If we play with fire

Franco checked the folder in front of him for the third time. He drummed his right thumb on the surface of the folder, making a great effort not to see again those details he had already learned by heart.

He filled his lungs with air and looked up at the ceiling before he let it out noisily through his mouth and then repeated like a mantra the surnames of the families that murdered his father.

It was true that he should have been aware of every move, and so was the fact that he should have been by her side instead of traveling the world. But he also wasn't going to deny that he could only think of himself at that moment.

Remembering Andrea Garcia's brown eyes weren't doing him any good, much less if he saw that damned article about his happy, perfect family again. One more child in her second marriage, where he wouldn't be her husband either. He wanted to hate her with all his being, but he could not.

Her smiles returned to him, each moment when he came to her with a simple snap of his fingers. He was happy and would remember forever that kiss he achieved without proposing. One who delayed as long as he could not ruin his friendship with his best friend, which in the end did not help.

He was so close to making it his own (and boy did he want it), but the fear in her eyes and the space she kept between them burned in her chest every time she remembered.

I had lost her forever.

He touched his mouth, trying to perceive that softness, but it was not Andrea's delicate lips that his sinister mind brought back from the past but those of the woman posing in the picture in front of him.

The possessor of a malicious smile and a look too insightful for his taste.

Her name on the folder mocked him, and he could almost hear her laughter.

Livia Ávalos, the heiress he was to destroy and for whom he had planned for months a memorable downfall. She was fifth on his list, the one he would revel in and take all the time in the world, making it as slow and painful as he could.

He owed it to his father and himself.

He looked forward to it so eagerly that he could begin to savor in advance the satisfaction of seeing her turn pale in front of him as she recognized him, for that would be the starting signal for his revenge.

"Sir..." The sound of the intercom with his secretary's voice made him jump in place. "Miss Ávalos is already here."

"Show her in, and don't let anyone interrupt us," he replied solemnly.

He settled into his seat, leaning his elbows on the desk, and clasped his hands together, raising an eyebrow to greet her. He had been told he looked intimidating, but a moment before he heard the sound of the door, he thought better of it and walked to the desk behind him and rested his butt on the edge before crossing his arms over his chest. Her secretary repeatedly mentioned that her muscles were marked "overwhelmingly." That was the exact term she used. So he decided it would not be bad to "overwhelm" that woman from the beginning.

"Good morning"

Livia stopped a few steps before the desk; her red lips curved into a small smile.

"Thank you, Paty," Franco said, dismissing the secretary, who looked at him with narrowed eyes as she noticed where he chose to sit. He ignored her. "Good morning, miss..."

"Call me Livia, just Livia. We seem to be the same age to me."

She held out her hand firmly, intending to shake his.

Franco hesitated momentarily, trying to delay the greeting as long as he could and to get a good look at him. He wanted to enjoy this radical change in her condition, to make her faint from the shock of having him in front of her again. Nevertheless, he noted her displeasure at not rushing to reach out and greet her as was natural.

"Excuse me..." he insisted, not about to give up his eagerness to score his first small victory. "I assumed we knew each other."

He wanted to make him understand with his look and his half sideway smile that we did.

"Mmm. No. I don't think so," Livia replied, mimicking the same gesture with her lips and showing a dimple that, the second it formed, offended him with unimaginable efficiency. Livia arranged one of her locks painted in various shades of blue to one side of her face and asked, amused: "May I take a seat?"

Franco wasn't aware of when he agreed to her request, but he assumed he had as the red" haired woman settled into a chair across from him.

"Fine, go ahead," she urged him with a gesture to dictate the pace of the interview.

Franco sat simultaneously, still paying attention to each of his relaxed movements. The way she tucked her military" style boots across her leg over her knee, sheathed in black pants so tight that it marked her muscles unabashedly, made her throat dry.

However, it was clear that morning that she did not choose her outfit to be sensual. She was somewhat androgynous and not entirely sure why, but he was very upset about that.

He also realized that he had repaired each of his delicate features for too long from the invisible force that made her eyes crawl towards her blues, to her mouth, and then further south like it was an endless struggle to find out what was under that black jacket that covered her completely.

The silence was becoming an embarrassing moment. Franco knew it, but in his defense, he had to say that when he planned this encounter, he never imagined she would ignore him with such nerve. So, he opted to push her a little harder and asked:

"Did you study at Sacred Heart?"

"Yes, I did. It says so on my resume." She pointed to the folder on the desk with one of her black fingernails.

"Me too." He almost snarled that sentence.

The truth was, he wanted to shake her for being so cynical.

"Oh, yeah? What promotion are you from?"

Livia tilted her face with keen interest, and Franco snorted, causing her to squint and look at the office door. She looked as if she were considering a possible way out in case he lost his sanity any minute.

"I graduated a year after you did." He exhaled wearily. Nothing was turning out the way he wanted it to.

"Oh!"

"Yes."

Franco wanted to pound his fist on the desk to make her react.

"No wonder. Wait... that year, Efrain Garcia graduated. He is now an architect, right? He invited me to his graduation party."

Mentioning to him that place where another encounter between the two of them had occurred and pretending I didn't know who he was, was crossing the line, something too low even for a woman with his reputation.

He was... he was...

Suddenly he felt overwhelmed. He had to loosen his tie a little, but that didn't help either.

Livia was talking. He could see her lips moving, red, seductive, and sweet as he thought he remembered. The same ones he had kissed under the gymnasium stairs the morning he was "selected." He received the famous accolade she had made fashionable when she arrived at the institute, turning all the boys into animals thirsty for a bit of her attention.

"What?" he asked stupidly. He had to concentrate.

"I said, if you're not feeling well, we can postpone the interview." His half" curved smile became one of the things he liked least in life.

"No." He shook his head from side to side almost imperceptibly and pulled himself together after clearing his throat. I'm...

She didn't let him finish. She stood confidently and walked over to a table where a pitcher of cold water rested and poured it into a long glass. She moved too close to his side and handed it to him.

But it wasn't that left him petrified. It was the fact that she raised her hand and posed it over his forehead with too much familiarity.

"I'm sorry," Livia said, retracting her fingers as if she had been burned." You're very pale, and I wouldn't want you to die of a heart attack in front of me."

That answer created an internal struggle in his chest. A violent impulse swept over him as he felt her fingers on him. Those simple words felt like poison, and he could not restrain himself from answering:

"No. It was my father who was killed like that."

"I'm sorry," she repeated. Now she was the pale one.

Franco was not at all sorry for that convoluted turn of a scene, but the simple fact of having made her uncomfortable already counted as a small achievement.

His first impression of her now did not matter that she showed some sensitivity either. I had gotten to him, and that was what I needed to focus on his goal.

"Don't worry. It was a long time ago," he lied, waving his hand to play it down. "Livia, I want you to work with us."

"Yes, I read your proposal, but I'm not entirely sure."

"Isn't the offer tempting for you?" He raised an eyebrow. "I made sure to offer you a considerable sum. A little higher than average, if I may say so."

"As you may have seen in my portfolio, I'm a documentary photographer, not an..." she added.

"Advertising photographer," he completed, with a sneer that made Livia draw her eyebrows together.

He realized she hadn't agreed to the salary, which meant she wanted what he had plenty of; money. That made him smile before adding:

"But we like your style and think it goes with the next campaign we're already working on right now. Besides, it must not be so hard to take pictures of beautiful women compared to what you did before."

"Even you?" "he said, gritting his teeth with a force he was enjoying. He had character, and that made it an exciting game. "This profession is art. It is not the camera, it is the photographer who is able to capture the right light to control each image. You need to know exactly what you want and how to achieve it. It's about telling a story through the lens."

"You seem very passionate."

Franco wasn't surprised by her effusiveness, but he was impressed that she did so, even knowing her precariousness at the time.

"I like what I do." He raised his chin in defiance. "Who's in the creative department? I read that Elias Kramer has just joined the team, will he lead it?"

"I'll do that." He savored the moment his smile faded from his lips. "You'd work alongside him, but the decisions are mine."

"I guess they cover the equipment."

That point struck Franco. After the egotistical speech about his profession, he was right. She had no money, so she pretended to meditate until she saw her move in her seat.

"Of course. We know how to pamper our talent with the best." He pulled out his checkbook and signed over the checkbook, feigning little interest in what he was doing. He ripped it out and handed it to her with a smile, "Two months in advance," he explained, a surprised gesture that lasted only a second. "Sure... if you accept."

"Won't you give me a test?"

"I know what I want when I see it," he said, intending to make her nervous.

He gave her that look that had made him famous among the women of the city, but she wasn't even seeing him. His attention was focused on the piece of paper, and that bruised his pride.

Again.

"Then I accept," she replied, raising her face and looking at him as if he hadn't been trying to seduce her with his famous panty" dropper smile. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. At..."

"Franco, these are the ones I want. They have the perfect measurements and look... delicious," said a man carrying so many folders in his arms that they almost covered him completely.

"Elijah"

"No, you have to see them, man. There's a Yugoslav who calls me with her eyes. I'll take her, you choose among the others..."

"Elijah..." he said in a severe tone to make him shut up at once.

"You know you're a cheat, and I'm a compassionate friend, but that woman will lick my balls this time.

"Elijah!" he shouted firmly.

He felt ashamed for taking his friend to work with him. He was a great professional, but his lack of filter had caused them a lot of headaches. However, he was the only one who could help him keep an eye on Livia without her getting suspicious.

"Oh, wow! My apologies," said the brown" haired man before putting the folders on his desk. He bowed in a curtsy that made him laugh, but Livia didn't seem flattered. "My pleasure. Elijah Kramer, and you are?

"Livia Ávalos. The one with the Canon 60D."

Elijah changed his attitude in a second. That amusement died down, and Franco watched with horror the fire that awoke in her green eyes. No, that couldn't be happening.

"You never accepted my dinner invitation," said Elijah in a tone he knew too well. "My 5D and I felt so, so snubbed."

He shook it off, his hands feeling sweaty.

When Elijah named his camera and him in the same sentence, it was because he meant it. No matter how stupid that still seemed to him.

"I might consider it, now that we'll be working together I don't think it's impossible."

Livia raised an eyebrow to perfection and smiled so flirtatiously that he had to clench his fists to repress the impact it caused on his crotch.

"Did I miss something?" she interrupted after clearing her throat several times and getting their attention.

"I... I..." stammered his friend with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"It's a funny story, and I'll let him tell you." Livia stood up and extended her hand to him to say goodbye and then to Elias, who hesitated for a second but finally kissed the back of her hand gallantly. Franco wanted to hit him. You should check your blood pressure," she said, looking him in the eye and pointing to her heart before going through the office door.

They watched her leave and remained silent, not knowing what to say.

Franco remained incredulous before the nervous attitude of his friend, something so few had seen in his life that he decided to shut up before jumping on him because it was just what he wanted to do at that time.

"How did your plan go?" Elijah seemed to check the contents of the folders, but Franco knew he wasn't seeing anything.

"Everything went to hell," he answered without waiting for Elias to smile at his words and give him a look of apology that he would not accept so easily. "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" He pointed to the place where Livia had been minutes before.

"No."

Franco saw his friend leave his office quickly and lose himself in the corridor that showed him the glass wall. On the third step, he didn't walk. The bastard ran after Livia, of that, he was sure.

He felt an irrepressible urge to go after him and force him to answer, but he had already handed her the check, and that was the best way to ensure his permanence in the company, so he dismissed the idea. He would have time to figure it out. Besides, Elijah would never interfere in his plans. He was his friend.

The next attack would be that very night, and I would see her again, but she didn't know. She may have told him not to surprise her, but Livia disintegrated all her plans that morning under the smile of her scarlet red lips.

Livia was about to jump up and down like crazy, she felt euphoric and even repressed the scream that bubbled in her throat to come out, but she managed to hold it back just a little.

She stood up straight with dignity as she advanced down the corridor and waited until she entered the elevator.

The doors closed just before Elijah appeared in her field of vision and cursed like a truck driver because he had failed to reach her in time.

She laughed in amusement.

She placed a hand on her chest and did breathing exercises to control her nerves. She took the check out of her jacket pocket with the intention of kissing it with all the mime in the world, but neither did she.

Instead, he pulled the phone out of his other pocket to call April , although her name appeared on the screen simultaneously.

"So what?"

"I'm on my way down," she said, pretending her voice was breaking.

"So, no new dress?" asked April , lowering the tone of her voice with each word.

"No, I'm sorry. I'll see what..."

"No. Don't worry. I can talk to Margo about getting us some designs."

Pretending to enjoy asking her manager for such favors softened her heart. Her friend couldn't imagine what they could do with all those zeros.

The elevator doors opened, and she hurried outside.

She placed her friend sitting on the hood of her silver beetle, which had brought them out of trouble, despite being an old man of the seventies.

April concentrated on a lock of her hair, and Livia smiled at the men walking beside her, gawking at her. Still, the model (as yet undiscovered) didn't even fully realize the power of the ethereal beauty she possessed and had always possessed.

Livia showed her the check and shook it over her head before sliding it down her body sensuously.

April laughed and got off the hood to run to meet her with wild eyes, and there, in the middle of the sidewalk, they started jumping and shouting without a care in the world.

The model danced with her, making some of the boys are keen to join them, but Livia held April by the waist and neck and slowly approached her lips.

The willing dancers grimaced in immediate disappointment turning away from them, and both laughed.

They used to do that when they went dancing to be left alone.

Livia let go, but April hugged her tightly as she noticed her eyes misting over. It hadn't been an easy few months, especially after they had been kicked out of their last apartment for non" payment.

Both seemed to be pursued by a black cloud, full of all the lousy luck possible because they did not achieve a single contract even if they tried, and their savings were long gone.

This check was one of his temporary solutions, but she was grateful to have it.

"We won't need to go tonight," said April with relief.

"We have to go, Clara called me before I went in for the interview and she was furious. Some guys got on her bad side and she needs help today more than ever."

"How I hate it when your other self invades you."

"Don't be like that," she replied, amused as she listened to her. Come on, we need to fill the cupboard.

"And pay the bills." April fanned himself with the check as they walked to the car and looked at her curiously. "You told him about your experience, didn't you?"

Livia nodded with a laugh.

"See," she exclaimed, showing him her fingernails. "I ate them all because I was sure you would tell them that. They looked you up. They know what you've been up to. Why...?"

"But they paid me for two months, Abi. Two! And Elijah Kramer will be working with me."

"Oh, poor man!"

The model stepped into the horrible ten a.m. traffic in the city.

"And your boss?"

"Fine."

"Just fine? No way!"

"Agh!" April laughed, and she decided to ignore her. "He's handsome and smug. I don't like him."

"Oh, you do?"

"And I'm not interested in doing it. He almost forced me to say I knew him only because we studied at the same high school. Who does that stupid guy think he is! With that obese cat look and girlish hair."

She snorted before going to the glove compartment and pulling out a cigarette. Abi's giggle made him look at her.

"What?"

Her friend denied it without losing her smile.

"And you know what? I'm sure he gave me that check as a token of power. If only you'd seen him, Abi. He's insufferable."

"But he looks handsome in the pictures. Wouldn't you give him a tumble?"

"Oh, yes, I would! He looks tough," she said, amused, drawing a laugh from Abi, who nodded in agreement.

They had stayed up until the early morning hours going through everything that appeared about Franco Baumann on the internet and social media. They stopped until April accidentally liked a picture of him from about two years ago, where he was in Bali.

In it, she was wearing a towel sliding down her hips with a quarrelsome smile that could be worth a lot if she ever chose to go into modeling.

Their laughter and nervous squeals to reverse such a mistake caused their friend, Clara, to reluctantly send them to sleep.

Clara was married, and she rented them one of her two rooms while they got something. However, the continuous arguments with her husband for having diminished the couple's space embarrassed them, and they knew they had to get out of there as soon as possible.

They went to the bank to cash the check and bought everything to complete that month's pantry.

When they arrived at Clara's house, she was gone. She had been running a catering business with her husband, Augusto, for three years. It happened after she was fired from the newspaper where she worked with Livia for exposing a corruption network involving politicians and prominent businessmen in the country.

Clara was not sorry, but Augusto hated Livia for that reason. He accused her of ruining their lives when Clara pressured her to take the photographs. They both lost their jobs because of that decision and couldn't find a new opportunity in another newspaper.

"Let's go get the dresses. I talked to Margo, and she said yes, so you don't have to spend on that."

April came into the shared room, freshly bathed, and sat opposite her.

"What did she ask for in return?"

Livia stopped cleaning one of the extension tubes on one of her cameras to look at her face.

"Nothing important."

But before she could stand up and turn her back, Livia grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

April sighed and, without looking at her, replied:

"I will be one of her aides in a bar that has just opened."

"Abi..."

"I have to work, Livia. Don't worry about it."

"Yes, but she promised you a place in the parade."

"I know, it's just that last time she said I don't have the experience. And she's not willing to risk her prestige for a rookie model."

"I promise I'll help you as soon as I can."

April squeezed her hand firmly, and Livia swallowed hard to undo the lump in her throat.

Margo was Abi's manager, but she'd long hated her because of the photos she'd taken for an article about eating disorders in her models.

"I know," April said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"One day, you'll be the face of MB."

"Now hurry up and stop jerking off those tubes," he joked and laughed when she dropped what was in her hand as if it was burning.

"Silly..." said Livia, pretending to be annoyed, but in reality, she was glad that April was so patient.

She and Clara were her only friends, and every day she wondered why they put up with her despite her problems relating to people and the number of enemies she had made because of her indiscreet lens.

"I swear, if you had a boyfriend, I'd live in jealousy at how much you fiddle with your equipment."

"We'd better go get those dresses, or Clara will kill us if I show up in pants, like last time."

"I wouldn't mind if she left you in the kitchen again," April teased, earning Livia to throw one of her t" shirts in her face.