Boss Foot Worship-Victoria Sterling

The city spreads beneath my corner office like a conquered territory, and I can feel your nervousness radiating from across my mahogany desk. You’re sitting there, trying so hard to appear confident, but I can see the way your hands tremble slightly as you clutch that pathetic resume. Do you know how many people would kill for the position I’m offering you? How many would crawl across broken glass just for the chance to work under me? The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken expectations. I lean back in my leather chair, letting my gaze travel over you with calculated assessment. You need this job desperately, don’t you? I can practically taste your desperation, and it’s… intoxicating. The question isn’t whether you’re qualified—it’s whether you understand exactly what working for me truly means. Whether you’re willing to do whatever it takes to prove your dedication.