Page 72 of The Next Mrs. Parrish

He does and my stockings fall to my ankles. I step out of my heels. I run a hand over his chest and down his stomach, stopping before his groin. “What do you want me to do?”

“Touch me.” His voice is thick with yearning.

“What’s the magic word?”

“Please.”

I move my hand down and fight my revulsion and caress his hardness, squeezing for a moment. “On the bed,” I command.

He walks over to the bed and lies down on his back. I straddle him and he reaches his arms to pull me down.

I smack him again. “Who’s the boss?”

“You are,” he says with a smirk.

“You’re a bad boy. Just for that, I’m going to have to restrain you.” I get up and come back with the handcuffs and he yields his wrists to me. I secure them to the bedpost and pull on each hand to make sure they’re secure.

He moans in anticipation.

I slide down until I’m straddling him again and he tries to move his body to meet mine. Then I scoot off the bed and grab my dress and shoes.

“What are you doing?”

I should just leave without any explanation but the pent-up fury that’s built over the past weeks explodes.

“You narcissistic sociopath. I’m leaving, that’s what. You’re never going to see me or the girls again. I can’t believe you actually thought I’d ever love you again. You make my skin crawl, and if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to prove what a lying, amoral scumbag you truly are.”

His face turns crimson, and his eyes are hate-filled. He tries to sit up, furiously jerking against the restraints hindering him. “You treacherous bitch. I’ll make you pay for this. You’re the one who’s never going to see those kids again. I’ll make sure you spend the next twenty years in prison for kidnapping. You will—”

I put my hand up. “Shut up. I’m through listening to you.”

The last thing I do is to get my iPhone and take some pictures of him. They may come in handy.

– 44 –

DAPHNE

I run to the guest room and grab the bag I’ve already packed from under the bed, throw on jeans and a sweater, doing my best to ignore the obscenities Jackson is yelling from the bedroom. Fortunately, there’s no one to hear him, and the size of the house and grounds are large enough to ensure there are no close neighbors to investigate. I fly down the stairs, rush into his study, and grab the keys to his Mercedes. I lock the front door, jump in the car, and roar out of the driveaway. Once I’m off the street, I pull over and call Meredith.

“I’m on my way. Meet me at the train station.” After I end the call, I text her the recording I took at dinner with Jackson’s confession. I mentally prepare for my conversation with the girls. Tallulah is old enough to understand, but I’m very concerned about Bella having to hear the harsh truth. Meredith will have prepared them somewhat, but it will be up to me to give them the whole story, or at least as much of it as I think they can handle while still conveying the necessity of this rash action.

It’s close to eleven when I pull into the mostly deserted parking lot. Meredith is waiting for me, the kids are still in her car. I park, put the keys under the mat, and shut the door.

“I’ve been a nervous wreck,” she says, pulling me into a hug.

“How are the girls?”

“Upset. As you can imagine. I told them that Jackson and Amber were responsible for what happened at the beach, but that’s all.”

I nod.

She hands me a set of keys. “Here you go. It’s the blue Honda Civic right there.” She points. “Untraceable to you and there’s a map with stops along the way. Also, some clothes, baseball caps, toiletries. Try to stay out of sight as much as possible. Airbnbs have been booked and the codes for each are all in the folder in the car. Burner phones and cash too.”

“Thank you. Jackson’s going to be furious with you, you know. I don’t know what he might do when he comes to pick up Jax. Once the staff shows up tomorrow and finds him…”

“Don’t worry about me. Just be safe. I’ll take the recording to the lawyers.”

“I hope it’s enough,” I say.

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