Hide Behind A Smile Novels & Stories

Falling for her stepbrother was pure madness, and Simone knew it... Having him reciprocate is dream material though. A tender look here, a smile there, and she could delude herself into thinking he cared as well. But what if she's not so delusional after all? What next?

Content Warning: Smut, Smut and Smut. “He is watching us, Eleanor. Your husband, the one who believes you’re dead, is watching you like this… beneath another man, breathless, trembling, losing yourself across these sheets.” His hand tightened at my waist, drawing a sharp breath from my lips as his mouth brushed my ear. “Good,” I whispered, a slow, wicked smile curving across my lips as my gaze drifted toward the shadow behind the half-open door. I tilted my head back, letting the moment linger—letting him watch. “Then let’s give him a show he will never forget.” ** Once, I had belonged to someone else. A husband who chose my sister over me. A family who buried my screams beneath their lies. A man who did not hesitate when asked which of us should die. He chose me. So now, I chose revenge. A new face. A new name. I would make him crave me… ache for me… ruin himself trying to keep me. And when my sister watches him unravel, piece by piece, she would feel every ounce of pain I did. But to destroy a man, you must first understand his hunger. And the one teaching me? Alexander Blackthorn. My husband’s older brother. A ruthless rogue who believed revenge was never meant to be quick but savored slowly.

She lowered her eyes, not being able to look directly into the eyes of his crush. Matthew however no longer felt embarrassed and in fact lifted Martha’s face by her chin and implanted a deep kiss on Martha’s glossy lips. The kiss lasted for not more than 10 seconds and it was Martha who had backed out of it. As quickly as she withdrew herself from the kiss, she made quick steps towards the encampment and after a few steps, she stopped and turned behind to Matthew “Let’s get back to the encampment or other might get worried” As she lost the sight of Matthew after turning back and walking towards the encampment, a smile made its way on Martha’s lips since deep inside, she was melting like a hot chocolate by remembering the tender way in which Matthew had lifted her chin and kissed her. On the contrary, Matthew panicked as he believed he made a mistake by kissing Martha without her consent. He quickly followed up with Martha when they were just a few meters away from the camp, fearing if she would blurt out everything in front of others. He couldn’t even muster up the courage to talk to her and chose to leave everything on fate. They reached the camping venue, much to Matthew’s surprise; Martha acted very normally in front of everyone but constantly avoided taking a look at him, let alone talking to him.

Atenea, a young woman of captivating beauty, displays an innocent face that could easily be mistaken for that of an angel; however, don’t be deceived, for behind that appearance hides the very devil in a small body. She accepts Valentino Rizzo’s marriage proposal—an ice-hearted businessman—bound by the obligation to save her father’s nearly bankrupt factory. When the young Russian sets foot on Italian soil, she comes face to face with her future husband’s mistress. One might think that the fragile girl would cry over a future with a fiancé who has another woman, but… —“You’re my fiancé’s woman, you say?” —she removes her sunglasses, a gentle smile curving her lips—. “Nice to meet you, I’m Atenea Volkova, the future wife of your man. Sorry… our man.” In contrast, a husband with a cold and unyielding heart, who constantly shows her his disdain and openly professes his love for his mistress, becomes astonished when he discovers a small detail that binds him to his tiny wife. Love arises, grows, multiplies, but at some point, it must perish, for Atenea Volkova is not willing to give her heart to any man. It was a promise made on her knees before a grave, where her fragile heart was buried for life. Can true love bloom between a heart of ice and another cracked and closed to the feelings of love?

My Alpha, Ethan Alexander, and I are supposed to hold our private wedding this morning in Moonlight Forest. But he only shows up at the airport at the very last minute. Just as we are about to board, he gets an urgent phone call from his Omega assistant. "My dear, my future Luna, there's an important business deal back at the pack that I have to handle myself," he says apologetically, pulling me into a tight hug. "Why don't you go on ahead and have a good time while you wait? Just give me a few days. Once I've taken care of everything, I swear in the name of the Moon Goddess that I'll come running straight to you." Disappointment crashes over me like a wave, knocking the breath from my lungs. But pack matters always come first. I swallow the ache in my chest and force a smile as I tell him I understand. The moment Ethan turns and walks away, I rip my plane ticket into pieces. I decide to see for myself which foolish pack dares to bypass me, the true power behind Moonveil Pack and the only daughter of the Werewolf Alliance Leader. I try to negotiate a so-called important deal with an Alpha who holds the title but wields no real authority. After all, I had quietly taken back every bit of Moonveil Pack's territory and wealth just hours ago.

My mate, Charalambos, was the heir to the Nightshade Pack. To take over as Alpha, he was sent to Noctis City, the capital city, for special training. When he left, my stepsister, Francesca, insisted on going with him. He refused at first, but she forced his hand, threatening a hunger strike until he gave in. Eventually, he allowed her to accompany him as his assistant. This went on for three years. Throughout those three years, our mate bond stayed strong. I never felt the slightest hint of betrayal. He constantly reassured me through our mind-link. "You're the only one for me." At some point, I started receiving photos anonymously. Francesca kissed him in the face, but he never refused. Once, Charalambos and I were on a video call in the dark, and I could hear Francesca’s breathless voice clearly while she whispered his name in the heat of it. Three years later, the day he returned to the pack, I saw her walking behind him. She had been with pup for five months, and there was a smug, victorious smile on her face. He looked at me apologetically. Guilt was written all over his face. "I'm sorry. I’ve only ever loved you. Once the pup comes, you can raise it." I was done. I had waited for three years. I made up my mind to reject him.

As the wife of the Colombian cartel heir, Krystal Serrano is a symbol of diplomacy and control. Dressed in silk, wrapped in silence, and displayed like a crown jewel at the center of power. But behind the flawless smile lies a woman raised not just to survive, but to rule. When her husband's betrayal ignites a war with the Italian mafia, Krystal is taken. Kidnapped and hidden away by Zachary Romano, the young, ruthless Don who solves problems with bullets and buries questions with bodies. He thought he had captured a soft, obedient mafia wife. What he brought home was a storm in heels. Krystal doesn't beg. She doesn't break. Her silence provokes, her lips taunt, and her gaze slices deeper than any blade. Inside the stone walls of his private villa, control begins to slip. Hatred turns into tension. Tension burns into obsession. And in their world, love always comes with blood on its hands. The ring on her finger still binds her to a man who believes she belongs to him. But what happens when a woman like Krystal meets someone dark enough to understand her, broken enough to match her, and reckless enough to want her? Because there's a difference between loving a woman like Krystal… And trying to own her. And Zach Romano is about to learn—only one man can stand beside her. The rest will be buried.

“I didn't think you'd come,” Mason Remington said. Lisa's breathing slowly increased as she tightly gripped the contract in her hands. It was already rumpled from the many times she'd read it, playing its letters like a movie in her head, over and over. Was she honestly considering it? She had a boyfriend. And even though she had always wanted Mason, craved him for years, he was her brother's best friend, who before today had never thought of her as anything other than a little sister. She knew what he wanted and what she'd be getting into if she went through with this, but all those thoughts seemed to vanish as she made her way into his office. Mason closed the distance between them, drawing her close with his hands to her waist and closing the door forcefully behind her. He now had her in his arms, giving her a small smile before crushing his mouth to hers, shutting her up before she could say anything. His hands moved up her back and crushed her tiny body against his, causing a quiet moan from her. He kissed her as though he was hungry for her. It wasn't just a show of power but desire. And with every brush of his tongue against hers, she knew all too well, that there was no way on earth she could say no to his proposal.

I was a wedding planner, and I personally designed my husband's wedding to his mistress. I had been with Victor for five years. Three of those years were swallowed by the pandemic. The remaining two were spent married, pregnant, and raising a child. The wedding I had always dreamed of existed only as "next time" whenever it came out of his mouth, until the day I received a new wedding planning request. The client was a young woman, her eyes curved with laughter, her smile bright and full of hope. "This is the venue my boyfriend chose himself," she said softly. "He insisted the wedding had to be held here." I took the file from her, and my gaze stopped on the venue name. The church in Clairmont. The very church I had mentioned to my husband countless times, the place I had dreamed of more than anything else. I was just about to smile and marvel at how someone in this world shared my taste so perfectly when the groom's name leapt into view. Victor Langford. My fingers froze on the page. Across from me, the girl was still wrapped in her happiness. She added gently, "We've only been together for two months, but he said he wants to give me the best wedding possible." I curved my lips into a smile and fixed my eyes on that familiar face—the man I had lived with for five years. After all this time, the day I planned Victor's wedding had finally arrived. Too bad the bride wasn't me.

Raphael Bamford a multi billionaire, a 28 years old bachelor. Every woman's dream handsome, talented and a very well known business tycoon. Famous for being cruel in business world. A cold hearted and arrogant CEO of the most wealthiest and famous company in New York City. But despite the achievements and wealth he has, his brown orbs always hide the sadness and longing for something...or...for...someone.