Scream Come True: Steamy Older Man Younger Woman Romance Read online

  It sent a jolt straight through me, right down to my cock, and I had to clench my fists at my sides to keep from reaching for her again as she turned on her heel and hurried away, slipping into the crowd around us and finally disappearing from my sight completely.

  For a moment, I stood there silently, watching and waiting like I had been for so much of the evening, too overcome to even breathe as I tried to hold onto everything she’d made me feel over those few minutes we’d had together.

  But no.

  The feelings might have lingered on to torture me for a little while longer, but she was gone. In an instant, she’d made my night and everything in it seem complete, seem… perfect.

  And now it was over.

  I don’t know how long I was there. Time seemed to stand still—but then, it always did for me. My life wasn’t measured in minutes or hours or days. Years had passed with the blink of an eye, decades flashed by in a blur.

  That was my life. That’s the way it had been for centuries.

  But now, meeting and then losing Adéle so quickly had made all those years I’d spent without her feel like an eternity. I couldn’t explain it, even in my own mind.

  All I knew for sure was that I needed to see her again.

  “How long are you going to stand here and think about that girl?” Angelique’s voice was like the purr of a cat. A dark, dangerously beautiful cat. “Come back home, Pierre. Let me pour you a drink.” Her slender fingers slipped around my wrist. “Forget her.”

  “No, I won’t forget her. Not anytime soon, anyway.” I pulled my arm away more forcefully than I’d intended, and I could feel her body go tense next to me. She played at being fawning and seductive, but there was a viper under that sleek exterior—and just like the cottonmouth snakes in the bayou, she was always ready to strike.

  “Fine. Have it your way.” Even without looking at her, I knew that she was seething with anger and jealousy, the same way she did anytime she thought another woman had caught my eye.

  Angelique had been with me for years—a secretary, a companion, the chatelaine of my too-large, too-cold, too-lonely townhouse in the French Quarter. She wasn’t a friend, though, and—despite her best efforts—wasn’t a lover, either.

  She wanted what I could give her more than she wanted me, and no amount of flattery or ample cleavage pressed against my arm could mask her ambition.

  Once she’d figured out who I was—what I was—and that it meant eternal life, eternal youth, eternal beauty, there was no stopping her.

  I would’ve sent her away a long time ago, would’ve told her that the gift would twist her, ruin her, turn her into something ugly and mean on the inside, even if it preserved her outer beauty. I would’ve said all those things, but… I was weak.

  It was a lonely existence that I led, and sharing it—even just one small part of it—with someone who knew my secrets was too comforting to just walk away from.

  And so it happened that Angelique and I both endured a complicated relationship that tied us together without any intimacy, a co-dependency that left both of us unsatisfied.

  But we were both too weak—or maybe too strong—to end it.

  “Wait, Angelique.” She had started to walk away, but I caught her arm and spun her to face me. I only paused for a moment when I saw that anger flash in her eyes, though. The anger and the heat that let me know she wanted me to grab her, to be as rough as I dared to be with her. It was unsettling, no matter how many times I’d seen it. “You’re right. We should go home. I’m tired of this party.”

  And even though there was still no chance that I’d forget about my Adéle anytime soon—certainly not that night, at least—there was nothing left for me to do at that party. The lights were suddenly too bright, the voices and raucous laughter suddenly too loud.

  It was time to leave, as quietly and inconspicuously as I’d arrived.

  Then, after a drink by the fire, I could rest. I could sleep.

  I could forget.

  Adele

  All my life, or at least for as long as I could remember, I’d gone to my grandmother’s shop in the French Quarter whenever I’d needed to escape. It didn’t matter what was bothering me or what the problem was, just being in the little voodoo shop—clairvoyant, technically, according to the sign out front—never failed to calm my nerves in a way that nothing else could.

  I sat on the high stool behind the front counter and closed my eyes as I breathed in the incense-heavy air, trying to get my mind off the two men who had been at the center of all my thoughts for the past twenty-four hours.

  “Something is bothering you, child. Do you want to tell me about it?” My grandmother’s voice was calm and soothing, like it always was.

  I liked that she didn’t have to ask me if something was bothering me. She just knew. She would’ve said it was the Loa, the intermediaries of the gods, that let her know my moods and feelings almost as well as I did. And even though I didn’t doubt my grandmother’s gift for the supernatural, I also knew that my confusion and frustration was etched clearly on my face this time.

  “It’s Jean-luc,” I said. “I think we broke up last night.”

  “You’re not sure? Have you asked him?” The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and I could see the faint twinkle of amusement in her eyes. She had never cared much for the fact that I’d fallen so hard and so quickly for Jean-luc, and now she’d have her chance to prove that she’d been right about the match.

  Again.

  I should know better than to question her guidance at this point, but I was stubborn. I’d thought it would be different with Jean-luc than it had been with the other guys in my life.

  Apparently, I’d been wrong.

  Again.

  I didn’t even know what to tell her about the other man. The hot, sexy, mysterious stranger whose touch I hadn’t stopped craving since the moment I’d left the party.

  Pierre.

  I wasn’t sure what she’d say about that encounter, even if I’d known how to describe it. No, that one was best left locked away until enough time had passed that I could forget about it—about him.

  “He made it pretty clear last night,” I said, finally answering her question. “I just… I guess I’m still surprised by the whole thing. I really didn’t see it coming.”

  My grandmother nodded sagely and then raised an eyebrow as the bell above the door jingled, announcing a customer.

  “Speak of the devil,” she murmured, nodding in the direction of the door. “The Loa have brought him to you.”

  My eyes widened as I turned to look, and I couldn’t help but gasp when I saw Jean-luc approaching us, looking much more sheepish and uncertain than he had the night before.

  “Miss Esmé,” he said, nodding respectfully toward my grandmother, “I hope you’re doing well.”

  “As well as can be expected for an old woman,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re here to see Adéle, though, not me.” Again, a statement, a fact, rather than a question. “I’ll leave the two of you for a moment.” She turned and looked at me sternly. “Just for a moment, though.”

  The message was clear: Hear him out and send him on his way.

  I nodded. “Thank you, Grand-maman. I don’t think we’ll be long.”

  Jean-luc and I stayed silent until she had shuffled off to the back room, and then I finally turned to face him again.

  “Did you need something?” I asked, happy that my tone had remained calm and frosty even though my insides were churning.

  “I’m sorry, Adéle.” He reached for me, but dropped his hand mid-way and stuffed it into his pocket instead. “I didn’t mean for last night to happen the way it did. I just got so mad… so… frustrated.”

  “Yeah, I kind of got that,” I said, snorting a little as I rolled my eyes. “And I know I’m not perfect, but damn, Jean-luc. I didn’t deserve to be treated like that—to be left there like that.”

  “No, you didn’t. And again, I’m sorry.” />
  He looked like he meant it. His eyes were red and puffy and bloodshot, and it seemed like he’d done all the crying that I’d felt like doing but hadn’t been able to.

  “So why are you here?” I asked, softening my tone just a little, even if the question was still pretty direct. “Did you just want to apologize?”

  “I needed to apologize, yes.” He nodded. “But I also felt like I owed you a better explanation than I gave you last night.”

  He was right. He did owe me that much. I raised an eyebrow questioningly and waited for him to continue.

  “We don’t work as a couple,” he continued. “It took me a while to figure it out, but it’s pretty clear now, I think. And even though I think there’s enough blame for both of us, I also know it’s because I… I want to see other people—to try… other kinds of relationships.”

  I cocked my head to the side as I processed the words he’d said. None of it came as a particular shock to me—I’d obviously known things weren’t gong great between us, even before last night’s antics—but there was something about the way he’d worded his last sentence that had thrown me off.

  “Other kinds of relationships? You want to see other women?”

  “…And men.” He swallowed hard. “Women, men, women and men… I’m not sure what the exact answer is, but I do know—and can finally admit to you and to myself—that this,” he gestured between us, “this idea of monogamy and how a relationship should traditionally be… it just doesn’t work for me. I tried. I swear I did.”

  I blinked hard, suddenly overwhelmed by emotions that I thought I’d had control over. “I’m glad you were honest with me,” I said, finally, still struggling to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I know that wasn’t an easy thing for you to say, and I appreciate that. And I…” I shrugged a little, not sure what, exactly, I should say. “I hope you find happiness, whatever that looks like for you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, looking like he might start crying, too. “That means a lot to me. I promise that I never meant for things to end up like this. I—”

  My grandmother cleared her throat as she emerged again from the back. True to her word, only a couple of minutes had passed.

  “Is everything okay up here?” Her eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the concern there. She could no doubt tell that I was nearly in tears.

  “We’re good,” I said. “Jean-luc was just…”

  “Just leaving,” he said, finishing for me. “Thank you, Adéle, for listening and… for understanding.” He attempted a smile, but it came across as more of a grimace. Then, turning to my grandmother, “Take care, Miss Esmé.”

  She nodded, and he left without another word.

  Once the door had closed behind him and we were alone again, she turned to me. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I’m actually better now than I was. At least I can sort of understand why he was so unhappy now.”

  It was true. And even though I still didn’t feel good about the situation, I did still care for him and did honestly hope he found happiness.

  “Okay.” She sighed. “I think you need something to take your mind off him. Something to keep your hands busy and you mind occupied.”

  I waited, knowing that she had just the “something” in mind already.

  “There’s a cleaning job that I’ve booked. New client, big townhouse, good money. Go there and do a good job. It’ll be a good paycheck for both of us.”

  I stifled a groan. Spending the evening cleaning someone else’s house wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time, but she was probably right about needing something to keep me distracted. And I knew we could both use the money.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to sound upbeat. “I’ll do it. When and where?”

  “Tonight, and I’ll get the address.”

  Great. Tonight. Perfect.

  I shut down my inner sarcasm and smiled. “Sounds good. I think it’ll help to clear my head.”

  It wasn’t a lie. And even though I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the job, a few hours of work might actually help my state of mind.

  It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  I’d been able to tell from the address my grandmother had given me that her client’s townhouse was in a good neighborhood—a really good neighborhood, actually. But I hadn’t been prepared for how… intimidating the place would be, especially with the setting sun casting the whole place in deep shadows and dark, muted colors.

  I also hadn’t expected to climb a whole damn staircase outside, before I even got to the building, but there I was, lugging my caddy of cleaning supplies up at least a dozen thick, stone steps that led to a porch covered with a dark, blood-red awning.

  Thank God I wasn’t wearing my stripper-tastic heels from the night before. Still, I was a little more winded than I probably should’ve been by the time I got to the top step and looked up at the large double doors in front of me.

  The whole place looked old—stately, though, not run-down—but even the front doors were works of art. Dark and heavy-looking, with ornate brass handles that were covered in scroll-work and guarded by two of the most life-like gargoyle heads I’d ever seen.

  And that was saying something, coming from a girl who’d grown up in a voodoo shop…

  I looked around for a doorbell, but nope. Just a big brass knocker coming out of the mouth of yet another gargoyle’s leering face. I really didn’t want to touch it, but there didn’t seem to be any other way to let whoever was on the other side of that big-ass door know I was there.

  Don’t be silly. It’s just metal. Brass and wood. A door, for God’s sake.

  Not the best pep-talk I’d ever come up with, but it was enough to get me to lift my hand and use the knocker. I winced a little as I heard the loud pounding echo through what I imagined to be a hallway the size of a cathedral.

  Pretty sure a person would be able to hear that sound no matter where they were in that big house. Hopefully nobody was sleeping.

  I’d barely let my hand drop back to my side when one of the big doors swung open, and I could feel my eyes go wide as my mouth dropped open.

  “Good evening,” the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen purred. Her voice was low and husky, the kind of voice that probably drove men crazy, no matter what she happened to be saying. God, I was almost turned on just hearing her greet me. “You’re the cleaner?”

  I nodded and swallowed hard, holding up my little caddy of supplies as if she might need some kind of proof. She eyed me for several long seconds before frowning slightly and stepping aside and motioning for me to enter.

  Being self-conscious about my looks wasn’t normally something I had patience with. I knew I probably wasn’t a solid ten, but I damn sure wasn’t ugly, so I did the best I could with what God had given me. Usually that worked out just fine for me. But standing there in faded jeans and an old t-shirt while this beauty queen stared at me as if I was some kind of bug?

  Yeah, I had to admit that was a little much.

  And then, as if Miss Universe wasn’t intimidating enough, there was the house. My suspicions of the entry hall being large enough to house a cathedral were confirmed as soon as I stepped inside. Even the relatively soft sound of my shoes on the polished tile floor was enough to echo through the cavernous space.

  “You can start in here,” she said, gesturing to the right, toward what might be called a living room in a regular house, but was probably a parlor or a drawing room or something much more grand here in this house.

  I nodded and hurried inside the impossibly large room, half-expecting her to follow and watch to make sure I didn’t break anything or touch anything or whatever, but when I dared to turn my head and sneak a peek at her, she was gone. I cocked my head to the side and could hear the click, clack of her heels on the tile as she walked back down the hallway.

  If the point of sending me on this job had been to ease my nerves and give me some mindless task to pa
ss the time, it wasn’t working. It might have actually been one of the ultra-rare times when my grandma’s advice had completely missed the mark.

  And the place wasn’t even dirty—not even close, really. I rummaged through my supply caddy and pulled out a cloth to dust with, hoping that I’d be able to find a surface that actually needed the attention.

  As I was bent down and looking through the supplies, I could feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I knew I was being watched. I could sense her there, staring at me, probably judging me.

  I tried to stay focused on what I was doing, tried to keep my mind clear and my breathing regular, even though my heart was already beating so loudly it probably echoed down that long-ass hallway.

  Except… shouldn’t I have heard her come back down that hallway? I’d heard her walk away, the sound of expensive high heels on even more expensive tile had been impossible to ignore. But I hadn’t heard the noise again—or any other noise, for that matter—in the quiet moments that had passed since then.

  God, this weird old place is starting to get to me. She’s probably not even there at all. I’m probably just freaking out over nothing. It’s probably just—

  Whatever thoughts had been in my head or words that had been trying to form in my throat completely died when I turned and glanced behind me in a half-self-conscious, half-annoyed attempt to put my mind at ease.

  My eyes widened and I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I sucked in a sharp breath and again tried to speak, but… nothing.

  Even the thought that I must have looked like a caught fish, silently struggling to breathe on the end of a hook wasn’t enough to jar me into action.

  “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon,” his deep voice had just a hint of playfulness, and the sound of it was finally enough to dislodge me from my crouching position.

  “Pierre,” I gasped, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you… is this your…”