Detained (43 page)

He gave his name to the receptionist, but barely made eye contact with her. He was riveted by the poster-sized portrait of Darcy on the wall behind her. It was one of those artfully posed candid shots where the subject was supposedly unaware someone with a camera was two foot in front of them. She was smiling and her eyes were explosively big in her gorgeous face. She looked like she could walk off the wall and into his arms.

“Like what you see, Mr Parker?”

That was almost her phone sex voice, all breathy and low pitched. It sent a ripple of anticipation up his spine. “Very much, Ms Campbell. I see you’re a big star here.” Now he looked at the Barbie clone receptionist. “You know, when I first met Ms Campbell I knew she’d have her own show one day.”

Receptionist Barbie beamed a smile at him, and Darcy made a snorting sound, about as ladylike as a pig in mud. She pointed to another picture, a meathead in a suit with a microphone, standing on a football field. The caption said Todd Dubsomething or other. “He’s the big star.” Then she gestured for him to follow her. “If you’d come this way, Mr Parker. We’re almost ready for you.”

“God I hope so,” he said, using his most suggestive phone sex voice.

She walked in front of him, and he got his chance to stare at her in the suit he’d had Pete send from Shanghai. He’d been worried it might remind her of Quingpu, but the night it arrived he’d had more fun on a satellite phone than a man with as many injuries he’d had deserved.

“Do I get some time alone with you?”

She spun to face him, walking backwards in incredibly sexy heels which did something to the way she balanced and the shape of her body that made him forget the question.

“Alone, with about a dozen people watching,” she said.

He took a couple of bigger steps and caught up with her. He wanted to touch her, but they were obviously in a public area of the building, and they’d decided to play out the misunderstanding line Darcy had spun about their private relationship, so touching her was risky.

Fuck, risk was his middle name
. He put his arm around her waist, backed her into the nearest doorway and crashed them both into a men’s bathroom.

“What are you doing?”

He brought her to rest against a tiled wall, doing a quick check for inhabitants. Thankfully clear. “I thought it was obvious.”

She double blinked at him, huge TV eyelashes. “You want to be alone with me in the men’s?”

He laughed. His destination could’ve been better negotiated. “Shut up and kiss me, I’ve missed you.”

“In the men’s.” She was laughing so hard, he wasn’t likely to get any puckering out of those pillow soft red lips.

“What is it with you and detaining me in confined spaces?”

But he needed her in his arms now, to get through what was coming.

“Will, don’t worry you’ll be fine.” She thought he was worried about the interview. It sobered her up quick, and got him good and properly kissed, slow. He could’ve stood there all day, let the legitimate visitors work around them, but they were both on a deadline.

He helped her straighten her suit, an incredibly contrived and sleazy excuse to put his hands all over her again. She tutted over her smudged lipstick, made sure he wasn’t wearing half of it, and he checked his pocket, and did a corridor all clear before they stepped back out into the real world.

Respectably separated she led him into the recording studios. But he found as many opportunities as possible to brush her hand or nudge her shoulder, at one point crossing behind her, and rippling his knuckles across her butt, blowing on the back of her neck.

“Mr Parker, you are perhaps drunk?” she whispered.

“On you, Ms Campbell.”

“Will!”

She left him in makeup with instructions to let them do their job and behave. He knew the next time he saw her they’d be on public show, and the time after that? Who knew? Best not think about that right now.

Darcy’s segment producer, Merrit, collected him from makeup and walked him into the studio. He went over the agreed details and Will had to suck it up and pretend interest because Merrit couldn’t know the amount of private coaching he’d had for this.

Darcy was standing with another man, heart attack fat; that would be the boss, Alan. The one who wanted his woman stick thin, the one who threatened her job security. Man, what he’d like to do to Alan, if he wasn’t a civilised person whose right hook wasn’t restricted by a new lump of plaster and a metal pin. He had to contend with staring at the bloke, sending him artery-clogging thoughts.

But forget Alan. His girl, the one he’d just kissed breathless in the men’s, was coming towards him. If he was smart, he could turn their polite public greeting into another chance to grope her. But she was ready for him, picked his game.

“Will, great to see you, you look well rested.” She stood well back from him and held out her hand, arm straight, a slight forward tilt in her body.

He took it and held it overly long for a handshake, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Darcy, have you lost weight? Never mind, you’re as beautiful as ever.” She gave him a behave glare, and he laughed as Merrit and Alan clocked the encounter.
Fuck it
, let them wonder.

A cosy looking lounge room plonked in the middle of an otherwise empty warehouse sized space was their destination. This was where he’d start the next phase of his life, and he saw no reason to think it wouldn’t be as eventful as everything that went before it.

“Are you ready, Will?” It would’ve been good to be able to warn her. “This is pre-recorded so we can stop at any time if you need to.”

This was the only part he was anxious about. He needed to be smooth, give her no reason to stop things before he got his key message, as Aileen called it, out. Not that Aileen was going to be pleased about his interpretation of her best guidance.

“Good to go.”

Darcy smiled, took a deep breath and expelled it noisily. She was more nervous than he was. He tried to catch her eyes, but she’d switched into professional mode, was centring herself. She gave an introduction, ignoring him, facing the camera. The whole rah-rah thing. She talked about his role as Parker CEO, the business, his fortune, and ticked off the key events making up his most infamous profile. To date.

When she focused on him she asked a bunch of basic questions about the business finishing with the hostile Avalon takeover, and how he’d made the decision to check out of hospital to talk Ted Barstow into a partnership instead.

“I want to ask you now about your experience being kidnapped and jailed and then later on about your childhood, and growing up in the tiny town of Tara in the Darling Downs of Queensland.” She smiled at him to show the audience who’d watch this at home how friendly this whole thing was, and by extension what a nice, neither criminal or insane, guy he was.

They got through the kidnap with no mention of singing or his daydreaming about a blonde journalist who’d gotten into his head. Darcy mentioned how inadvertently her photo story alerted the kidnapper’s family to his whereabouts. Allowing him to assure her the role she played in investigating the murder charge exonerated her from all blame in his eyes, and made them firm friends forever.

Cue smiles from the families at home. Cue tape of the event on the steps of the Sheraton and Will saying, “I really did check out of hospital too early. I wasn’t myself. You were a friendly face in the crowd, and I know I embarrassed you terribly. It was certainly blown out of proportion by the media in general.”

Signal the restoration of Darcy’s honour. Prompt dashed hopes of gossip columnists across the country. For the moment.

They got through the jail portion of the interview by focusing on what prison conditions were like. Better than might be expected. And the unfortunate circumstance of being trapped in a riot, still denied by the Chinese Government. Here Will had to steel himself not to cringe as Darcy catalogued his injuries and his recovery. He would rather have avoided this and cut to the chase.

“Moving now to your childhood, it’s a little known fact you were an orphan and you and your brother Peter adopted each other.”

“That’s true. We even decided on a new name, Parker, because Pete was a mad keen Spiderman fan.”

The only sign Darcy was surprised by his unrehearsed adlib was the tightening of her thigh muscles. She rolled with it.

“You chose the name Parker? The name that now stands for one of the country’s most profitable companies.”

“That’s right. I was born William Brown and Peter was Peter Vessy. You mentioned Tara, that’s where I lived with Peter and his father Norman, after my foster mother died and my foster dad shot through.” That was more or less the answer she expected without the admission of his other name.

“He left you alone and you were sixteen.”

“That’s right. I was your typical dropkick kid, and I had a learning disability, so I wasn’t the easiest to get along with.”

“And Norman and Peter took you in.”

Will nodded and then remembered he was supposed to speak. “Yes, that’s correct.” They’d hit a crucial turning point, he couldn’t afford to lose concentration and slip up like that again.

“I want to ask you about your learning disability—you had a form of dyslexia?”

This is what they’d agreed to focus on. New information about Will, something he could show he’d triumphed over, and in doing that give encouragement to others who might be suffering from it. He was all for that, but not right now. He used a politician’s trick, he re-routed the question, gave the answer he wanted.

“It wasn’t helped by the stress of my living conditions. Norman Vessy was a violent man. He resented having responsibility for two ratbag boys.”

Darcy’s chin dropped, she frowned, but kept rolling with it. Will felt a ripple of increased interest from the watching crew.

“That must’ve been very difficult.” A comment not a question, she was giving herself think music, but he didn’t let her gather her thoughts.

“Norman terrorised his son and me with regular beatings. Both Pete and I have a good collection of scars that are testament to his drinking and abuse.”

“Are you comfortable talking about this?” She meant, what are you doing? Will reckoned he had about two more sentences in him before she shut him down, but his bet was Alan wouldn’t.

“It’s not a comfortable subject. Physical abuse is an abhorrent offense. It wasn’t until Norman was killed that Pete and I were in a position to raise each other and start on our journey to build Parker Corporation.” He used the word ‘killed’ with precision, deliberateness, and he bloody well hoped she loved him enough to eventually forgive him for it.

Darcy leapt to her feet so fast she might’ve snapped a heel. “I’d like a quick break.”

Alan’s fat-laden voice boomed over the top of her. “Will, Mr Parker,” yeah, he was obsequious when he wanted something, “are you comfortable continuing? We’d like you to talk more about the abuse, the killing of Norman Vessy.”

He looked at Darcy, watching him in horror. “I’d like to continue, please.”

She slid to her seat. “Will, you don’t want to do this.”

“Your next question Darce is, ‘How was Norman Vessy killed?’” called Alan.

“No. I won’t ask that.” She didn’t trust him, but if he wanted any control at all, it had to be this way.

Alan waddled into the well of light. “Mr Parker is comfortable, what’s your problem?”

“I think Will needs a break.”

Alan had the smell of blood in his thick nostrils. “I don’t think he does. Let’s not take up his valuable time with this any more than we need to. Continue.”

“Will, please.”

“Darcy, trust me.”

“He says trust him. Ask the bloody question.”

Darcy looked like he’d slapped her, and he had to clench his back teeth to get through this.

She composed herself enough to say, “You said Norman Vessy, your guardian, your adopted brother Peter’s father, was killed. How did Norman Vessy die?”

She’d phrased it so carefully, she wanted him to say Norman drowned, but she couldn’t trust him to leave it there. She’d abandoned her straight back posture and was leaning forward.

“Norman drowned.” She sighed and her shoulders dropped. “In a shallow creek while I watched him.”

“That was—” He raised his voice to cut her off.

“Norman Vessy chose to be a drunk and a child abuser. I didn’t kill him, but I could have saved him and I choose not to. I chose to let Norman Vessy drown.” If this had been a legitimate business interview Aileen would’ve been pleased he’d nailed his key message.
Shit
, he hoped Aileen didn’t quit over this.

“Will!”

Darcy was on her feet again. This time he stood with her. There wasn’t anyone in the studio who didn’t understand Will Parker had virtually confessed to aiding and abetting the death of Norman Vessy, hadn’t lined himself up for a manslaughter investigation, and done it on camera knowing this was for broadcast.

He reached for her but she recoiled in shock. She looked towards Alan. “We’re not broadcasting that. Will did not mean what he said. I’ll ask the question again, or we can cut after he says, ‘Norman drowned’?”

Alan, Merrit and other members of the crew had surrounded them. “Do you wish to answer that question in a different way, Mr Parker?” said Alan, and Will knew this was heart attack cause territory for that lard tub.

“No, I’m perfectly comfortable with that response.”

Alan would’ve danced for joy if his knees had allowed for the motion. Will had just handed the bastard the scoop of the year.

“Are you comfortable talking about what happened next, Mr Parker?” said Alan.

“No, he’s not,” snapped Darcy. “He’s clearly not. We have a moral obligation not to let Will incriminate himself.” She turned from Alan and stepped up to him. “Will, don’t do this. Peter can get an injunction to stop them broadcasting. We can stop everything right now.”

He took her hand, stone cold and shaking. “It’s okay, Lois. This is what I want. Better out than in. I’ve had enough of hiding from it, and I wanted to have some control of the message.”

“You’re sick, Will, you’re not well. I’m going to call Peter right now. We’ll fix this.”