Playing With Fire (R-18)

Chapter 3

Trust your intuition.

That's it. Because I trusted my intuition so much, from one client, it became two, three, until I reached six readings today. A whirlwind of love triangles, career anxieties, and existential crises—all channeled through my trusty tarot deck.

Everything flowed smoothly—partly because there was a man in the kitchen who was quiet but clearly watching me like a hawk. His presence was a steady hum beneath the surface of my readings, a comforting anchor in the sea of swirling emotions.

He even brought me snacks, drinks, and a glass of water every time my throat got dry, anticipating my needs with an uncanny awareness. Normally, when there's a disturbance during my readings, I turn into a dragon. My toyo reaches the clouds. I become a force of nature, unleashing my wrath on anyone who dares to interrupt my flow.

But today? It was different. I felt strangely calm, grounded, even… nurtured.

My normie friends were right. I was lacking in... well, companionship. Human connection. A warm body to share my space with.

I glanced at Vios again. He was sitting at the counter, hunched over his laptop, but there was a slight smile on his lips, as if he knew I was thinking about him. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his features, highlighting the curve of his jaw and the playful glint in his eyes.

And then, as if on cue, he looked up and—winked. A casual, confident wink that sent a jolt of electricity through me.

Jusmio Marimar. Holy Mother of God.

I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting the urge to throw a tarot card at his face. But I couldn't help but laugh. There was a spark of kilig, a flutter of excitement in my chest that I hadn't felt in ages.

I turned back to my client, who was crying on the call because of her label-less situationship. Her voice was a whiny drone in my ears, a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of Vios.

"Miss Tori," she sniffled. "I don't know what to do anymore. I can't focus on work because I'm always thinking about him."

I took a deep breath, shuffled my deck, and laid out six cards: Two of Cups, Seven of Swords, Five of Cups, The Tower, The World, Three of Swords. A disastrous spread.

"It's only fun at first…" I said slowly, watching her reaction. "Then he'll cheat. He'll replace you. And you're imported, mind you. But guess what? You'll still curse. You'll be sad. You'll feel like your world is collapsing. But girl, it just takes getting used to. Break up with him. Repeat next season if you want to." My voice was laced with a brutal honesty, a tough-love approach that my clients both feared and craved.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vios, frozen and listening to my brutal reading—obviously enjoying my savage take. His eyes sparkled with amusement, and a slow grin spread across his face.

"M-Miss Tori…" my client stammered, her voice trembling. "You're right again. It always repeats." The realization dawned on her, a painful acceptance of the cyclical nature of her toxic relationship.

I comforted her a bit, gave her a few tips on self-care, before we said goodbye. I offered her a virtual hug, sending her positive energy through the screen.

Finally, I was done. I was so hungry. My stomach growled in protest, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since yesterday.

When I came out of the living area, the dining table was full of food—sinigang na spareribs, ginisang gulay, and leche flan for dessert. A feast fit for a queen. The aroma filled the air, making my mouth water.

I stretched to release the toxic energy of the last session before arranging the cards, carefully placing them back in their deck.

"Madam," Vios called, already sitting at the table, looking like he was in a soy sauce commercial. His posture was perfect, his expression inviting, and the warm lighting highlighted the strength of his features. "Are you really that harsh with your clients?"

I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Depends on the spread. If the cards are toxic, I need to be harsh to shake them up." To shock them out of their complacency.

He smirked, his eyes flicking down to my legs, a lingering glance that sent a shiver of awareness through me. "I know you don't have shorts on." His voice was a low murmur, a playful challenge.

I raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. "I know you know."

"I know you know that I know, Madam." He grinned again, maddeningly smug.

"Don't push it," I warned, but my lips twitched, betraying my amusement.

"So, s*x advice is included in your service?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress a smile. "You really listen to my sessions."

"Just a little. I can't resist hearing that you always know who's lying." His voice was laced with admiration, a genuine appreciation for my skills.

"You mean my client who doesn't want to be called the third party?"

He nodded, his expression thoughtful.

"Besides the overflowing attention she's getting from General Loverboy," I said, sipping my water, "I feel like they've tried every position in the Kama Sutra. I don't want to think about it, but she's the one telling me these things." I shuddered, a wave of unwanted images flooding my mind.

Vios looked half-shocked, half-turned-on by my bluntness. His eyes widened, and a flush crept up his neck.

"And I can't help but see things when I read for her. Literal." I groaned, rubbing my temples. "It's the middle of the day, but I'm thinking about things that belong in the bedroom."

"You're really good at it," he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes fixed on me. "Even last night. How can I forget what you did to me?" His voice was a husky whisper, a reminder of the intimate connection we had shared.

My cheeks heated at the memory, a blush creeping up my neck.

I stood up and walked past him to get my plate, needing to create some distance between us.

"You see, it was my first time sleeping at a stranger's house," I said, sitting across from him, trying to sound casual. "We were both tipsy. And yes, I woke up naked in your bed. I don't know what curse was cast last night."

"And yet you sound so casual about it," he murmured, resting his chin on his palm, his eyes never leaving mine. "First time—meaning you don't sleep around?"

Instead of getting mad, I shrugged, feigning indifference. "I don't know what came over me. You kissed me, I kissed you back, then boom—fireworks." I snapped my fingers, trying to capture the explosive energy of our encounter.

"I don't sleep around either," he said, his voice serious this time. "That's why I was curious about you. You're easy to talk to, Madam." His words were a genuine compliment, a recognition of the connection we had forged.

"Toben is a college friend," I said quickly, needing to explain my presence in his apartment. "We just have this weird connection, so I say yes to whatever he asks."

"That's why you came over last night," he said slowly, his eyes narrowing just a bit, as if piecing together the puzzle. "I was wondering if you were possessed or if you cast a spell on me."

"Spell?" I snorted, rolling my eyes. "That was the spirit of the alcohol, not me. You were the one who initiated the kiss."

He looked half-amused, half-innocent. "Did I? Really? I don't just kiss anyone." His expression was a playful challenge, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Oh really?" I smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What was that last night? A flying kiss?"

He laughed, low and warm, that laugh that made my stomach flip, a sound that resonated deep within me.

"You were worth kissing," he said simply, his eyes locking with mine.

And there it was—that heat again, curling in my stomach, threatening to consume me.

Before it went too far, he reached over and put another piece of sparerib on my plate, breaking the spell.

"Eat up, Madam," he said softly, his voice laced with concern. "You might lose energy. We can talk about your magic later—unless you want to repeat last night." His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint.

"Don't tempt me." I stabbed the meat with my fork, glaring at him—but my lips were fighting a smile.

"Who says I'm tempting?" He winked again, maddeningly smug. "Maybe I just want to see what your intuition tells you… about me." His words were a challenge, an invitation to delve deeper into the mysteries of his soul.