Page 1 of The Heartbreak Hotel

Chapter One

Ella

Ella had a habit of overreacting. She probably should’ve bitten her tongue when the old man took too long in the checkout queue, or when the teenager pulled out on her at the roundabout the other week. These things happened, she supposed. She could’ve exercised more patience, too, when the freckled barista dropped her steaming Arabica bean blend on the floor, speckling her expensive work heels with coffee.

But Ella was not overreacting now.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she snapped, catching the slight widening of Maeve’s eyes.

Her boss cleared her throat, crossing one long leg over the other. Those piercing brown irises met Ella’s again. “I’m not kidding, Ella. Starting one week today, you’ve been made redundant from Switch Studios.” She held Ella’s gaze coolly, despite the rage that was no doubt burning there.

Maeve was probably used to the anger. There’d been no shortage of arguments that year they’d dated. Particularly when Ella found out she’d been sleeping with the marketing company’s receptionist as well. Annabelle was a slightly younger, slightly perkier version of Ella, except less confrontational and more flexible, too, if the constant posting about yoga on her social media was anything to go by.

Ella hadn’t overreacted then, either. Deliberately overwatering all Maeve’s office plants and throwing her belongings out of the office window barely scratched the surface. Of course, it would’ve been much more impressive if Maeve’s belongings hadn’t been just a sparingly used toothbrush and an old, oversized university T-shirt she slept in on the rare occasions she agreed to stay at Ella’s place.

Maeve had always made it clear what she thought about Ella’s smaller apartment.

Ella unclenched her jaw. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Ella shook her head, aggressively pacing the plush carpet in Maeve’s office. With a huff, she tucked her cherry-red hair behind her ears, only for it to spring straight back out again. It was in dire need of dyeing, the brown roots thick at her scalp, but this was far down on her list of things to do. She’d promised herself she’d book in with the hairdresser right after she’d finished with the McAndrews’ file. Having to come up with catchy posts and hooks for a mind-numbingly boring garage-door company had zapped a lot of her brain power. Not that any of that mattered now.

“This is bullshit. Why me? What are you doing this for?” Ella stopped pacing and snorted, a habit her mother scolded her for whenever she got the chance. “Because of Annabelle?”

“No. It’s got nothing to do with Annie.”

Ella’s insides boiled. She despised Maeve when she called Annabelle that. She’d never given her an affectionate nickname when they were dating.

“Bullshit.”

“Ella. It doesn’t have anything to do with her.” Maeve’s soft breath as she rose from her navy chaise-longue made Ella pause. “It’s come from the higher powers. The directors say we’re on a decline. We have to make cuts.”

Ella dropped her head and pressed her lips together, trying to bite back a comment about Maeve’s daddy dearest, one of the company directors. She’d always had a suspicion he didn’t like her. Was this to do with her comments at the Christmas party? If he didn’t want to get found out, he shouldn’t have been letting his not-wife jingle his bells out in the open hallway.

I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“I am genuinely sorry about this,” Maeve continued. “I knew nothing about it.”

Ella glanced up, inhaling at Maeve’s sharp, triangular jawline, which was all too close to her. She followed the straight edges, admiring her pale cheekbones, before landing back on her eyes. A tingle ran from her sternum down into her stomach, and she cursed it. She cursed this woman for having any physical effect on her whatsoever. Her body had some nerve reacting that way.

Stupid heart.

She took a step back, brushing against one of the senselessly big ferns that crowded Maeve’s office. She’d taken great joy in murdering one of those last year. This one would be next on her list.

“If there was anything I could do to keep you, I would,” Maeve said, her gaze softening as it fell over Ella’s form. “But it’s out of my hands.”

“Bullshit,” Ella said again, but softer this time. The rare glimpse of the other side of Maeve, hidden deep beneath the business pantsuit and perfectly straight jet-black hair, was messing with her head. Her brain worked overtime to block certain memories of their relationship. The two of them snuggling together on a ski lift in La Plagne; fucking in Maeve’s super-king-sized bed and then watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy; the adorable way Maeve’s nose scrunched when she really laughed. Ella wanted to bury these moments so deep they wouldn’t resurface. It hurt too much to face them every day. Especially when it was all lies.

Nausea crept into her throat, and she swallowed it down. How has it come to this? Maeve knew the sexual power she possessed, and she wasn’t afraid to use it. That was how she’d convinced Ella that workplace romances were the real deal two years ago. Look how well that turned out.

Not only had her boss stomped on her heart, but she’d also convinced her to keep working for her, to stay late, watching her ex and new girlfriend leave the office together, all while trying to go above and beyond… And for what?

A shitty end-of-year bonus and the rapidly fading potential of getting back together with Maeve?

At this point, Ella wasn’t even second-best. She was fourth, fifth, sixth. The type that didn’t win any rosettes for just the effort of participation.

Maeve gave Ella one of her signature half-smiles. The type that used to make her knees weak in the morning meetings. “You know how much I’ve loved working with you—”