Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

As soon as Eric Fury saw Jackson, he’d rushed over to shake his hand.

“Jackson. Wonderful to see you.” He swept his arm around to indicate the crowded room. “Isn’t it great?”

“It is, Eric, and you deserve every bit of it,” Jackson said.

“It’s all thanks to you. I can never tell you how grateful I am.”

“Nonsense. I just made the introductions. Your art speaks for itself. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have the talent.”

Fury turned to Amber. “You must be Daphne.”

“Actually, this is my assistant, Amber Patterson. Unfortunately, my wife was unable to be here, but she loves your work as much as I do.”

Amber extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fury. I read recently that you’re moving away from canvas and instead painting on wood you collect from old buildings.”

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?”