Trapped Between Two Ceos

Arielle Pov

“You’re not taking that internship.”

Kieran’s voice came through the phone sharp and uncompromising. No greeting. No asking how my day was. Just an absolute decree.

I stopped dead in the middle of my room, staring at my own reflection in the mirror. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I don't want you working for him.”

“Since when do you get to decide where I work?”

“Since the man who owns that company became my direct rival.”

I walked over and sat heavy on the edge of the bed. “You didn’t have a single problem when it was still under the old CEO. You even said it would be good experience for my resume.”

“That’s exactly the point. It was someone else. Not Zayden. If I’d known he was going after that company, I would’ve bought it myself before he ever got the chance.”

“Are you serious right now?” My voice rose, the sheer absurdity of it hitting me. “I don’t want to work under you, Kieran. I want my success to be based on my own merits. Not because I’m your girlfriend. Not because you cleared the path for me.”

“I’m not asking you to work under me. I’m asking you not to work under him.”

“It’s the exact same thing! You’re still trying to control the outcome.”

“I don’t support this,” he snapped, his breath harsh over the line. “Why are you being so stubborn and headstrong about it?”

“Because it’s my career! Not yours. Not his. Mine.”

A heavy, suffocating silence stretched for a second over the line.

“Please,” I whispered, rubbing my temples. “I can’t continue with this right now. I need to be at Brianna’s event in an hour.”

He exhaled hard, a sound full of irritation. “Fine.”

I ended the call before he could add anything else to ruin my night further.

The phone hit the mattress with a soft thud. My hands were visibly shaking. I stood there breathing deeply through my nose, desperately trying to get the suffocating heat out of my chest, but it didn't work. I yanked open the closet door, pulled out the simple black dress, and put it on with short, angry movements. Hair up in a swift knot. Makeup done twice as fast as usual. Black heels that made a sharp, loud noise against the floor with every step. I was still boiling on the inside when I grabbed my clutch bag and finally left.

The elevator ride down felt impossibly long. I kept replaying his voice in my head. The cold, possessive way he said *“I don’t support this”*...like my career choices were merely proposals waiting for his personal approval. By the time I reached the street to hail a cab, my jaw genuinely hurt from clenching it so hard.

The rooftop venue was already full of people when I finally arrived. Soft strings played over low music. Warm decorative lights flickered against the night sky. Everyone was wearing masks half-faces, full elaborate faces, some plain lace, others detailed with gold leaf. Black and gold everywhere. Brianna had been planning this for weeks the annual masked charity fundraiser her events company put on for the regional children’s hospital. High-ticket, invitation-only, and strictly no real names once the masks went on. She always insisted that wealthy donors gave far more generously when they felt completely anonymous.

I found her near the far end of the open bar. She turned the exact second she noticed me.

“What took you so long?”

“Got into a massive argument with Kieran.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “Again?”

“Yes.”

“What was it about this time?”

“The internship. He doesn’t want me taking it because of the new owner.”

Brianna raised both eyebrows high. “He’s still harping on that?”

“Apparently. I told him I don’t know why he’s so bothered about it anyway. It’s not like Mr. Thorne even knows who I am.”

“And what did he say to that?”

“The usual,” I muttered bitterly. “That I’m being stubborn. That he doesn’t support it.” I waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Enough about him. Let me see what beauties you have cooked up tonight.”

Brianna’s annoyed face transformed instantly into pure pride. She spun in a quick circle so the deep emerald green dress caught the ambient light. “You’re going to love them. Wait until you see the red one on Maya. The silent auction tables are already completely full. We’ve raised more in the first hour than we did all of last year.” Then she paused and frowned at me. “By the way, where is your mask?”

“I think I forgot it in the rush.”

She dug into her purse, pulled out a sleek, simple black mask, and tied the ribbon securely behind my head herself. She gave me a light kiss on the cheek. “Enjoy yourself. And try not to look like you want to murder someone. These high-society donors can smell bad energy from a mile away.”

Then she disappeared seamlessly into the crowded room, already pulling a wealthy couple toward the auction displays.

I walked straight to the bar. Ordered something strong and neat. Drank half of it down in one quick go. The bitter taste of the argument was still thick in my throat, but as the alcohol hit, the sharp anger loosened just enough to turn into a restless energy. I ordered a second drink, taking a slow sip as I turned around to scan the room.

People were talking in hushed, cultured voices. Soft, theatrical laughter echoed across the terrace. Masks turned in unison toward the auction displays as servers moved smoothly between groups carrying silver trays of champagne. The whole night was meticulously designed so no one had to be themselves.

I didn’t feel like joining any of it.

Then I saw him.

He was standing entirely alone near the far edge of the stone terrace, leaning casually against the railing. A dark black mask covered the top half of his face. He was tall, with broad, commanding shoulders filling out a tailored dark shirt. He wasn't talking to anyone. He wasn't looking at the auction. He wasn't looking for anyone, either.

I finished off the second drink, set the heavy glass down on a passing server's tray, and walked straight over to him.

“Hi.”

He turned his head slowly. Looked at me through the sharp cutouts of his mask.

I didn’t look away.

“It seems you’re not having fun.”

He looked at me through the cutout of his mask for a long, quiet second, his dark eyes measuring me in the dim light.

“I’m not.”

“Then why stay?”

“Leaving would require talking to the person who brought me.”

I almost smiled, the sharp edge of my mood softening just a fraction. “That bad?”

“Worse.”

I stayed right where I was, leaning slightly toward him, and he didn't move away. Soft string music floated across the terrace, punctuated by the refined chatter of auction bids drifting from the main floor.

“You don’t talk much,” I observed.

“I don’t usually need to.”

“Lucky for you, I’m exceptionally good at filling silence.”

He turned his head a fraction of an inch, taking me in. “I noticed.”

I took a deliberate step closer. Not enough to crowd him, but just enough that he couldn't ignore the sudden shift in proximity. “Are you always this closed