Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

“ Oui .” She pushed her chair out and looked at Bella and Tallulah. “ Allez les filles .”

Daphne was on her second cup of coffee when Amber’s full English breakfast arrived, and she dug into it with gusto.

“You have quite an appetite this morning,” Daphne commented.

Amber looked up from her plate. She realized that she and Jackson had never eaten last night. It had been the last thing on their minds.

“I’m absolutely famished. I hate dinner business meetings. Your food gets cold while you talk, and then it’s completely unappetizing.”

“I’m sorry you had to work and miss the ballet. It was superb.”

“Me too. I would much rather have done that.”

Daphne absently stirred her coffee for a moment before speaking.

“Amber.” Her voice was low and serious. “I need to talk to you about something that’s been bothering me.”

Amber put down her knife and fork. “What is it, Daph?”

“It’s about Jackson.”

Amber pushed down the panic threatening to rise. “What about Jackson?” she said, her face a mask.

“I really do think he’s seeing someone.”

“Did you talk to Bree?”

“I know it has nothing to do with Bree. She’s gay — I met her partner at a party we attended recently. I’m so glad I never went to the office and accused her. But he’s been very distant lately. He’s spending most of the week at the apartment in New York. He never used to do that. Maybe a night here and there, but it was the exception. Now it seems to be the rule. And even when he’s home, he’s not really there. His mind is always somewhere else.” She put her hand on Amber’s arm. “And we haven’t made love in weeks and weeks.”

Nothing could have pleased Amber more. So he wasn’t sleeping with Daphne any longer. It didn’t surprise her. She made sure she left him satisfied in every way possible.

“I’m sure you’re wrong,” she said, putting her hand on Daphne’s. “He’s closing on that huge project in Hong Kong, and it’s been brutal. Plus, the time difference between here and there has him on calls at all hours. He’s totally exhausted and consumed by it. You have nothing to worry about. As soon as this deal closes, he’ll be back to normal. Trust me.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.” Amber smiled. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open and let you know if anything looks suspicious.”

“I’d appreciate that. I knew I could count on you.”

Amber joined them later on the boat ride down the Thames to Greenwich, and together they wended their way up the big hill to the Royal Observatory. They ate lunch in the town and strolled around most of the afternoon, also visiting the National Maritime Museum. By the time they got back to the hotel, Bella and Tallulah were fading and ready for naps. Amber was feeling like she could use a quick nap too, and they all went to their rooms to rest. Amber was out in seconds, and when she awoke, it was six o’clock. She called the suite to see what the plan was for dinner.

“Did you get some rest?” Daphne asked when she picked up.

“I did. How about you?”

“Yes, we all slept. I’ve been up for a while, but Tallulah and Bella just got up. The girls are eating in tonight.” Daphne’s voice got a little softer. “I think you must be right. Jackson wants a romantic dinner, just the two of us. He apologized for all the nights away and his preoccupation with work. I should have known you were right. Thank you for setting me straight.”

“You’re welcome.” Amber’s voice was strangled. What the hell was he playing at? A romantic dinner with Daphne? After he had made love to Amber that morning?

Daphne’s voice startled her. “Thanks again. See you tomorrow.”

Amber put the phone down and sat on the bed, stewing. She was furious. Did he think he could just use her and then run back to Daphne? She heard her mother’s words, repeated so often that Amber remembered wanting to stuff a rag in her mouth. Don’t be someone’s trash can. What a vile admonition, Amber had always thought when she heard her mother say it. But that’s precisely what she felt like now.

She was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard knocking at her door.

She opened it, and Jackson slid in. He looked at her, a puzzled expression forming.

“Are you going out?”

She smiled, put one leg on the bed, pulled up a sheer stocking, and clipped it to her garter.

“Daphne told me that you had plans, so I called an old friend, and we’re meeting for drinks.”

“What old friend?”

She shrugged. “Just an old boyfriend. I called my mom earlier today, and she told me he’d moved here a few years ago with his wife,” she lied.

Jackson sat on the bed, still looking at her.

“Poor thing, he just got divorced. I thought he could use some cheering up.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Don’t be silly. He’s ancient history.”

He grabbed both her hands in his and pushed her backward until she was against the wall. Kissing her hungrily, he moved his body against hers and lifted her skirt above her thighs. Standing up and half undressed, they made love with urgency, and when they were finished, Jackson pulled her to the bed to sit beside him.

“Cancel on him,” he said.

“You can’t expect me to sit alone in this hotel room while you’re out with Daphne. Besides, don’t you trust me?”

He stood from the bed, his face red, his hands balled into fists, and glared at her. “I don’t want you going out with another man.” He pulled a box from his pocket. “This is for you.”

He handed it to her, and when she opened it, there sat a magnificent diamond bracelet.

“Wow,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Thank you! Will you put it on me?” She gave him a long kiss. “I suppose I could cancel if it bothers you that much. How long will your dinner take?”

“I’ll make it quick. Meet you back here in two hours.”

The bracelet was the most amazing piece of jewelry she’d ever seen. And it was hers. All hers. She turned slowly and, never taking her eyes from Jackson, began to undress. When she was finally wearing nothing but the bracelet, she walked over to him and purred, “Hurry back, and then I’ll show you how very grateful your girl is.”

After he left, she pulled out her phone and took a selfie — a very erotic selfie. She waited an hour, knowing he’d be in the middle of dinner, then texted it to him. That ought to have him calling for the check.

Amber delighted in soaking in Daphne’s bathtub, more often than not with Jackson. She luxuriated in the soft-as-silk sheets as she lay next to Daphne’s husband and drove him mad with lust. And how liberating it was to know that no matter how many towels she used, no matter how mussed the sheets became, no matter how many glasses of wine or dishes of food she consumed, she could walk out the door in the morning and know the maid would have everything spick-and-span when she and Jackson returned in the evening. The doorman nodded politely to her on arrival and departure, a model of discretion, just like the new maid. Matilda, the old one, had been fired. Apparently she’d stolen some of Daphne’s jewelry. The same jewelry that Amber had hocked for a little extra cash.

The night before, they’d gone to an art opening at a small gallery on Twenty-Fifth Street. The artist, Eric Fury, was one Jackson had discovered a few years ago and had introduced to his collector friends. The moment they’d entered the gallery, they had been surrounded. It’d been clear not only that Jackson was well known but also that people wanted to be in the orbit of his power and charm. Amber had been careful not to put her arm in his or appear too intimate.