The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

  Jackson had looked at her in surprise, and Fury said, “You are absolutely right, Miss Patterson. It’s a statement about what we lose when we let historical edifices be torn down.”

  Suddenly a man appeared with a camera. “Hey, Mr. Fury. How about a photo for tomorrow’s edition?”

  Eric smiled and stood next to Jackson as Amber quickly moved away from the twosome. The last thing she needed was another picture of her in the newspaper.

  “Okay, kid. Get back to your fans and sell some art,” Jackson said when the photographer finished. When the artist walked away, Jackson walked over to where Amber stood admiring one of the works.

  “I didn’t realize you knew anything about Eric Fury,” he said.

  “I don’t really. But when you asked if I wanted to go to the exhibit, I read up on him. I always like to know something beforehand. It makes the experience much more rewarding.”

  He nodded his head in approval. “Impressive.”

  Amber smiled.

  “That was discreet of you. Moving out of the picture. I hope you didn’t feel uncomfortable,” he said.

  That was funny. He thought she was protecting him. “Not at all. You know I’ll always have your back.” She smiled and moved a little closer to him. “And your front too,” she whispered.

  “I think it’s time to split,” he said.

  “You’re the boss.”

  As they circled the room, bidding everyone good night, Amber experienced just what it would feel like to be Jackson’s wife, to be at the center of the universe with him—and it felt sublime. She only needed to bide her time.

  They grabbed a taxi back to the apartment and were practically tearing each other’s clothes off as the private elevator ascended. They never got to the bedroom, but made furious love on the living room floor. That was one of the things Amber especially loved—she made sure that they’d had sex in every room, even both of the girls’ bedrooms. That one had been a challenge, but she wanted her scent everywhere, like an alley cat.

  * * *

  She heard the shower going and turned lazily to look at the clock on the night stand. Seven thirty! Jackson came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, his chest still shiny with dampness. He sat on the edge of the bed and ruffled her hair. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  “I didn’t even hear the alarm. I’ll get up.”

  “You put on quite a show last night. No wonder you’re exhausted.” He leaned down and gave her a long, sensuous kiss.

  “Ooh, come back to bed,” she cooed.

  He ran his hand down the front of her body. “Nothing I’d like more, but remember? I have a ten o’clock with Harding and Harding.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Sorry I kept you up so late.”

  “Don’t ever apologize for that.” He rose, dropped the towel, and began dressing. Amber snuggled against the pillow and admired the toned and muscular body that she now knew so intimately. He finished dressing as she slowly got out of bed. “I’m off,” he said as he pulled her naked body to him. “Give me a kiss and hustle. We need to prepare for that meeting.”

  Amber hurriedly poured a glass of juice and then got into the shower. She chose the red Oscar de la Renta suit Jackson had bought for her last week and was out the door close to eight. She made it to the office by eight forty-five and strolled into Jackson’s office. She knew he was watching her as she strutted in the fitted jacket and short skirt that hugged her bottom.

  At twelve o’clock, the meeting in Jackson’s office was still going on when Amber looked up to see Daphne approaching her desk. She looked like she had gained more weight and was not her usual, impeccable self. Her lipstick was mussed, her blouse so tight that the buttons were straining. Amber noticed, too, that she wore no jewelry other than her ring.

  Amber rose from her desk. “Daphne, what a surprise. Is everything all right?” What was she doing here?

  “Yes, everything’s fine. I was in town and just wondered if Jackson might be available for lunch.”

  “Was he expecting you?”

  “Well, no. I just took a chance. I tried calling you to get his schedule, but they said you weren’t in yet. Is he here?”

  Amber stood up straighter. “He’s in a meeting with a group of investors. I’m not sure when they’ll be finished.”

  Daphne looked disappointed. “Oh. Did the meeting just start?”

  Amber shuffled some papers on her desk. “I don’t know. I had car trouble this morning, so I missed my train. That’s why I was late.” She stared at Daphne.

  “Well, maybe I’ll wait a little bit. Do you mind if I sit in here with you? I won’t bother you if you have work to do.”

  “Of course not. Please have a seat.”

  “By the way, that’s a beautiful suit you’re wearing.”

  “Thank you. I got it at a consignment shop here in the city. Amazing what you can find for cheap.” She wanted to add, and guess whose red bra and panties I’m wearing.

  Daphne sat, and Amber went back to the pile of work on her desk while fielding phone calls.

  “You’ve really taken to this job, haven’t you? Jackson says he wouldn’t know what to do without you. I knew you’d be perfect for him.”

  Amber bristled. She was sick and tired of Daphne patronizing her. She was so out of tune with her own husband’s needs and desires it was laughable.

  Just then, the door to Jackson’s office opened and the four-member Harding and Harding team stood there shaking hands and saying their good-byes. Amber could tell from the look on Jackson’s face that the meeting had gone well. She was glad. This would mean a financial leap into a whole new stratosphere. Jackson, now standing alone, looked surprised to see Daphne.

  “Hi, darling,” she said, rising from her chair and embracing him.

  “Daphne, how nice. What are you doing in New York?”

  “Can we go into your office?” she asked in a sweet voice.

  Jackson followed her in and closed the door behind them. After twenty minutes, Amber was fuming. What could possibly be going on in there? Suddenly, Jackson was at the door and said, “Amber, can you come in and bring my schedule with you? I seem to have erased it somehow.”

  Daphne looked up as Amber entered. “You see, Amber? What on earth would he do without you? Jackson’s just been telling me what an innovator you are.”

  “How’s my afternoon looking, Amber? My wife wants to take me to lunch.”

  Amber pulled up the calendar on her iPhone. “It looks like you have a lunch appointment at twelve forty-five with Margot Samuelson from Atkins Insurance.” He didn’t, but Amber wasn’t about to let Jackson and Daphne have a meal together. She turned to Daphne. “I’m so sorry you came in for nothing.”

  Daphne got up from her seat. “Don’t worry. I had to come in for a foundation meeting this morning. It’s no problem.” She walked behind the desk and gave Jackson a kiss. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll be home for dinner.”

  “Good. We’ve missed you.”

  Amber walked her out, and Daphne gave her a hug. “I’m glad he’s coming home tonight. The girls miss him. He never used to stay overnight in the city this often. Are you sure you’re not noticing anything suspicious? No one calling here for him or anything?”

  “Believe me, Daphne—no one is calling or coming around. I even stayed at the apartment one night when you and Jackson were at the lake, and there’s no sign that anyone but Jackson has been there. It’s just a super-busy season here. I’m sure there’ve been times like this before.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. There have been. It feels different this time, though.”

  “I think you’re imagining things.”

  “Thanks for keeping me on an even keel.”

  “Anytime.”

  Once Daphne was gone, Amber went straight to Jackson’s office. “What did she want?”

  “She wanted to have lunch, just like she said.”

  “You were al
one a long time. What was that all about?”

  “Whoa. She’s my wife, remember?”

  Amber did her best to backpedal. “I know. Sorry. It’s just . . .” She choked back fake tears. “It’s just that I care about you so much, I can’t stand the thought of your being with anyone else.”

  Jackson got up from his desk chair and opened his arms. “Come here, you little worrier.” He hugged her, and she held on to him tightly. “Stop fretting. It will all work out, I promise you.”

  Amber knew better than to challenge him by asking him how and when it was all going to work out. “You’re going back to Connecticut tonight?”

  He moved her back, his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. “I have to. Besides, I want to check things at home. Daphne looks like she’s having problems.”

  “Yes, I noticed that too. She’s gained more weight, hasn’t she?” Amber said.

  “She looked sloppy, and that’s not like her. I want to check on the girls too, make sure everything’s okay.”

  Amber wiggled back into his arms. “I’ll miss you so much.”

  He dropped his arms and walked to the office door. Amber was already unzipping her skirt as she heard the lock click.

  Thirty-Four

  Jackson told Amber he had a surprise for her. The chauffeur picked them up from the apartment and drove them to Teterboro Airport, where a private jet waited for them. When Amber saw the airfield, she turned to Jackson. “What are we doing?” she asked.

  Jackson pulled her closer to him. “We’re taking a little trip.”

  “A trip? Where? I don’t have any clothes with me.”

  “Of course you don’t. But you won’t be in them much anyway,” he said with a laugh.

  “Jackson!” Amber feigned outrage. “But really. I didn’t pack anything.”

  “Don’t worry—there are stores in Paris.”

  “Paris?” she cried. “Oh, Jackson. We’re going to Paris?”

  “The most romantic city in the world.”

  Amber unbuckled her seat belt, slid onto Jackson’s lap, and kissed him. They almost undressed right there in the car, but they had pulled to a stop near the jet stairs. Jackson was the first to pull away. “Here we are,” he said, and opened his door.

  They boarded the plane, and Amber looked around while Jackson talked to the pilot. The only planes she’d been on were commercial airliners crowded with rows and rows of seats, and naturally, Amber had never sat anywhere but in economy. Even that time she’d met Jackson and the family in London, she had flown commercially. She knew that private jets existed, but she’d never imagined they looked like this. Supple leather sofas in a beautiful cream color sat on both sides of the plane, facing each other. There was a large-screen TV, and a dining table for four had a round crystal vase filled with fresh flowers. A door opened onto a bedroom with a king-size bed, and the bathroom was almost as luxurious as the one in the New York apartment. In fact, Amber thought, it was like being in a smaller but just as sumptuous home.

  Jackson came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “You like?”

  “What’s not to like?”

  “Follow me,” he said.

  He led her into the bedroom, where he opened the closet doors. Indicating a mass of clothing hanging there, he said, “Look through them and decide what you want to keep. Keep all of them if you like.”

  “When did you have time to do this?”

  “I took care of it last week,” he said.

  Amber went to the closet and went through the hangers one by one, examining the dresses, tops, pants, jackets, and sweaters, every one still with a tag on it. Obviously, he’d bought them just for her. She excitedly began pulling them out to try on, kicking off her shoes and removing her dress. Jackson sat on the bed. “You don’t mind if I watch this little show, do you?”

  “Not one little bit.”

  She tried on every last piece, modeling them for Jackson, who approved of it all. Of course, he had chosen everything, so it stood to reason that he would.

  “There are shoes in there too. Up top, on the shelf,” he said.

  “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  Amber looked up and counted fifteen shoe boxes with names she had only dreamed about. Each pair cost about the same as her monthly rent, some of them even more. When she got to the Jimmy Choos with white suede, crystals, and ostrich feathers, she put them on and took off everything else, then wiggled into the delicious red and black lace corset he’d bought for her. She felt like a movie star, with her stupendously expensive duds, a private jet to travel in, and a gorgeous man dying to make love to her. She walked over to Jackson, still seated on the bed, and, running her fingers through his hair, pulled his face against her chest. She pushed him down and began to work her magic. In a matter of seconds, she would do her best to take him to another world.

  Later they had dinner by candlelight, Amber still in her high heels, but now with a silk robe over her naked body.

  “I’m famished,” she said as she cut into her filet mignon.

  “No wonder. You must have burned up five thousand calories.”

  “If I could stay in bed with you and never have to come up for air or food, I would be the happiest girl alive.” She made sure to stroke his ego every chance she got.

  Jackson raised his wineglass. “That would be a perfect world, my hungry little sexaholic.”

  When they landed at Le Bourget Airport in Paris, they were whisked by chauffeur to the Hotel Plaza Athénée. Amber loved the hotel, with its red awnings and crimson bouquets everywhere you looked. She toured its 35,000-bottle wine cellar and was pampered at the Dior Institut spa. It was the most glorious week of her life, strolling along the Champs- Élysées and dining in intimate cafés with soft lighting and delectable food. The Eiffel Tower thrilled her. She was overwhelmed by the vastness of the Louvre and its masterpieces, moved by the grand edifice of Notre-Dame, and charmed by the city’s amber hue as lights glowed in the twilight. And in between this eye-opening journey, she never let Jackson forget how virile and exciting she found him.

  The visit had seemed to fly by, Amber thought as they boarded the private plane for their return. She sat without speaking for the next hour, while Jackson gathered papers from his briefcase and began making notes. When he finished, she went over and sat next to him.

  “This has been the most wonderful week of my life. You’ve really opened up my world.”

  Jackson smiled but said nothing.

  “It’s been heaven having you all to myself. I hate the thought of sharing you with Daphne.”

  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.

  Thirty-Five

  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.