Novels by M. Ann

Elena POV I barely sleep.Every time I close my eyes, I see the bar, I see julian’s face.The way he stood at my table like he owned the ground beneath us, the way he said my name, low and demanding, the way I turned him down.My heart jumps every time I remember it, a mix of pride and fear.Because I something in my mind tells me Julian Stone isn’t the type of man who forgets things easily.Especially not defiance.Especially not mine.When my alarm rings, I sit on my bed for a long moment, my hands pressed to my face.“Just survive today,” I whisper to myself.I get dressed, fix my hair, and go to work like I didn’t challenge a man who could destroy me with a sentence.At work, the lobby feels colder this morning.Maybe it’s me.Maybe it’s the dread crawling up my spine.When I take the elevator to the last floor, my palms are already sweating.I reach my desk and sit down carefully, placing my bag beside me.His office door is closed.Good.Maybe he’s not in yet.I turn on my comp

Elena POV I stay inside the bathroom stall until my breathing evens out.My eyes sting, my chest feels like it's caving in.But I can’t hide here forever.I wipe my face with the sleeve of my blouse, fix my hair with shaky hands, and look at myself in the mirror.“Don’t cry again,” I whisper to my reflection. “Not here.”I square my shoulders and step out, walking back to my desk like nothing cracked inside me.I sit and begin tapping my keyboard, I open emails, I keep my eyes locked on the screen but every time I hear a sound from his office, the creak of his chair, footsteps in his office, my stomach knots.Still, I don’t look up from the screen“Just work,” I murmur to myself, as I schedule appointment, send reminders and fix deadline, pretending to be fine is the only thing I have control over.And right now, control feels like survival.Around noon, my phone buzzes on the desk, I divert my focus from the computer and pick my phone.It was a message from Nora.Nora:How’s the fir

Elena POV The sound of my alarm tears through the quiet room, sharp and annoying at six in the morning.I groan, roll over, and slap the screen until it stops ringing.For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling.New York.Not Santorini.Not sunlight or blue water.Just my small apartment, my soft grey sheets, and the familiar hum of traffic outside.This is realityYesterday’s sunlight, Santorini’s sea breeze, that hotel room with him, it all feels like a dream someone else lived.But the soreness in my body isn’t a dream.It’s a reminder I can’t erase.I sigh and sit up slowly, rubbing my face with both hands.Julian.His name slips into my mind like it owns space there.I shake my head and push away the thought. Today is supposed to be a fresh start, my first day at Stone Corporation. A job I need, a job I fought for after everything fell apart.“Great,” I whisper. “First day of work and I already feel like I’m falling apart again.”I swing my legs off the bed and pus

Elena PovI wake up on my side, my face half-buried in the pillow, my body sore in places I didn’t know could hurt. Not painful but just the kind of soreness that reminds you exactly how you spent the night.For a second, I don’t move.I just breathe, my eyes still closed, hovering between sleep and memory.Then it hits me.Last night.I jolt upright too fast, my hair falling into my face, my heart punching hard against my ribs.I turn my head, slowly, stupidly hopingBut the other side of the bed is empty.The sheets are a mess. Twisted, wrinkled, pushed halfway off the bed like they tried to keep up but couldn’t. He’s gone.A quiet sigh slips out before I can stop it. Not disappointment exactly more like reality finally catching up.My mind flickers back to last night, his hands, the heat, the way he pulled me under and didn’t let me hide.The way he kissed me, the way he worshipped my body.I grab the nearest pillow, press it to my face, and scream into it until my throat burns,

Elena PovGrief has a soundFor me, it’s the steady hum of a plane engine slicing through clouds soft but sharp enough to drown out everything else.I press my forehead to the cold window and stare down at the Atlantic. It stretches like a silver ribbon beneath us.This is about peace, I tell myself. Not running. Not hiding. Just breathing.But even I, don’t believe that.Nora booked the trip without asking. Typical.“You need to remember what it feels like to be alive,” she’d said, handing me the ticket like a prescription.She doesn’t get it.Feeling alive terrifies me more than feeling nothing at all.When the plane finally touches down in Santorini, sunlight pours into the cabin, warm and blinding. It hits my skin like something holy and cruel.The island is stunning too stunning. White cliffs stacked like bone, blue domes gleaming under the sun, laughter floating in a language I don’t understand. It’s all too much for someone who still feels like a ghost.At the resort, I don’t