Page 71 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

“Here you go, my dear,” Jackson says as he places a sweater around my shoulders.

“Thanks.”

We make idle small talk for a few moments. I look over at him. “I need to say something.”

“What is it?”

“I know I’ve fought you on all this, but I realize now that if you hadn’t forced my hand we’d have never reconciled.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing that.”

“I’m surprised, though, that you were able to get Amber to go along. Isn’t she jealous that we’re getting back together?”

He rolls his eyes. “The only thing Amber cares about is Amber. She was only too eager to make a deal if it meant I would help her get what she wants.”

I don’t waste time asking what that might be. I appeal to his ego instead. “Well, she’s always been brilliant. That’s one thing I can’t take away from her. She came up with a great plan.”

He scoffs. “It wasn’t her plan. It was mine.”

“So you were the one who figured out how to make it look as though I was neglecting the children? I realize now that you must have drugged the lemonade. But what I don’t get is how did you know I’d drink that particular drink?”

He taps his temple. “Think, Daphne. I drugged them all. I put the Klonopin in each drink, with a little vodka in the lemonade, and Bailey’s Irish cream in the coffee.”

“It was very smart. But what if DCF doesn’t clear me? Now that you’ve drummed up a false case against me, it could backfire. They might tell you that you can’t have permanent custody if I’m living here.”

“Nonsense. I already have the judge in my pocket. He’ll do whatever I ask. You forget that I still have a lot of power in this town.”

We finish dinner, and I dawdle over my coffee, silently urging the staff to clean up and get the hell out of here. Finally, Edgar steps outside.

“If you won’t be needing anything else this evening, sir?”

“It’s fine. Everyone can go.”

I take the opportunity to stop the recording while he’s distracted talking to Edgar. When I hear the last of the cars drive away, I stand. “I’ve been waiting all night to get my hands on you,” I say.

He gets up and comes toward me, pulling me into an embrace. We kiss and he forces his tongue into my mouth. I close my eyes and remind myself that everything is on the line here. We head back into the house, and I grab his hand.

“Let’s go to our old bedroom. I want to reclaim it as my own.”

We walk up the stairs and my skin feels clammy, my heart beating furiously. I stop by the bedroom I’ve been using and scoop up the things we bought earlier that day. When we reach Jackson’s bedroom, I stop a moment to take it in. Amber has redone it, of course, and it’s just as tasteful as when I lived here, but her decorator used bolder colors. A wave of dizziness overcomes me as all the bad memories of this room come rushing back. I push them aside and tell myself to buck up, I can’t lose it now.

I pull the dress up over my shoulders and toss it on the floor. Jackson looks at my leather-clad body with desire. It’s now or never. I throw my shoulders back and make my voice strong.

“Strip. Now.”

He looks at me in surprise. I pick up the leather whip and crack it a few times. “Did you hear me, slave? Do it.” I raise my hand menacingly.

“Yes, mistress,” he says, throwing off his shirt and stepping out of his slacks.

I have to be very careful about my next moves. I stare at him, then walk toward him until I’m inches away. “You may undo my garters.”

He smiles and reaches for my leg, and I smack his hand with the whip.

“I didn’t say when. You must ask first.”

“Please, may I undo your garters?” His pupils are hugely dilated, and he gapes at me hungrily.

“Yes.”

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