Novels by NOVELLA WRIGHT

Luciano:She was close.Too close.Close enough for her scent to crawl down my throat—something expensive and sharp, layered over red wine and fear she was trying so hard to choke down. I could feel the heat coming off her skin, the tension in her limbs as her fists curled into the front of my shirt like she didn’t even realize she was touching me.Her breath hitched.Mine didn’t.Not outwardly.Inside, I burned.I didn’t move. I didn’t touch her. Not yet. I let her press against me, let her feel the war she was stepping into. Because that’s what this was now—a war. And she was the most dangerous weapon in it. She just didn’t know whose side she was really fighting on yet.“I can do this,” she said, her voice a whisper on the edge of a confession. “I will do this.”There it was.Conviction.Determination.Madness.I looked into her eyes and saw all three reflected back at me. But underneath them… a flicker of something else. Something she hadn’t given a name to yet.She was unraveling

Ava:The elevator opened directly into his penthouse. No keycard. No security. Just silence and dim lights casting long shadows over marble and glass.He was already there.Leaning against the bar like he’d been waiting all night.Luciano Moretti.Pressed shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a tumbler of scotch hanging from his hand like a loaded weapon. The bottle sat beside him—half full, glinting amber beneath the low pendant light. His eyes met mine across the open space, glassy and unreadable.Cold. Calm. Controlled.Except… not entirely.There was something simmering beneath the surface. Something sharp and dark and volatile.I stepped inside slowly, the file clutched to my chest like it could protect me. My coat hung loosely from my arms, my heels soft on the floors. His gaze dropped for a fraction of a second. Quick. Unforgiving. Like a blade glinting in the dark.“You’re late,” he said.“I didn’t realize there was a clock ticking,” I replied, voice th

Ava: A full bottle of wine deep and surrounded by a sea of papers, I should’ve stopped. Should’ve closed the file, turned off the lamp, and gone to bed like someone with boundaries. But boundaries were for sane people. Rational people. Not me. Not anymore. Because between the transcripts and the redacted surveillance summaries, I found it. A crack. A real, actual crack. Hidden beneath layers of procedural sludge and carefully crafted distractions—but there it was. A misstep. A detail someone thought wouldn’t matter, that no one would look twice at. But I did. And it wasn’t small. This wasn’t some minor filing error or a questionable search warrant. This was big. Like case-dismissing big. A lie, repeated. An inconsistency in the witness statement that contradicted a timestamp so clean, it practically screamed fabricated. My heart slammed against my ribs. My fingertips were numb. I stared at it, reading it over and over again, just to be sure. Just to feel that rush, that sic

Ava:The elevator doors slid shut behind me with a low hiss, sealing in the penthouse—the man—and all the oxygen I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.I exhaled, finally. Long and slow, like I’d just surfaced from underwater.What the hell is wrong with me?My heels clicked down the marble lobby, each sound too sharp, too fast, matching the erratic pulse behind my ribs. I kept my head high, expression neutral, the way I was trained. The way I always did when leaving a meeting with someone who could make or break a life. But this—this—wasn’t like any case I’d ever taken.This wasn’t just a man on trial.It was a man I couldn’t stop thinking about. And I hated myself for it.Luciano Moretti was dangerous in all the ways that made good sense run for cover. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t posture. He simply looked. Watched. Every move felt calculated, every silence like a baited trap. And still, I walked in. Still, I stayed.Still, I wanted more.I reached my car and slid into the seat

Luciano:She arrived like a slow-moving threat. Controlled. Composed. Beautiful in a way that begged to be ruined.I didn’t move when the elevator doors opened. I wanted to watch her walk into the lion’s den on her own, heels clicking against the marble, that pristine expression barely concealing the war brewing underneath. She was dressed like she meant business—sleek, clean lines, lipstick just a touch too bold for the courtroom. And yet... beneath all that polish, I saw her.Nervous. Flushed.She’d worked harder on her appearance today. Not for the case. Not for the law.For me.That should’ve satisfied me. Should’ve been enough of a confirmation that she was cracking, slipping into my orbit without realizing how deep she already was.But it wasn’t.I wanted more.She stopped a few feet away, eyes cutting through the air between us. That voice of hers—steady and stubborn—called me Mr. Moretti like it was supposed to keep distance. She still thought names and rules could cage what w

Ava: I told myself it was just a meeting. Off the record. Unofficial. Necessary for strategy. I repeated those words like a mantra the entire elevator ride up—each floor taking me further away from reason and deeper into whatever the hell this was turning into. The penthouse elevator was glass, sleek and cold against the city skyline, and the reflection that stared back at me looked far too put-together for someone coming off a twelve-hour research bender. My hair was pinned up, sleek and soft, not an inch of frizz in sight. A little mascara. Lipstick that could pass for “professional” if I squinted. And the blouse? Silky. Low-key luxurious. Not my usual. I’d spent five minutes too long deciding on earrings. And that wasn’t normal. That was insane. You’re mental, I muttered under my breath. Completely mental. Because it wasn’t the case that had me smoothing my skirt and checking my reflection in the mirrored paneling. It was him. Luciano Moretti. God help me. He was everyth