Novels by Ms. Anonymous

TESSAGod help me.Of course it’s Aaron freaking Cobalt. Because why not?There he is — gliding across the ice like it’s an extension of his body, all smooth lines and effortless control. He isn’t just good. He was stupidly, unfairly, annoyingly good.Left winger for the NYC Titans, but honestly? If Liam is the heart of the team, Aaron is the sharp edge. Fast, unpredictable, and lethal when it counts. The kind of player that makes defence lines cry and sports commentators lose their minds.Everyone loves to compare them — Liam, the golden boy center, all power and precision. Aaron, the chaos wrapped in charm, turning plays into magic like it was no big deal. Together, they make the Titans impossible to beat. Separately? Still a damn nightmare.And of course, he’s the last person I want to see right now.I spin on my heel, making a beeline for the exit, but my stupid heels betray me. The sharp CLACK, CLACK echoes louder than his skates slicing the ice, and I hear him stop. I can practi

TESSAMy head is pounding. Like, heartbeat-in-my-skull kind of pounding.Hours spent hunched over a computer will do that to you. When the first set of migraines hit, I grabbed some Tylenol, swallowed it dry, and threw on my reading glasses like a grandma with a grudge.Ana from Legal? Probably curled up in bed, dreaming of spa days and balanced schedules — AKA she’s my polar opposite and has a life to live, probably tucked in bed, asleep by 12:58 AM — so she has no time to respond to my emails.Meanwhile, I’m still here.Alone.Again.Whatever.I stretch and let out a yawn. My desk is a disaster—coffee cups, highlighters, Post-its with half-written thoughts and tomorrow’s to-do list.1. Make amends with Emilia.2. Contact her family’s lawyers.3. Get her family photos copyrighted.I seriously do not get paid enough, as a best friend and PR manager. Sometimes, it feels like I work ten different jobs at once with absolutely nothing to show for it. Well, except in the Emilia department,

LIAMTHIRTY MINUTES AGOI have to force myself to stay put and not chase after her.Frustration knots in my chest, tightening like a fist around my ribs. It makes no sense.Why do I care this much?If Emilia wants to run back to Zane, that’s her choice. She doesn’t owe me anything.All she has to do is fix my image — turn me back into the media darling I used to be. That’s it. Simple.Hell, wouldn’t it be easier for her if she just left me in the dust and rode off into the sunset with her ex?Then why does the thought make me feel like I’ve just been checked into the boards. Hard.A million excuses race through my mind, but none of them make sense. None of them feel right.None of them are enough to make this up to Emilia.“Shit.” I run a hand through my hair, leaning against the railing. For a second, I consider throwing myself over just to escape this mess.The party is still going strong behind me, even though Becca and Zane disappeared over an hour ago. The music is loud, pounding

Trigger Warning: Sexual AssaultThis chapter includes a scene involving mild, non-explicit sexual assault. I’ve done my best to handle it with care, but the subject matter is still difficult. Please prioritise your well-being and read only if you feel safe doing so.EMILIAStone reaches out, fingertips grazing the air between us, but I jerk away before he can touch me.Something is wrong.I suddenly realise the bartender is gone. It’s just the two of us. The air feels thick, the silence pressing in.“What the fuck are you doing?!” My voice comes out sharper than I expect, slicing through the quiet between us. Outside, I can still hear the sounds of music and laughter, but it’s so loud I highly doubt anyone can hear a thing happening in here.I stumble off my stool, my legs wobbling beneath me. My head is fuzzy, but not enough to miss the way his smile lingers — like he expected this.Like he was waiting for this moment.Every single alarm bell in my head goes off and this time I don’t

EMILIAAnger rolls through me in thick, uncontrollable waves.Who the hell does he think he is? Judging me like he’s any better? Like I’m the one who’s screwed up here?I stalk down the deck, barely aware of where I’m going. The ocean breeze whips against my skin, but it does nothing to cool the fire in my veins.All the words I should have said claw at my throat. I should have told him exactly what I thought of him. Of his arrogance. His entitlement. His complete inability to take anything seriously unless it benefits him.At least I got over my ex. At least I didn’t leave the girl saving my career alone for two weeks while my psychotic fans harassed her.My nails dig into my palms as I turn into a corner.I pass Johnson — the tech bro from karaoke — and force myself to smile, giving him a small wave. He grins back, but I don’t stop. I can’t.Because the moment I do, my mind goes right back to him.Liam.That stupid, infuriating, reckless man-child.Why do I let him get to me like th

LIAMThe party roars on behind me — music thumping, glasses clinking, someone belting out an off-key rendition of some early 2000s pop hit.I don’t turn. I don’t care.The ocean stretches endlessly before me, dark and shifting, waves rolling in and out as if they have all the time in the world. As if they didn’t just witness Emilia press her tongue to Zane’s skin.My grip tightens around my glass.It was a game. Just a stupid drinking game.And yet my jaw is clenched, my pulse thrumming.I tell myself it’s nothing. A moment that will be forgotten by morning, buried under rounds of tequila and poor decisions.But the thought still lingers — if it was just a game, why did she look away so quickly afterward?I can still feel the heat of Emilia’s body beneath my hands. Remember every shiver a flick from my tongue pulled out of her.Then images of her hands on Zane’s chest, her tongue against his skin.The way he looked at me with that look of disbelief mixed with smugness.I could read hi