Silk Synonym

I caught my boyfriend cheating. So I went to the one man he feared most—his father. But heartbreak turned into hate. And hate led me straight into Asher’s arms. Now I’m caught in something twisted and wrong… It was meant to hurt him. Still he won’t let me go without a fight. Asher Thompson isn’t just a father. He’s the man behind the mask. A mafian billionaire who hides his criminal empire beneath silk suits and polite smiles. And now, he owns me. I wanted revenge, to make Henry hurt. But each time Asher took me apart with a look. And every time I try to leave, he drags me deeper into his world of secrets and sin. He touches me like he owns me. He looks at me like I was made to be his. But I don’t know what’s worse, the pain Henry caused… Or how much I still feel for him, even while I’m in his father’s bed. And when the truth comes out? Someone’s going to bleed. And I’m not sure I want to survive it. This started with heartbreak. Now it’s war. And I’m the one holding the match.

My blood ran cold. Not just because of the words, they’d done worse than the scheme. They mocked me. Rewrote my pain as a punchline. Danced on the grave of my dignity like it was confetti. I staggered back from the door, suddenly aware of how my hands were trembling. Of how my chest rose and fell like I was still being dragged underwater. I could still feel it, the betrayal. The nights I cried myself sick. The baby. The blood. The gaslighting. The cold stares. The silence. No, this wasn’t just a memory. It was a resurrection. I pressed my hand to my chest, grounding myself. This body? This moment? It was mine now. Not theirs. Not his. If this was a curse, I’d break it. If this was a second chance? I’d weaponize it. Let them laugh. Let them bask in their borrowed joy. Because from this moment on, I’m not playing the quiet, obedient pawn. I’m the storm they tried to silence. The reckoning wrapped in silk and scars. They don’t deserve peace. Not after what they did to me. I’ll make them feel it. The same agony, the same betrayal. No, worse. Double. And the Kensingtons? Oh, they won’t be spared either. Their blood's just as soaked in my suffering. I lived by their rules in my last life. In this one? They live by mine. And mercy? Yeah, I left that behind in the last timeline.

Keep your legs open, baby. That’s it… eyes on me.” One had his hand around my throat. Another had his mouth between my thighs. The third… God help me, he was the one who whispered the filth that made me forget my name. Three of them. All at once. Tearing me apart like I belonged to them. And the truth is—I did. Because I gave them my body the night I lost everything else. The night I got fired. The night my boyfriend left me for my best friend. The night I nearly ended it all. But I’d been kind to a stranger once. Gave him my umbrella in the rain. Smiled at him even when my world was falling apart. That man? He found me drunk and desperate on the edge of ruin… and offered me something darker than a second chance. To be theirs. All three of theirs. Not a girlfriend. Not a wife. A plaything. A prize. A pet. Now I wake up in silk sheets. I don’t work. I don’t pay bills. I only exist to please them. And Daddy doesn’t like when I cry. He likes when I beg.

Celeste Virelli is not your typical private investigator. Sleek, calculating, and always three steps ahead, she specializes in one thing: seducing unfaithful husbands to trigger the fidelity clauses in their ironclad prenups. Her clients are wealthy women trapped in golden cages—wives who want out, but only if they can take half the fortune with them. Celeste doesn’t advertise. She doesn’t need to. Her name passes in whispers between yoga mats and charity galas, a whispered promise of justice wrapped in silk and steel. When Vivienne Cross, the young wife of tech mogul Julian Cross, walks into her office, Celeste expects another routine takedown. But Julian isn’t like the others. He’s elusive, calculating, and hiding more than just a wandering eye. As Celeste draws him into her web, she uncovers a deeper game—one that involves offshore accounts, a missing woman, and a secret that could destroy more than a marriage. For the first time, Celeste finds herself questioning the rules she’s lived by. Because this time, the seduction might not be an act. And the most dangerous lies aren’t the ones told in bed—they’re the ones we tell ourselves. The Seduction Clause is a taut, stylish psychological thriller about power, betrayal, and the cost of playing with fire where every glance is a gamble, and every kiss could be a weapon.

“Fine,” I heard myself say, the word tasting like rust. “You want an open marriage? We’ll do open.” A slow smile curved his mouth—victory, not warmth. “Good girl. Then I suppose you won’t mind if I reintroduce Kisha.” The camera panned. There she was, curled on what I now realized was our hotel suite couch, her legs tucked under a cashmere throw that used to be mine. She waved, manicured nails glinting, belly softly rounded under a silk camisole. My world tilted. I forced a smile that felt like glass. “So she’s your girlfriend?” Daniel’s hand settled possessively on that gentle swell. “Not just my girlfriend,” he said, eyes locked on mine. “The mother of my unborn child.” Jayla Carmichael smiles for the cameras as the perfect senator's wife while her world burns. But queens don't kneel. They conquer. Fueled by whiskey and wrath, Jayla ensnares Warren Christopher, a brooding billionaire CEO, after saving his empire in a bar-side twist of fate. Love was the first lie. Revenge is the foreplay, and the truth? it's coming for them all...naked, ruthless and dripping in karma. Will Jayla's vengeance destroy her soul or will warrens fire forge something eternal?. This book isn't just romance, it's war with benefits.

Hindi kailanman pumasok sa isipan ni Zoren Caius Voss na mahuhulog siya—lalo na sa isang fashion show na sa simula't sapul ay ayaw naman talaga niyang daluhan. Ngunit nang tumama ang paningin niya kay Renese Diora Kensington, a socialite draped in silk and scandal, alam niyang wala nang atrasan. From that moment on, she was all he could see. And Zoren always gets what he wants. When Renese’s fashion empire teeters on the edge of collapse, Zoren offers her one way out: marry him… or lose everything. It’s a business deal, he says—but the fire in his eyes tells a different story. Ngayong ikinasal na sila, ginugol ni Zoren ang bawat araw para siguraduhing hindi na ito makakatakas. Binigyan niya si Renese ng lahat—yaman, pangalan, kapangyarihan. Pero kapalit nito, ang kalayaan ng dalaga. Pero habang lumalalim ang kanilang kasal, unti-unti namang nabubuwag ang depensang matagal itinayo ni Renese para sa sarili. And the deeper she falls into Zoren’s world, the more she realizes that this man will ruin kingdoms just to keep her and maybe—just maybe, she’ll let him.

"Be my son's mother." He stated as he pushed the marriage form in front of her. "Marry me." As his secretary, she was used to his glares but this time, his stare felt like he was gobbling her up into his stomach.It was hypnotizing yet, she didn't fall for it. Anger filled her instead, then she stood her ground and said. "I refuse." ***** Alisha has worked for Kristoff Montenegro for three years. Three long years of insults. Three long years of sarcastic comments. Three long years of sufferings. She did everything he asked of her and even went beyond of her responsibilities to make her work perfect, but it's still not enough for his standards. Not surprisingly she started thinking of inventive ways to murder her boss. From stabbing him with a plastic knife. From strangling him with his silk tie. From bashing him with his attache case, Alisha has thought of everything. However, all of a sudden as if fate is mocking her, he proposed to her. It's understandable if Kristoff like her but she knew without a doubt that he didn’t. But when the attraction that has always been there between them, concealed by layers of their antipathy suddenly ignited, nothing can stop the fire between them from burning.. There's just a small problem - Kristoff actually has a secret that can get Alisha killed.

My father found me too rebellious, so he gave me to Marco, tasking him with making a lady out of me. To the outside world, Macro was the ruthless boss to a Mafia empire, but to me, he was just a man with a perpetually stern face. I tried everything to defy him. I smashed his car. Then I swapped his PPT for the lowbrow stand-up he hated most. And he opened it during a company meeting. Yet, every rebellion ended the same. He cornered me, his massive frame dominating mine on the silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the polished oak of his desk, or the leather confines of the car's backseat. His hot skin against mine, his fingers tracing fire along my curves. He moved with a primal hunger that left me breathless. My body arched in unwilling ecstasy, in a dance of punishing pleasure, until my fight dissolved into moans, my will shattered under his relentless claim. I fell for him hard, convinced this was love, and he was the beacon of my dark world. But the truth shattered me: it was all a calculated game to tame me, to stop my war with my sister Karen. My guiding light went out, or maybe it never existed at all. So I became a good girl. I stopped fighting back. He thought he had me tamed, chained to his will. But in the end, I slipped free, leaving him alone with his shattered heart.

Every Thanksgiving, my husband, Salvatore, brings home a showgirl from one of his clubs. He makes me kneel and serve them drinks. A lesson, he calls it, in how to please a man. This was the eighth Thanksgiving, and this time, he brought back a girl poured into a tight leather dress. "She doesn't have any decent jewelry," Salvatore announced. "Give her your heirloom diamond ring. Your grandmother's pearl earrings, too. And take off that silk choker for her." He smirked. "And listen, she's young, doesn't know the rules. You'll have to show her the ropes. Especially how to handle a man in bed." Every member of the Genovese family was watching, waiting for my humiliation. I didn't disappoint. I opened my mouth and asked Salvatore for a divorce. Salvatore let out a sharp, ugly laugh, his eyes full of contempt. "Francesca, you pull this same shit every time," he jeered. "Your act is pathetic. Even more dramatic than your performance in bed." He leaned in. "You really want to divorce me? Fine. I'll give you five million in cash if you actually walk out that door." The living room erupted in laughter. They all said I was playing hard to get, that I didn't know my place. But they didn't know. This was the 88th time I had asked for a divorce, and it was the first time I truly meant it.

“He pressed me to the wall with one hand tight around my throat, the other sliding beneath the thin silk clinging to my skin. I should’ve been begging for help. Instead, my knees went weak when he leaned in, his mouth hot against my ear. ‘Does it hurt, darling?’ he whispered. I shook my head, even as his fingers left bruises. ‘Good. I like it when you take it.’ God, I hated him. God, I wanted him to never let go.” A DARK, EROTIC TALE OF OBSESSION, HUMILIATION, AND HUNGER. They called him the Devil, a sadist with a crooked smile and hands built for breaking men. In the underworld’s most perverse auction, Luca Ruelle is nothing but trembling prey, sold for a price no soul should fetch. Silk-wrapped, bare, choking on shame and smoke, he should be praying for rescue. But Kain Astor doesn’t rescue. He claims, corrupts, and devours. He teaches Luca how it feels to be owned. How pain can bloom where fear lives. How pleasure is just another kind of cruelty. Every command is a dare, every punishment a promise. Under Kain’s hands, Luca learns the exquisite agony of surrender, and the terror of how badly he needs it. He should be fighting for his life. Instead, he’s sinking to his knees, eyes glazed, lips parted, whispering the one word that seals his fate— “Please.”