Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

Jackson frowned, and Amber knew immediately that she’d made a mistake. She never should have mentioned her. Now he was probably thinking about Daphne and the girls. Damn. She usually didn’t make that kind of slipup. She’d have to try to recover.

“I’ve been thinking,” he finally said. “How would you feel about having your own apartment in New York?”

She was nonplussed. “Why would I want that? I like living in Connecticut. Besides, when I want to stay in New York with you, we have your place.”

“But it’s getting complicated. If you had your own apartment, you could have all your own things there. You wouldn’t have to hide your clothes or make sure they’re out of my apartment in case Daphne comes into the city.”

She didn’t want her own place. She wanted Daphne’s place.

When she didn’t answer, Jackson went on. “I’d buy it for you, of course. We’d furnish it together, buy all the art and books you love. It would be our own hideaway. Just ours.”

Their hideaway. She didn’t want to be hidden. She wanted to be very much out in the open, to be Mrs. Jackson Parrish.

“I don’t know, Jackson. It might be too soon for something like that. Besides, wouldn’t Daphne wonder how I got the money for a New York apartment? And what about Gregg? I’ve been able to hold him off, but if he thinks I’m a New York sophisticate, I won’t be able to play the innocent little girl. And we have to keep up that little charade for Daphne’s sake — although I’m having more and more trouble keeping Gregg’s hands off me. I’ve stopped him a couple of times before he could finish what I think was going to be a proposal.”

Jackson’s face grew red, just as Amber had hoped. “Have you slept with him?”

“Really? Are you serious?” She took the napkin from her lap and threw it on the table. “I’m finished.” She rose from her chair and strode into the bedroom. She wasn’t going to be cast aside again. It felt like her plans were all going awry. Oh, Jackson was under her spell at the moment, and he was buying her expensive things and taking her on fabulous trips, but she wanted more — much more. And she’d be damned if she was going to let anything stand in her way, especially now that she’d missed two periods.

Tonight was the night. Amber was now ten weeks pregnant and couldn’t hide it much longer. Jackson thought she was on the pill, and she’d even made sure to get a prescription and take a pill out of the dispenser each day so he wouldn’t be suspicious. Then she’d flush it. The only medication she was taking was Clomid, for fertility. She probably didn’t need it, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She needed to get pregnant before he tired of her. She had been a little worried about twins, but then she figured, if one was good, two would be even better.

She’d hoped to find out the sex at the last appointment, but it was apparently still too soon. With the computer skills she’d honed in months of night classes, she’d been able to doctor the image from the ultrasound, so she’d tell him it was a boy. By the time they were married, if she ended up having a girl, it would be too late for him to do anything about it anyway.

She’d gone to Babesta earlier in the day and bought a bib—“Daddy’s little boy”—that she planned to give him tonight after they made love. Then he’d finally leave Daphne, and she could drop the facade and stop pretending to be her friend. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Daphne’s face when she found out that Amber was pregnant. It would be almost as delicious as telling Bella she wouldn’t be the youngest anymore. Move over, baby, you’re old news now .

Once she was Mrs. Parrish, those two brats were on borrowed time. They could go to community college as far as she was concerned. But she was getting ahead of herself; first, she had to convince Jackson to leave them.

When Jackson arrived at the apartment, Amber was wearing a black leather corset and collar. Daphne had complained to her on a recent night out that Jackson’s tastes were becoming more unconventional. When she’d pressed for more details, the prude had turned red and mentioned something about restraints. Amber had decided to test the waters, and what she’d found was that Jackson was craving more adventure in the sack. She’d gladly given it to him, and together they’d scoured a few online stores and ordered all sorts of interesting sex toys. She encouraged him to push the limits, was ready to do whatever she had to, to make him compare Daphne unfavorably to her. She kept all their toys in a drawer in the guest room, half hoping Daphne might snoop when she was there and Amber could have a nice laugh at her expense. But Daphne never mentioned anything to her.

“That was amazing.” She nuzzled closer to him. “If I were Daphne, I’d never let you out of my bed.” She bit his earlobe.

“I don’t want to talk about Daphne,” he whispered.

She giggled. “She likes to talk about you.”

He sat up, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just little wifely complaints. No big deal.”

“I want to know. What did she say?” There was a hard edge to his voice.

She slid back so she could see his face, her finger tracing a pattern on his chest as she spoke. “Just stuff about how she’s at a point in her life when she wants to chill out, and you’re always pushing her to socialize. Said she’d rather stay home and watch old Law & Order reruns. I told her she was lucky to go places with you, but she just shook her head and said she was getting too old for all these dinners and galas keeping her out late.” It was a total lie, but so what. He’d never know.

She watched his face to see how he reacted, pleased to see his jaw clench.

“I don’t appreciate the two of you discussing me.” He slid from the bed and threw on his silk robe.

Amber went to him, still naked, and pressed herself against him. “We don’t talk about you, I promise. She just complains and I defend you, then change the subject. I adore you, you know that.” She hoped he believed that.

His eyes narrowed. He didn’t look convinced.

She changed her approach. “I think Daphne’s out of her element. You’re so brilliant and accomplished. You know all about art and culture, and she… well, she’s just kind of a simple girl. It’s hard to keep up the pretense.”

“I suppose,” he said.

“Come back to bed. I have a surprise.”

He shook his head. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go to the living room. I have a present for you.” She grabbed his hand.

He yanked it back from her. “Stop telling me what to do. You’re starting to sound like a nagging wife.”

She felt tears of rage spring to her eyes. How dare he talk to her like that? She swallowed her anger and made her voice sweet. It wouldn’t do to let him see how pissed she was. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll get it myself.”

She didn’t follow him, but sat down and forced herself to read a magazine, then another to give him some time to cool off. After about an hour, she retrieved the small gold bag with the bib from inside the closet and carried it into the living room. He was sitting in one of the dining room chairs, still brooding.

“Here you go.”

“What is it?”

“Open it, silly.”

He moved aside the tissue paper and pulled out the bib. He looked up at her, puzzled.

She took his hand and put it on her belly. “Your baby is in here.”

His mouth dropped open. “You’re pregnant? With a boy?”

She nodded. “Yes. I couldn’t believe it myself. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. There’s something else in there.”