Owned by the CEO

Torn Between Heart and Reason

♥ Chloe ♥

Sunday mornings had become my sanctuary. But not today. The pale sunlight filtered through my tiny apartment’s curtains and danced lazily across the hardwood floors, but the warmth in the room didn’t quite reach me. Not really. I had been awake for hours, staring at the ceiling and replaying last night on an endless, torturous loop. Jethro Jotham kissed me. AND I had kissed him back. But then again, I had also slapped him and ended up running away like some panicked i***t. Now, here I was, stuck in this one-bedroom apartment with nothing but my thoughts and the faint scent of lemon cleaner. I pressed my palm to my forehead as if I could scrub the memory from my brain the way I scrubbed my countertops. I dragged the mop across the floor with unnecessary force. My reflection wavered faintly in the water as I muttered under my breath.

“Why would he do that?” I asked aloud. But I already knew the answer, didn’t I? Because I wanted him to. That was the horrible, wonderful truth. Jethro was my boss. He was impossible, cold, demanding, and yet he occupied every corner of my mind in ways he had no right to. I had tried to convince myself it was just admiration, some twisted form of professional respect. But the way my stomach fluttered every time he looked at me, I wasn’t fooling anyone. Least of all myself. And last night, when his lips had crashed against mine, all my carefully constructed walls had crumbled. For a moment, I let it happen. I had let him pull me into that storm. My heart had started to race, and my fingers had curled into his shirt like I never wanted to let go. But then I had been hit with reality.

Who he was. Who I was.

And then I had slapped him. My face burned all over again at the memory.

“Damnit, Chloe,” I whispered to the empty room. “What have you done?” I tossed the mop aside and went to the kitchen. Maybe meal prepping would distract me. Maybe chopping vegetables and portioning out meals for the week would quiet the chaos in my head. It didn’t. As I diced carrots, I imagined the way his hand felt against the back of my neck, warm, firm, and possessive. The way his lips had moved over mine, demanding and devastating all at once. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a spark that threatened to burn down everything. I slammed the knife down on the cutting board and covered my face with my hands. I couldn’t let this happen. He was my boss. This was Velmora City, not some romantic daydream where the CEO falls for the assistant and they live happily ever after. I needed this job. I needed stability. But my heart didn’t seem to care about logic. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him again. I smelled his cologne, which had been rich and sharp, like cedarwood and smoke. And the worst part? I wanted more. I forced myself to finish my meal prep for the week. When I was done, I dropped onto the couch and buried my face in my hands. And to top it all off, I couldn’t even call a friend to talk this through. Not here. Not in this city. I had left my old life behind for a reason. I had no one to talk to. No one to confide in. I was alone. I turned on the TV in the hopes of distracting myself.

“Good evening, Velmora. In headline news tonight, the city’s most exclusive social event of the season has just been announced, and it comes from none other than Jethro Jotham, the elusive CEO of Jotham Sovereign,” the woman stated on the screen. I groaned softly, but I didn’t change the channel as I watched the screen. They showed the building of Jotham Sovereign. “Known for his sharp business acumen and impeccable taste, Jotham will be hosting a private gala at the Sovereign Heights penthouse to unveil his latest luxury venture. The event is strictly invitation-only, with a guest list rumored to include some of Velmora’s most powerful figures in finance, politics, and entertainment,”

“Yeah…” I murmured as I continued watching.

“Little is known about what Mr. Jotham plans to reveal at the gala, but sources close to the Sovereign team say it will ‘redefine Velmora luxury as we know it.’ As always, the man himself has not given any public statement,” right then, the screen filled with Jethro, who looked cold with that unreadable expression. “Will the city’s Ice King make an appearance, or will he leave his empire to speak for him? Stay tuned for live coverage on gala night,”

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes as another announcement came on about a new bakery that had opened up. I barely paid any attention to it. I stared at the screen while I tried to convince myself that I was fine. But the truth was, I wasn’t. I wasn’t fine. I was spiraling. My phone suddenly buzzed on the coffee table, and I snatched it up so quickly, I nearly fell off the couch. But it wasn’t him. Why would it be him? I groaned as I read through the email I had been waiting for. A work email about a delivery I would have to deal with tomorrow. Still, I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. If I was smart, I would pretend like the kiss had never happened. Like it had just been a mistake. A lapse of judgement from the both of us. Except it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like crossing a line we couldn’t uncross. I pushed the phone away and stood abruptly. The apartment felt too small, too suffocating. I needed air. I opened the window and let the ocean breeze from Velmora’s coast drift in. It carried the faint scent of salt and city life, which, oddly enough, grounded me for all of five seconds. But then the reality hit me. I would see him again tomorrow. And then I would have to pretend like my whole world hadn’t tilted off its axis. Could I do that? Would he even let me? What would tomorrow bring?

♥ ♥ ♥