The Darkest Temptation (Made 3)

Madame Richie took a seat at the round table in the corner and assessed me with a long look. “Ah, I do think I remember your face.”

I stared at her, unimpressed. “I would hope so. Because I won’t forget you for the rest of my life.”

“This is doing vonders for my ego.” She seemed genuinely pleased as she gestured to the chair across from her with her smoking cigarette. “Have a seat.”

I hesitated. This woman was a ghost who’d followed me around for years, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to sit down with a phantom.

Her dark, painted-on brow rose. “You vant refund. You sit.”

The last time I stood here, I was a naïve fourteen-year-old cheerleader. Madame Richie may have given my young brain something to soak up like a sponge, but I wasn’t the same girl anymore. And I wanted my refund, damnit, so I slid into the chair across from her.

“You vill have to remind me vhat I foretold for you.”

“You said I would find the man meant for me and that he would take my breath away.”

She blinked false lashes. And then she laughed, head thrown back in pure amusement, cigarette perched between her fingers. Her laugh didn’t disturb me this time. It raised my ire as she laughed so hard a tear ran down her cheek. Because the suspicion I always had flashed in front of me like a neon sign.

I clenched my teeth. “I knew it! I knew that was one of your generic responses.”

Suddenly, she sobered, though still fighting her amusement as she wiped the tear away with sun-wrinkled fingers. “I plead the fifth.”

“Of course you do,” I grumbled.

She ashed her cigarette into a coffee cup. “I cannot offer you refund. But since I have distressed you, I can give you another reading.”

I scowled. “Are you crazy? Why would I want another reading when the last one wasn’t even genuine, and it also ruined my life?”

“How do you know it vas not genuine if it has distressed you so? It may have been fate.”

Fate. Please. Madame Richie just got lucky.

She inhaled, and smoke whispered from her lips with the words. “That is the deal. Take it or leave it.”

I wanted closure from this visit.

I wanted to leave without her laughter over my head.

“I suggest you take it,” she said. “I do think I see great things in your future.”

Madame Richie was dangling a carrot on a string. Or rather, a piece of dog poop. But I guessed I was in such an awkward place in my life, I was interested to hear what generic foretelling she would come up with.

“Fine,” I answered, but then I narrowed my eyes. “But no laughing. Not a single chuckle,” I warned seriously.

It was clear she wanted to do exactly that, but she held it in by pressing her thin lips together. “Let us begin then.”

She moved the cloth-covered crystal ball to the center of the table and pulled off the cover with a flourish. She sure knew how to play the part.

She took a long look at me, then peered in to the ball with concentration. Tilted her head. No smoke appeared like it did last time. She probably didn’t have time to prep her parlor tricks since I’d arrived unexpectedly.

Lifting her head, she inhaled on her cigarette and deadpanned, “You are pregnant.”

I stared at her drily. “If I was pregnant, my stomach would be nearly as big as a basketball right now.”

She pursed her lips. “Could be small baby.”

“No.” Ronan’s baby? Yeah, right.

“Vorth a shot.” She shrugged.