The next morning at DMS Logistics feels the same—at least at first. The office is buzzing with the usual chaos, and you’re already getting comfortable with the idea that you’ve asserted some level of control over your surroundings. You stroll through the cubicles, feeling good about yourself. Olivia’s at her desk today, leaning back in her chair, legs crossed under her short skirt, her expression a mixture of boredom and superiority.
The sight of her annoys you. She’s been here barely a week and already acts like she runs the place. Today, you’re in no mood to let her bratty attitude slide. You approach her desk, your voice cutting through the air like a blade.
“Still wasting time, huh?” you sneer, watching as her eyes snap up to yours, cold and calculating.
Olivia sits up straighter, her lips curling into a smirk. "Why? Are you jealous, or just pissed off that I'm better at this than you?" she fires back, her tone dripping with arrogance.
You feel the familiar irritation bubbling up inside you, but instead of backing down, you step closer, lowering your voice so only she can hear. "You know, for someone who barely knows what they’re doing, you sure do talk a big game. Maybe you should spend less time flaunting your legs and more time actually doing your job."
Her smirk fades instantly, her eyes narrowing into a glare. But before she can respond, another voice—one that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up—cuts in from behind you.
“What exactly is going on here?”
You turn around slowly, heart dropping into your stomach, to find Scarlett standing just a few feet away. She’s wearing a tight black dress that hugs her curves, her long, curly hair cascading down over her shoulders like a dark waterfall. As always, she’s towering in her black stilettos, making her seem even more intimidating. Those heels, at least six inches tall, glint under the fluorescent lights, commanding your attention in a way you can’t seem to resist. Your eyes are drawn to them involuntarily, the way they click against the polished floor, announcing her dominance with each step.
But it’s not just her appearance that has you on edge—it’s the look on her face. Her eyes are cold, dangerously cold, and the soft, fake politeness you saw yesterday is gone. Now, there’s nothing but raw power radiating off her, a silent promise of punishment for your disrespect.
“I asked you a question,” Scarlett says, her voice low but laced with fury. “What’s going on here?”
You try to recover, clearing your throat and standing straighter. "Nothing, Scarlett. I was just telling Olivia to—"
“To what? Respect you?” she interrupts, her voice sharp. She steps closer, her stiletto heels clicking with purpose. Her height, enhanced by those impossibly tall heels, makes you feel like you’re shrinking under her gaze. “Do you think you can just walk around here, treating people like garbage, especially someone who’s only just started?”
Olivia watches the entire exchange, her smirk returning as she realizes the power dynamic is rapidly shifting in her favor. Scarlett’s full attention is on you now, and it feels like you’re being stripped down, layer by layer, humiliated without her even needing to raise her voice.
“I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior,” Scarlett continues, stepping even closer. She’s looming over you now, her heels giving her an even greater height advantage, and you can’t help but glance down at them again. Those shoes… they’re like weapons, symbols of her power and dominance. You’re completely distracted, trapped in the moment, and she notices.
“Eyes up here,” she commands, her voice snapping you out of your daze. She tilts her head, studying you as though she’s deciding what to do with you. “You think you’re in control, don’t you? That you can talk down to people because you’ve been here longer? Well, I have news for you—you’re not in control of anything.”
You open your mouth to defend yourself, but the words die in your throat as Scarlett steps closer still, her stilettos now right in front of you. She towers over you, her eyes burning into yours. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the fact that she’s the one with all the power here—and she knows it.
“I think,” she says slowly, each word deliberate and calculated, “you need to learn a lesson. You need to understand what it feels like to be at the bottom.”
Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize where this is heading, but you’re too stunned, too off-balance to say anything.
“Olivia,” Scarlett says, turning her gaze to the younger woman, “how would you like to trade places with him for a day?”
Olivia’s face lights up with delight, her eyes flicking to you, practically glowing with triumph. "Oh, I’d love that," she says, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
Scarlett turns back to you, her expression unreadable but her intent crystal clear. “You’re going to be Olivia’s assistant for the day. You’ll do whatever she asks. You’ll follow her lead. And by the end of the day, maybe you’ll learn a little humility.”
You feel a wave of humiliation wash over you, your cheeks burning. The thought of following Olivia around, being at her beck and call, is infuriating. You open your mouth to protest, but Scarlett cuts you off before you can even start.
“Unless, of course,” she says, her voice soft but menacing, “you’d rather take this up with Courtney. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to hear how you’ve been acting.”
The threat is clear, and you know you have no choice. Scarlett’s word is law here, and going against her would be suicide. You grit your teeth and nod, the words sticking in your throat as you force them out.
“Fine,” you mutter, barely able to hide your frustration. “I’ll do it.”
Scarlett gives you a small, satisfied smile. "Good. I’m sure Olivia will have no problem teaching you how to behave."
She turns on her heel, her stilettos clicking sharply as she walks away, leaving you standing there, fuming with anger and humiliation. Olivia, meanwhile, rises from her seat with a smug smile, clearly enjoying every second of your downfall.
“Well then, let’s get started,” she says cheerfully, her voice full of mock enthusiasm. "First things first—you can fetch me a coffee. I take mine black."
She leans in, whispering close to your ear. "And make sure it’s hot. I’d hate for you to mess up on your first task as my little assistant."
You glance over your shoulder, watching Scarlett disappear down the hallway, her heels echoing like a reminder of your new reality. This was no longer your game to play.
It was theirs.
And you were about to find out just how far down the corporate food chain you could fall.
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