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He liked the shadows. They were his world, where he operated best.
He liked being in a room full of people he knew and being largely anonymous. Sure, the people who mattered, and a hopeful circle of hangers-on knew who he
was, but in the scheme of things, it was an exclusive society.
In the shadows, Will could walk around Parker plants, production sites and shipping terminals, and find out things he’d never learn otherwise. Things Pete would never hear about if he held an inquisition.
Besides, the shadows had protected him and Pete when they needed it, and Will saw no good reason to stand in direct sunlight now.
Except he wanted Avalon. It was a cornerstone investment creating the platform he needed to drive Parker Corporation profitability, and insure its growth, and the security of its thousands of employees well into the future. And to get it, he needed the Avalon board to cave in and advise their shareholders to sell to him. And everyone assured him only public pressure, pressure only he could exert, would get him what he wanted.
It pissed Will off to have to trade his treasured anonymity for future prosperity. And it scared him. Nothing about getting to number twenty-seven Zhongshan Road had been pretty, well organised or even entirely legal for William Brown and Peter Vessy. There was a lot at stake and though Pete had done everything possible to cover their tracks and protect them, Will was never entirely comfortable with the chickens that could still come home to roost.
This was his disability, his hunchback’s hump.
And after what happened last night, the white-hot fear he’d felt over a few silly photographs, he knew he had to come up with a different plan. He wouldn’t be doing any media interviews.
“About that scuffle,” said Pete.
Will mirrored Pete’s pose. Pushing his chair back and putting his feet up on the desk edge too. They faced each other on the diagonal. “What scuffle?”
“The one involving you and some hotel security goons.”
Will grinned. “Oh. That scuffle.”
“There’s another? I need to know.”
He dropped his smile. “What…if I raped someone?”
“Will.” Pete slapped his thigh for emphasis.
“Tell me that’s not what you’re thinking.”
Pete groaned. “You can be a bull-headed prick, but you’re not cruel, stupid or mindless.”
But he had been remorselessly all those things last night, when he’d gone after Darcy. He was vindictive to blame her for trying to get her own back, brainless to think he could still have her, and make her want him too, and near senseless from his physical response to her.
“So—the scuffle?” Despite the look of a hangover about him, Pete was not going to be derailed.
“A news photographer tried to take my portrait without asking first.”
Pete brought his legs down off the desk and sat forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped. “And that was a big deal because?”
“You know why. I don’t want the exposure. I don’t want the profile.”
“Hang on. You agreed.”
“Well now I’m disagreeing. We have to find another way.”
“We’ve been over this. You’re obsessing over nothing. It’s not like we’re trying to turn you into a celebrity here. We’re talking about a few carefully selected interviews with targeted publications. Here today, fish and chip wrapper tomorrow.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Goddamn, Will. I’ve known you twenty years and I still don’t understand you. You fought every monster we ever encountered, slayed every dragon, even my imaginary ones, and you’re running scared of talking to a few journalists, and having your picture taken. It makes no sense.”
“To you.”
“To me, to Aileen...” Pete trailed off.
