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Franco Baumann returned to fulfill his promise to avenge his father's death. The pain accompanying him is a great incentive to take his next step, and he only wants to see those who hurt him suffer. Livia Ávalos is his next target. But the attraction they discover in each other will bring consequences... they both realize they are playing 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.
"Mr. Evans, please maintain some dignity. Don't forget I'm your brother's wife!" Having caught her husband and best friend together in the bed, Elena wanted nothing more than to exact revenge on the people she once called family. She refused to be a pitiful divorcee and vowed to make everyone who had once looked down on her beg for forgiveness. And to start with her newfound freedom, Elena indulges in a one-night stand with a stranger. However, what was meant to be a fleeting escape turns into a nightmare when she learns that the stranger is none other than her husband's older brother! Would Elena be free from the shackles of her marriage? Or would the mysterious stranger make her life a living hell since he seemed to have a personal vendetta against his family? [The story is 18+ and involves mature content.]
Rosalynn's marriage to Brian wasn't what she envisioned it to be. Her husband, Brian, barely came home. He avoided her like a plague. Worse still, he was always in the news for dating numerous celebrities. Rosalynn persevered until she couldn't take it anymore. She upped and left after filing for a divorce. Everything changed days later. Brian took interest in a designer that worked for his company anonymously. From her profile, he could tell that she was brilliant and dazzling. He pulled the stops to find out her true identity. Little did he know that he was going to receive the greatest shocker of his life. Brian bit his finger with regret when he recalled his past actions and the woman he foolishly let go.
Darya spent three years loving Micah, worshipping the ground he walked on. Until his neglect and his family's abuse finally woke her up to the ugly truth-he doesn't love her. Never did, never will. To her, he is a hero, her knight in shining armour. To him, she is an opportunist, a gold digger who schemed her way into his life. Darya accepts the harsh reality, gathers the shattered pieces of her dignity, divorces him, takes back her real name, reclaims her title as the country's youngest billionaire heiress. Their paths cross again at a party. Micah watches his ex-wife sing like an angel, tear up the dance floor, then thwart a lecher with a roundhouse kick. He realises, belatedly, that she's exactly the kind of woman he'd want to marry, if only he had taken the trouble to get to know her. Micah acts promptly to win her back, but discovers she's now surrounded by eligible bachelors: high-powered CEO, genius biochemist, award-winning singer, reformed playboy. Worse, she makes it pretty clear that she's done with him. Micah gears up for an uphill battle. He must prove to her he's still worthy of her love before she falls for someone else. And time is running out.
Anabel found out she was pregnant and dialed her husband's number to share the good news to him. They have been married for two years without a child. Desmond's mother had been accusing her of being barren and unproductive. When the call was picked, she was flabbergasted and broken. She was hearing a loud moan of feminine voice. "Ohh! Yeah! Don't stop fucking me! Fuck me harder baby!" accompanied with sound of skins slapping against the other. She went home to confront her husband and end up receiving a divorce paper. Desmond divorced him for a lady his mother was rooting. Few months later when he found out that his ex-wife is a billionaire heiress and she is pregnant with twins, he went crazy!
Betrayed by her mate and sister on the eve of her wedding, Makenna was handed to the ruthless Lycan Princes as a lover, her indifferent father ignoring her plight. Determined to escape and seek revenge, she captured the interest of the three Lycan princes, who desired her exclusively amid many admirers. This complicated her plans, trapping her and making her a rival to the future Lycan queen. Entwined in jealousy and vindictiveness, could Makenna achieve her vengeance in the intricate dance with the three princes?
Veronica is an eighteen-year-old omega who falls into an emotional breakdown when her Mate, who was soon to be the Alpha of the Sun crest pack, turns against her, hurls hurtful words at her, and rejects her on the night of the full moon festival because he and everyone in the pack, including her, thinks she is an omega. As if the pain of rejection, helplessness, and worthlessness wasn't enough, she lost her best and only friend to the cold hands of death when rogue wolves attacked their pack. Right in the presence of her mate, she was tagged as someone who always attracted problems and calamities anywhere she went and he turned a blind eye and watched as she was banished from the pack. With hatred for her life, she runs deep into the woods that were off-limits and jumps off to end her life, but in a turn of events, something else happens. What would her mate do when he finds out that Veronica is not who he thinks she is? Will she be able to forgive him? What fate lies ahead for them?