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“He punched that door on purpose.”
“Yeah. He does stuff like that now,” Peter sighed. He caught the waiter’s eye. “That violence, that dead mean streak, it was always in him. It’s the reason he thought he might’ve killed Feng. But he always knew he had a choice, control it or be controlled by it and he got off on the control.”
Darcy smiled, the memory of breaking Will’s control, being the reason for him to lose it, was almost a meal of its own to live on.
“I know about Avalon, Peter.”
“Shit. Are you telling me as a journalist or as a friend?”
“I’m both. I’ve always been both.”
Peter raised his glass, an ironic toast. “To the journalist in you—no fucking comment. To the friend—Will would consider this a hostile takeover, but I’m not so sure. I don’t know if he will ever be able to run Parker again. Whether he will want to. But it’s quite possible there’ll be nothing left by the time he’s ready. It makes sense to sell to Avalon. But for the record, I’m going with no comment.”
Darcy clinked Peter’s glass. “For the record, I hear you, and since it’s not the kind of story my program does, you’re safe with me.”
Peter studied her. She thought he was about to make a jibe about journalists not being the most trustworthy people on the planet, but he surprised her with, “Are you happy?”
“Sure, I have the job, I’m earning brilliant money.”
“I think that’s your version of no comment. I thought we were being friends tonight.”
Darcy frowned, caught out. The waiter arrived and gave her thinking time. They ordered, but it was too much to hope Peter was distracted by the business of eating. He gave her a level look, his lawyer look.
“I’m fine. Today was rough, really rough, but I’m fine,” she said.
“You’re way too thin. Will would be horrified.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. He thought I was a prostitute.”
“He thought you were like Jiao. First tier, bao er nai —a mistress. It’s officially still prostitution and illegal, but it’s common practice. If you can get past the fact he was so crude, it’s a compliment.”
Darcy blinked at him in surprise. “You are kidding.”
Peter shook his head, grinning. “But I’m also not crazy, so I’m quitting this part of the conversation before you ‘no comment’ me for the rest of the meal.”
Over scallops and then lamb, they talked about food, politics, fashion, real estate; anything but what brought them together. Will was like a silent participant at the meal: watching them eat, always in their thoughts, making it awkward to ignore him.
Darcy heard herself chattering away and wondered at her ability to keep up the false cheer. She wanted to run a bath at the hotel, sit in it and cry. She wanted to re-book her flight for tomorrow and go home. There was no point going to see Will again, and no way the effort of doing it wasn’t going to wreck her. And she couldn’t afford to be wrecked. He was in this position so she was free and well, and able to live her life. She couldn’t repay his memory by failing, and if she let her heartbreak take her down—she’d be failing spectacularly.
“Darcy, hey you’re miles away. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She was continents away, back in Sydney, trying to focus on being new Darcy because there was no old Will left to fixate on. “Are you sure about the pav?”
“Oh, yeah. We have to have the pav.” Peter did that thing men with room presence could do and got waiter attention with the lift of his chin. He ordered and turned his eyes on her. “You know, there’s a chance Will is foxing?”
“Foxing? As in being a duplicitous prick!”
Peter laughed, slamming his hand on the table making their waiting dessert spoons jump. “I wouldn’t have put it like that, but now that you mention it, yes.”
“How can a man who hasn’t spoken for eight months be running a scam?”
“Talk to Bo about it. Bo thinks Will has had his memory back for some time, but didn’t want to acknowledge it. Will claims not to remember how this all came about, so not remembering you fits. But he always was a cunning bastard, so it’s not a stretch to think he knows more than he’s letting on.”
“He looked at me like I was nothing to him. I don’t think that was an act.”
“Up until four days ago he could only talk in one word sentences. Today he was giving me orders, very succinct and clear ones.”
Darcy looked away, out over the Huangpu to the lights of Pudong. “Don’t say that to give me hope, Peter.”
