Novel & Cerita Smooth Sailing Synonym

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne—cedarwood, leather, and power. My hand moved. Smooth, practiced. The pistol slide from under the apron into my palm. I raised it fast. But before I could pull the trigger— BANG. Not my shot. A scream tore through the restaurant as another man launched himself toward Romano’s table, blade flashing. Another assassin. What the hell— Romano didn’t flinch. He shoved the table forward, knocking the attacker off balance. The blade scraped across wood, not skin. I ducked instinctively as the room erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked. Glass exploded. People screamed and dove for cover. “Get him out—NOW!” one of the guards barked. I aimed for the second attacker. Didn’t even hesitate. One shot—head. Gone. The guard saw me. Confusion flashed in his eyes. Then rage. I ran. I weaved between overturned chairs, plates, and screaming bodies. The smell of blood was real now, thick in the air. One of the guards grabbed me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, twisted, and brought the butt of my gun down on his skull. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Out. I had to get out. My boots pounded the floor as I tore through the narrow hallway. But then— “Elisa.” His voice stopped me cold. I turned. Antonio Romano stood in the middle of the carnage, suit untouched, blood spattered behind him like art. His eyes were on me. And he was smiling. It was darker. Slower. Like a hunter seeing something worth chasing. Somehow, he knew who I was. “Interesting,” he said softly, tilting his head. “They sent you.” I didn’t answer. I ran. But that voice followed me. He knew my name. And he let me go. This wasn’t over. It had just begun.

I gave Kenny everything—my love, my future, my dreams. I dropped out of school, worked multiple jobs, and sacrificed my ambitions to send him abroad. Seven years of loyalty, only to find him slipping a ring onto another woman’s finger. Back then, Kenny had nothing. I was his rock, his provider, his everything. But everything changed when he discovered the truth about his origins. "You're useless, Ivana. An illiterate nobody. I could never marry someone like you." His fiancee smirked, resting a hand on her stomach—pregnant with his child. Kenny, once the man who swore forever to me, now looked at me like I was dirt beneath his feet. That’s when I learned the painful truth: A man's love isn't measured in his lowest state, but when he rises. And Kenny had risen—without me. Shattered, I ran. I didn't know where until I found myself at a railway entrance, tears blurring my vision. "Having a bad day?" A deep, smooth voice pulled me from my despair. Josh Williams. A billionaire with his own game. He offered me a deal—one that would change everything. "Marry me. No strings attached. You need a fresh start, and I need a wife." But what I didn’t know? Josh was Kenny’s brother. And his proposal wasn’t just about saving me—it was about buying time. Then the wedding flyers surfaced. Kenny lost it. He couldn’t stand the idea of me being with Josh, and their father was even worse. An illiterate like me had no place in their family. And just like that, the battle lines were drawn—love, power, and inheritance at stake. This time, I wasn’t just playing. I was winning.

Before the contract was even signed, the client's representative casually said he was craving pancakes with maple syrup. I didn't hesitate. I texted my fiancé, Nigel Cross, and asked him to stand in line and grab some. He came back with the box, all proud of himself. The client took one bite, and within seconds, his face went red. Hives bloomed across his neck. He shot to his feet, furious, and called the whole deal off on the spot. Then he turned around and handed the million-dollar order to Olivia Field, the intern who had rushed to grab him allergy meds. Three months of grinding work were gone just like that. I stood there, my throat tight, trying not to fall apart. Nigel squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "It was just bad luck. Don't beat yourself up." I nodded weakly, drained of energy. But the second I stepped away, I heard him laughing in the break room with his friend. "That guy's seriously allergic to mango. Good thing I added mango syrup to the pancakes. Olivia's about to score a huge year-end bonus. Enough for a down payment on her new apartment." His friend hesitated. "Melissa hasn't slept in a month over that deal. She was working while she was sick. She needed that money for her mom's surgery—" Nigel waved him off, already annoyed. "She has me. Isn't that enough? Olivia earned this." My hands curled into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. Bad luck? Yeah, right. Nigel had planned every second of it. And now, he thought he could smooth it over by marrying me someday, toss me a few cheap words, and I would just swallow it. I was done with that disgusting man.

I knock on the door, heart pounding like it always does when I’m about to see him. “Come in,” Justin’s voice calls—cool, smooth, and frustratingly calm. I take a deep breath and walk in, holding the folder tightly. “Here’s the report you requested, sir.” He doesn’t even glance at me. Just keeps typing, his expression unreadable. “You’re late,” he says without missing a beat. I clench my jaw. “There was a delay at the printer—” “No excuses, Joanna. Just do better next time.” Ouch. Professional and cold. As always. I nod, ignoring the sting in my chest. “Yes, sir.” I turn to leave, gripping the doorknob—just one more second and I’ll be out of this weird tension-filled office— “Wait.” I freeze. I turn around slowly. “Yes?” Justin stands now, walking toward me. In his hand, a familiar brown paper bag. He holds it out. “You didn’t have lunch.” I blink. “I’m fine.” “You skipped breakfast too. Eat.” I hesitate. “What is it?” “Chicken pesto. No onions.” My breath catches. He still remembers? “Why are you doing this?” I ask quietly. He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I just… remember things.” My fingers brush his as I take the bag. Warmth. Stupid warmth that shouldn’t still feel this familiar. Then, he looks at me—really looks at me. “You shouldn’t skip meals… wife.” Silence. My chest tightens. “Don’t call me that.” But my voice is too soft to sound convincing. I walk out before I say something I’ll regret. His words echo in my mind like a dangerous lullaby. Cold one second. Kilig the next. God… he’s still him. And that’s exactly the problem.

Jake topher,a billionaire ceo falls for an upcoming model, just when he thought he couldn't be with a woman..... Victoria kings,a witty but courageous model, filled with confidence and determination towards life meets the dreaded CEO who everyone seems scared of in the city...she shows no fear. A fun romantic comedy with a touch of drama and action. ********************** "Can I kiss you?" Jake asked, his face just an inch away from hers. Her breathing grew heavy, his lips were near hers, they just weren't touching. She wanted to say something but no words came, so she looked back down, but it lead to more temptation. Her eyes met his lips, his perfectly lined lips, which were slightly parted. "Jake." She managed to mutter, in an attempt to stop him, but her low voice at the moment was more seducing than ever to his ears. "Can I?" He pleaded again, his thick yet smooth voice reverberated In her ears. She shivered when he brought his lips closer to her eears. He was much more closer now, she could smell his cologne, she closed her eyes, she loved the way he smelt, but she couldn't let him do what he wanted to do right now. He was drunk and she knew it. She shouldn't have brought up the idea of wine drinking. She felt a grasp on her waist, he pulled her to himself, there was no space between them now Cupping her face with his right hand, he admired her beauty for a while. "Vee?" He looked at her eyes." I want you, vee." He said, his gaze now on her lips, he wanted to kiss her so badly. ********************* Read more, please vote as you read, and make sure to comment who's your favorite . Genika3na️.

“Easy baby, let me show you how it's done.” I flipped him onto his back and settled between his thighs. His eyes widened, that pretty blush spreading down his neck as I pushed back inside him. “Ahh… go slow,” His head fell back into the pillow, his fingers clutching my chest. I rolled my hips in smooth strokes, letting him feel every inch. Calix arched his back, soft moans spilling from his lips. “You like that?” “It feels so good…” He breathed, “Slower… please,” He begged. I slowed down immediately, watching him squirm beneath me. Then his hands grabbed my waist, pulling me harder against him. “Faster,” He pleaded. “Noah, faster—” *** *** *** “I will tell your father you’re a disgusting faggot!” Caught chest-to-chest with Calix Sinclair on his bed, Noah Kensington’s fiancée threatened to ruin him… forcing Noah to chase Calix out into the pouring rain in the middle of the night. Now engaged to Ariana, Noah still can’t stay away. He sends Calix a text, demanding they meet. And what happens next is the same dangerous game all over again— heated touches, desperate kisses, and raw need. And just like before, Noah betrays him the second his fiancée appears. Calix Sinclair is the captain of Northcott University’s hockey team, but when the rink is sold and his scholarship is pulled, he is forced to make a deal with the one man he hates the most: move into Noah’s luxurious estate, become his private training partner, and belong to the Ice King for six months. But behind closed doors, their rivalry explodes into a dark, addictive obsession. Calix swears he’s straight. He swears he hates Noah Kensington. So why does he keep letting the man who destroys him come back for more?

Three days trapped here with Kael had stripped away every pretense, leaving only the raw heat building between them. His broad, sun-bronzed chest rose with each breath, muscles shifting under scarred skin as he leaned in, his calloused hands sliding up her thighs to part them. "Cassandra," he murmured, voice low and rough like the island winds, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a hunger that mirrored the ache in her core. She felt the weight of his cock pressing against her belly, thick and insistent, already slick with need as he ground against her soaked pussy. His fingers delved lower, parting her folds with deliberate strokes that sent sparks racing through her veins, teasing her swollen clit before sinking two deep inside her tight heat. Cassandra gasped, arching into him, her breasts heavy and nipples hardening as his mouth claimed one, tongue swirling and sucking while his thumb circled her sensitive nub. The cave's chill faded against the fire of their bodies, her hips bucking as he pumped his fingers faster, her juices coating his hand and dripping down her thighs. "Kael... please," she breathed, pulling him closer, her fingers wrapping around his pulsing shaft to stroke its veined length from base to tip, feeling it throb in her grip. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin, and shifted to position himself between her legs, the blunt head of his cock nudging her entrance before thrusting in with one smooth, filling motion that stretched her walls and made her cry out in ecstasy. They moved together in the dim glow filtering from the cave mouth, his hips snapping with increasing urgency, each deep plunge hitting that spot inside her that made her vision blur.

Ten years with Don Maximus. I went from the crazy girl who demanded his "undying loyalty" at gunpoint to Chicago's perfect Donna. When Maximus took the casino's hottest stripper to his private room, I didn't lose my mind. Instead, I tossed the woman the keys to a Manhattan penthouse. When Maximus's new flame threw a tantrum at a yacht party, I didn't bat an eye. Instead, after she slapped a waiter in a fit of pique, I made the police problem go away. When Maximus fought with one of his girls, I'd even send her a limited-edition Birkin to smooth things over. And today, Maximus is busy fucking his hot new toy in the study, while another pregnant mistress stands on the estate's rooftop, threatening to jump just to see him. And I'm still the one in my red-bottom heels, calmly going to clean up his mess. The mistress screamed, desperate. "I'm not having this baby! Get Maximus!" I took a sip of my wine, my voice bored. "He's busy today. You have the baby, and I'll make sure seven figures show up in your offshore account." My indifference set her off. She grabbed my wrist, her grip like iron. "You're pathetic, Angelina! There was a time he wouldn't even look at another woman because of you. He slaughtered an entire family for you. When you were shot, he knelt in the pouring rain outside a church, begging God to take his life for yours! But now? You can't even get into his bed. All you can do is stand here and play the gracious Donna!" Her nails left red marks on my skin, but the smile on my face didn't crack. Did she really think a little drama would change anything? I wasn't playing the gracious Donna. I was just done. And I was finally ready to let Maximus go.

I was born with a built-in fortune system. Whenever I'm happy, everyone around me makes money. To keep me in a good mood, my billionaire father takes me out on adventures every single day, showering me with limited-edition sneakers, private yacht charters, and one-of-a-kind luxury items. It all comes down to one thing: the Connolly Group's luck is tied directly to my emotional state. As long as I'm laughing hard enough to snort, the stock price climbs and the money pours in. The moment my mood tanks, the losses start. At worst, the whole thing goes bankrupt. Take last month. One of the cleaning staff accidentally tossed out half a macaron I'd left sitting on the counter, and I was mildly annoyed for about a second. The next day, the Connolly Group's West Coast division posted a hundred-million-dollar loss. Dad spent the entire night buying up ten gourmet bakeries and terminating the cleaning company's contract just to smooth things over. After that, nobody in Manhattan's upper-crust social scene dared so much as look at me sideways. That was, until Dad flew out to Los Angeles on business, and Isabella, the long-lost biological daughter who'd just been found, walked into my room. "You've been leeching off this family for years," she said, looking down at me with pure contempt. "Did you actually think draining the Connolly name dry made you the real heiress? I'm the one with Connolly blood. Now that I'm back, it's time for you to crawl out of my house." I didn't react. She picked up the black coffee sitting nearby and poured it straight onto my keyboard. I watched the screen go dark, and something hollow opened up in my chest. "Get on your knees and clean it up." I wiped the coffee off my face. The air had gone cold. The Connolly Group was about to implode, and I found myself wondering whether Dad, thousands of miles away in LA, was already reaching for his heart medication as he watched billions evaporate off the ticker.

In my second year running the company, my high school class monitor suddenly started tagging me nonstop in the group chat. [Alice, Vivian was only joking with you back then. Why won't you come to her party? Are you trying to make her feel guilty?] I didn't understand what was going on. Only after reading the messages did I realize that our class beauty, Vivian Spencer, had recently found her biological parents—and today, she had thrown a party to announce it to the world. Me: [I'm busy.] I had no intention of attending a party hosted by someone who used to bully me. But my answer didn't shut them up. Instead, it stirred up even more absurd speculation. [Don't tell me you're doing some kind of labor job and can't take leave?] [We're all former classmates. If you show up, I'll give you sixty dollars. That should cover two days of your salary.] Vivian chimed in as well. [Alice, it was just a joke back then. And I'd already dropped out by then. Why can't you let it go?] I stared at her message for a long moment before typing: [Only trash would call bullying a joke.] The group exploded instantly. [Vivian's no trash! She's a wealthy heiress. She's not even in the same league as you. Poor people really love to nitpick.] Vivian, ever the hypocrite, tried to smooth things over. [No matter what, today marks a new beginning for me. I hope you'll come to witness it. [We're classmates, after all. I don't hold it against you for forcing me to drop out. If you're short on money, I can even ask my dad to arrange a job for you.] Then she sent a screenshot of her chat with her father. When I saw her father's profile picture, I froze. Wasn't that the same profile picture as my freeloading dad? But I look seventy percent like my mom—it's impossible for me to be a fake daughter. And Vivian was two months younger than me. I let out a laugh. "Alright, I'll definitely attend your recognition party."