Novels by Ella Parker

The moment I stepped into the lobby, the fluorescent lights felt like spotlights, and every glance felt like it saw straight through to my tequila-scrambled soul.I kept my head down, walking fast but not too fast, silently praying Ryan had overslept or taken a personal day or gotten amnesia, or better yet, transferred to another country.My heels clicked too loudly against the marble floor, each step echoing like guilt chasing me down the hallway as if everyone could hear the words I slurred last night.By the time I got to my desk, my fingers were trembling slightly, and I typed my login wrong three times, cursing under my breath with every humiliating flash of error.All morning, I avoided the hallway near his department, skipped the elevator to dodge eye contact, and ducked behind the ficus when I heard his voice near the break room.My thoughts raced like a carousel on fire What if he tells people? What if he regrets helping me? What if he thinks I like him, which I kind of NO.“

I didn’t wait for the elevator this time I took the stairs, each step louder than the last, like maybe the noise could drown out the breaking sound inside my chest.By the time I reached the sidewalk, the cold air bit at my skin, but it still didn’t numb me more than what I had just overheard inside that cursed building.Matteo and Isabelle moaning behind that door like nothing else mattered, like I had never existed, like I hadn’t been in that very room wrapped in him days ago.I climbed into the first cab I saw, slamming the door harder than I meant to, giving Mia’s address in a voice I barely recognized as my own.The driver didn’t speak, thank God just nodded and turned on some soft jazz, which only made the pain sharper, like I was trapped inside a memory montage.Every traffic light we passed felt like time mocking me, stretching out my shame second by second as my reflection in the window stared back with wide, disbelieving eyes.Mia opened the door the moment I knocked, her rob

Sarah's POVI didn’t cry until the elevator doors closed.And even then, it wasn’t pretty.It wasn’t a soft, cinematic stream of tears or a dramatic sob into my palms. It was the kind that shakes your whole body shoulders trembling, hands fumbling for the wall as if it could hold you up when everything else was collapsing.I hadn’t even bothered to change.The sheet I’d wrapped around myself was clutched tightly to my chest, my discarded nightwear still clinging to my skin beneath it. His scent was everywhere. On me. In my hair. Beneath my fingernails.I hated that.I hated how I still wanted to turn around.I still wanted him to stop me.But he didn’t.And that silence?That was louder than anything he could’ve said.When I stepped out onto the street, the cold air slapped me hard in the face. My legs wobbled. My mind spun. I stood there, barefoot in the middle of New York, wrapped in shame and heartbreak, wondering how I had let myself fall for the one man who never wanted to catch

Matteo’s POVShe stood there, wet and shaking, her camisole molded to every curve, her lips parted slightly, eyes locked on mine like she was daring me to say the one thing I shouldn’t.And maybe I already had.I’d pulled her out of the pool with my heart in my throat, driven by fury and panic, the kind I hadn’t felt since I was a boy watching my world fall apart without being able to stop it.But the moment we got inside, everything changed.Now it was just her.Just Sarah.And the terrifying realization that I couldn’t keep pretending she was just another assistant.I helped her out of her soaked top, my hands careful, deliberate but every inch of exposed skin ignited something deeper, something darker. My fingers itched to trace the line of her spine, to rest on her waist and hold her there, still, close, mine.“Say something,” I’d said.She didn’t flinch.She didn’t move.“Why do you keep doing this?” she whispered. “Looking at me like I’m everything you want and then pretending I

The plates were rinsed and stacked neatly by the sink when a sudden, sharp knock echoed through the apartment, loud enough to make my chest jump with unwanted tension and curiosity.Matteo didn’t flinch just turned toward the door with the kind of casual awareness that said he already knew who was behind it, like surprise was never part of his vocabulary anymore.I stood by the counter, clutching a damp towel, barefoot in my borrowed discomfort, wearing nightwear that suddenly felt far too revealing for the possibility of a new set of eyes.He opened the door without hesitation, and in stepped a tall man with dark curly hair, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, and a grin that was all trouble and charm.“Russo,” he said with a warm punch to Matteo’s arm, “You really do live in a damn museum where do you even keep the liquor?”Matteo smirked. “Still in the cabinet. Where your nosy ass left it last time.”Then the man’s eyes found me just for a second lingering with subtle interest

The office air was heavy with the usual post-lunch hum when the security guard stepped forward, his tone low, uncertain, as if unsure whether the message he carried was even real.“Miss Hart?” he asked again, and something in his eyes made my stomach turn, the kind of look that says whatever you’re about to hear, you won’t like it.I nodded slowly, heart thudding as I instinctively glanced toward Matteo’s glass-walled office, only to find it empty, his presence gone but his weight still lingering in the air like smoke.“There’s a woman outside asking for you,” the guard continued, glancing toward the elevator. “She says she’s your neighbor and that it’s… urgent.”My heart dropped.I followed him wordlessly, the hallway narrowing with every step, my thoughts already spiraling through worst-case scenarios, none of them prepared for what I was about to hear.Outside the building, standing nervously in front of the revolving doors, was Mrs. Carter my retired neighbor from the apartment fl