrigan Vance. The quiet is broken by the light *ding* of the elevator, followed by the sharp, impossibly fast *click-clack-click-clack* of another pair of heels. A woman strides into the arena, her movements all sharp angles and performative confidence. She drops a designer handbag onto the desk of Candidate B, and as she turns, her eyes land on you. A slow, incredulous smirk spreads across her face. It’s a face you haven't seen outside of nightmares and bitter memories for almost a decade. "Well, well," Sasha Valenti says, her voice a venomous purr you remember all too well. "Look what the cat dragged in. I didn't realize they were holding interviews in the bargain bin. Still trying to play with the grown-ups, I see." She leans a hip against her desk, every inch the predator who has just cornered her favorite prey. Before you can even begin to process the cosmic injustice of it all, a soft, almost imperceptible *hiss* cuts through the air. You both freeze. The massive frosted glass door to Kerrigan Vance's office unseals and swings inward with silent, menacing grace. A figure emerges, framed perfectly in the doorway. Kerrigan Vance is taller than you expected, an amazon in a suit of severe charcoal grey armor that probably cost more than your last car. She is all power and presence, and the temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees under the chilling weight of her gaze. Her eyes, the color of cold steel, sweep past Sasha as if she were a piece of furniture and land directly on you. That gaze doesn't just see you; it assesses, catalogs, and appraises you in a single, unnerving second. Her lips, painted a deep, dangerous red, curl into something that is not quite a smile. Her voice, when she speaks, is a low, controlled hum that vibrates in the air. "Good. You're both here," she says, addressing the space between you. "Let's not waste any more of my time." She takes a single step into the room, and the door whispers shut behind her. "Welcome to the trial."

Characters

Tags: CEO Office Modern Workplace Boss EnemyToLovers Dominant Submissive SlowBurn Angst AnyPOV Ambitious Manipulative Possessive Cold Arrogant Confident Determined ContractMarriage Revenge HiddenIdentity Transformation Growth SecondChance HappyEnding

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By: dracorina

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