Owned by the CEO

♥ Chloe ♥ The elevator doors slid shut behind me with a soft chime, and trapped me inside a capsule of polished glass and chrome. I adjusted the strap of my bag and stared at my reflection in the mirrored panel as I tried to ignore the way my heart hammered in my chest. Today was the first day of the rest of my life. New job, new city, new everything. I whispered the words to myself repeatedly. This was my fresh start, and I wasn’t about to mess it up. Velmora City was breathtaking. Coastal winds carried the scent of sea salt through the towering skyline. Everything here glittered. The people, the buildings, and the dreams. It was a city designed to swallow you whole or lift you to the stars, depending on who you were. I didn’t know yet which one I would be. I only knew I didn’t have the luxury of failure. I had been lucky to get this job. That is what I told myself every time the nerves crept in. A friend, someone I had to leave behind, had referred me. I didn’t know how or why I was chosen, but I needed the money, the stability, and the distance from everything I had run from. So, I pressed my lips together and stood tall as the elevator climbed higher and higher, toward a future I hoped wouldn’t crush me. The doors finally opened to a sleek reception floor, and I was greeted by a broad-shouldered man in a navy suit with a red HR badge clipped to his chest. His smile was too wide, like he knew something I didn’t. “You must be Chloe Samuel,” he said as he extended his hand. “I am Hank Richards. Human Resources. We spoke on the phone,” “Nice to meet you,” I replied as calmly as I could. I didn’t want him to see my anxiety. He nodded as he gestured for me to walk with him. “Come. You aren’t just going to be another assistant down in admin. We need this spot filled, so you have been placed directly under the CEO,” he explained, and I paused mid-step as I stared at him in surprise. “The CEO?” I repeated, and my voice was higher than I wanted it to be. Hank chuckled like it was adorable. “Yes. Mr. Jethro Jotham. Unfortunately, his last assistant of five years got married and moved, so we needed to fill the spot immediately. Plus, you came highly recommended by a trusted source. He approved it, himself…which is rare. Very rare,” he explained, and a cold flutter ran down my spine. The Jethro Jotham? The owner of Jotham Sovereign? The name etched in gold across the city skyline? That Jethro Jotham? I swallowed the rising panic and forced myself to keep walking. Hank continued talking, but most of it blurred into static. Something about expectations, professionalism, and privacy clauses. All I could focus on was the fact that I was about to meet the man who built an empire, and I was supposed to assist him directly. We stepped into an exclusive elevator that required a biometric scan. Hank tapped a code into the panel. “Top floor. Only five people have access, and you will be one of them,” I didn’t say a word, and when the doors opened again, the air felt heavier. More still. I could practically taste the money in the atmosphere. Everything was silent. Too silent. Like a palace made of glass and shadows. “This is the Sovereign Level,” Hank whispered, almost reverently. “And that…” he pointed to two tall, matte black double doors at the end of the corridor. “That is his office,” “Oh…” I wasn’t sure what more to say, so I merely followed him as I tried to desperately control the tremor in my fingers. Hank knocked on the door once before he pushed it open. Inside, the office was a vast stretch of glass and dark wood, modern and cold, with a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city and the sea beyond. And behind the desk sat Jethro Jotham. He didn’t look up right away. When he did, I felt it. Sharp. Controlled. Icy gray eyes that pinned me in place. Not a flicker of emotion passed over his face. His jaw was clean-shaven, his light brown hair was immaculately styled, and the custom suit he wore fit him like it had been stitched onto him. He was, undeniably, the most intimidatingly attractive man I had ever seen. And he was looking at me like I was a nuisance. “I expected someone older,” he said, his voice smooth and clipped. “I…I’m more than capable, sir,” I managed, as I stood straighter. Hank gave a short laugh. “You approved her, Mr. Jotham. If you remember correctly, she comes highly recommended. Very efficient,” Hank said, and then he looked at me. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” before I could beg him to stay, Hank slipped out and shut the doors behind him. The sudden silence stretched between us like a wire. Eventually, Jethro stood and came around the desk. He didn’t offer his hand. Instead, he studied me like I was some new software he hadn’t decided whether to keep or delete. “How many CEOs have you worked for?” he asked. “None,” I answered honestly, but then I hurriedly added. “But I have supported upper management and directors extensively,” “Not the same,” he said, his voice flat. “I understand that. But I adapt quickly. I’m extremely organized. Detail-oriented. Discreet,” I said. I had heard a bit of what Hank had told me on the way up. Jethro narrowed his eyes as he continued to study me. “How do you handle pressure?” he questioned, and I hesitated for half a second too long. “Still standing,” I said as I did my best to keep my tone steady. His lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. It was more like a flicker of something; maybe he was amused. Or maybe he wasn’t impressed. “We will see,” he muttered, and then turned and walked back to his desk. “Sit. You are planning my week,” I moved automatically to the chair across from him and pulled out my tablet. The next hour was a blur of rapid instructions, high-level meetings, internal reports, and appointments with names I didn’t recognize but was expected to memorize. I took notes furiously, nodded at every demand, and hoped I didn’t miss anything. Jethro worked like a machine, precise, relentless, devoid of small talk. He didn’t explain. He expected. And I followed. When he finally closed his calendar and leaned back in his chair, he folded his hands together and regarded me with the same unreadable expression. “You have no idea what you have signed up for,” he said. Maybe I didn’t. But I couldn’t back down. Not now. “I’m here to do my job,” I replied calmly. He didn’t respond. He just turned back to his screen like I had already vanished. I hesitated as I remained seated. But then I rose slowly as I watched him. “I’ll begin organizing the rest of the files and confirming your external appointments,” I said, and his only reply was a slight nod. I walked out of that office with my nerves frayed and my confidence shaken. My legs felt wobbly, and my chest tight, but a strange fire had ignited inside me. He was cold. Distant. Harsh. But I wasn’t afraid of him. Not entirely. Something about him pulled at me, his presence, his silence, that flicker of intensity beneath the surface. He was a storm dressed in a suit, and I had the sense I had just walked into the eye of it. And for reasons I couldn’t explain, I wanted to stay. ♥ ♥ ♥