Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

“I’ll have another Bowmore, and a Campari and soda for my wife.”

I was about to protest — I’d never even tasted Campari — but I choked back the words before they escaped. It would be best to let whatever plan he had concocted play itself out.

“Meredith asked that we get to the restaurant by seven so we don’t run into Rand. She wants him to be surprised.”

Jackson arched a brow. “I’m sure the bill will be surprise enough.”

I laughed dutifully, then looked at my watch. “We’ve got about half an hour, and then we’d better get going.”

The bartender placed the drink in front of me.

Jackson lifted his glass. “Cheers, darling.” He toasted me with such force that my drink ended up all over the front of my champagne-colored dress, now splashed with red.

“Oh dear, look what you’ve done.” He didn’t even try to hide his smirk.

Heat spread to my cheeks, and I took a deep breath, willing myself not to cry. Meredith was going to be so disappointed. I looked at him with no change in expression. “What now?”

He threw his hands up. “Well, obviously you can’t turn up to the restaurant like that.” He shook his head. “If only your dress were darker, or if you weren’t such a klutz.”

If only you were dead , I wanted to answer.

He called for the check. “We’ll have to go to the apartment and get you changed. Of course, by the time we do that, it’ll be too late to make it in time for the surprise.”

I forced my mind to go blank and followed him numbly from the bar. We got into the limo, and he ignored me while reading e-mails on his phone. I pulled my phone out and texted my apologies to Meredith.

Because of traffic, it took over forty-five minutes for us to get there. I smiled at the doorman, and we rode the elevator in silence. I went to the bedroom, threw the dress on the floor, and stood looking at the closet. I felt him before I heard him — his breath on my neck, then his lips on my back.

I suppressed the urge to scream. “Sweetheart, we don’t have time.”

His mouth traveled down my back, to the top of my panties. He slid them off and cupped my buttocks with his hands. He moved closer, and I realized he’d taken off his pants. I could feel him hard against me.

“There’s always time for this.”

His hands moved to cup my breasts, then he grabbed my hands and placed them flat against the wall, his pressed on top of them. I braced myself as he took me, hard and rough, moving into a frenzied crescendo. It was over within minutes.

I went into the bathroom to clean myself up, and when I emerged, my black Versace was hanging on the bedroom door. I grabbed it and laid it on the bed.

“Hold on,” he said, walking toward me. “Wear this underneath.”

It was a black Jean Yu thong with a matching strapless bra. He’d had it made to order for me, and it felt amazing — like a silk caress — but the sight of it only reminded me of what he’d done before he gave it to me. I took it from him though, and gave him my best imitation of a smile.

“Thank you.”

He insisted upon dressing me, pulling the stockings up my legs, stopping every few moments to brush his lips against my skin as he did so.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay home and let me ravish you again?” He gave me a rakish smile.

Did he really believe I had any desire for him? I licked my lips. “As tempting as that sounds, we did promise. And Randolph is an old friend.”

He sighed. “Yes, of course, you’re right.” He zipped my dress and tapped me on the behind. “Let’s go, then.”

When I turned around, he looked me up and down. “It’s lucky you spilled your drink — that one’s much better on you anyway.”

By the time we arrived, an hour and a half later, everyone was just nibbling on the passed appetizers. I gave Meredith an apologetic look as we rushed over to greet her.

“I’m so sorry we’re late—”

“Yes,” Jackson cut in, “I tried to tell her we were running behind, but she insisted on squeezing in a massage. It put us behind about an hour.” He shrugged.

Meredith’s face registered shock, and she turned to me, hurt obvious in her eyes. “Why did you text me that you spilled something on your dress and had to go home and change?”

I stood there, paralyzed by indecision. If I told her the truth, I’d have to contradict Jackson. Public humiliation would bring a heavy price. But now my good friend thought I’d lied to her just so I could indulge in some pampering.

“I’m sorry, Mer. It was both. I had a pulled muscle, I spilled…” I stumbled on my words. Jackson watched me, an amused smile on his face. “What I mean, is that, yes, I did get a massage — my back was really bothering me — but we still would have made it in time if I hadn’t spilled my drink all over myself like an idiot. I’m really sorry.”

Jackson shook his head and smiled at Meredith. “You know how clumsy our little Daphne can be. I’m always telling her to be more careful.”

When I first met Amber, I could never have imagined that she would become someone I depended on. I’ll admit, my first impression was of a somewhat homely and meek young woman with little to interest me except for the fact that she’d experienced a similar heartache. Her grief seemed so raw and fresh that it helped me put my own pain on the back burner to help her. I wanted to make it all better, to give her a reason to wake up in the morning.

Looking back, I suppose I should have seen the signs. But I was eager for a friend, a true friend. No, that’s not quite right. I was desperate for a sister — for my sister, which was of course, impossible. The next best thing was a friend who’d suffered the same loss I had. It’s bad enough to lose a sibling, but to watch one die a little each day — there’s no explaining that to someone who hasn’t experienced it. So when Amber appeared so unexpectedly in my life, she felt like a gift. I had no one in my life that I could trust. Jackson had done his job well, isolating me from everyone in my past and erecting impenetrable walls around my life. None of my friends knew the reality of my marriage or my life. But with Amber, I could share genuine emotion. Even Jackson couldn’t do anything about that.

The flowering friendship made him nervous — he didn’t like for me to see any of my friends more than once every few weeks unless, of course, he was there. When I’d asked him to find a job for her at Parrish, he’d been indignant at first.

“Come on, Daphne. Isn’t this little charity act wearing thin yet? What could you possibly have in common with that frumpy mouse?”

“You know what we have in common.”

He rolled his eyes. “Give it a rest, will you? It’s been twenty years. Haven’t you mourned enough? So her sister died too. That doesn’t mean I want her working in my company. She’s around our family too much as it is.”

“Jackson, please. I care about her. I do everything you want, don’t I?” I forced myself to walk over to him and put my arms around his neck. “She isn’t a threat to you. She really needs a job. Her family back home depends on her. I can brag to everyone about how you rescued her.” I knew he’d like playing the hero.

“Hilda does need an assistant. I suppose we could give her a chance. I’ll call Human Resources and have her set up for an interview.”

I didn’t want to take any chances. “Couldn’t you try her out without an interview on my word? She’s smart as a whip; she’s done a better job as my cochair than anyone before her. And working at Rollins, she knows a lot about your business. She worked on the commercial side.”

“Rollins! That’s not saying much. If she’s so good, why’d they let her go?”