Hero Duty (16 page)

Jessica sighed. Tangled loyalties, but she knew who she trusted. ‘Derek’s not happy. His fiancée, Anabel, broke up with him. It was…harsh. He feels he’s been cheated out of the life he planned. Brodie says he’s after revenge.’

‘His society princess broke up with him? I wondered how long that would take.’ Vera wasn’t a petty woman, which meant Derek must have seriously annoyed her for that comment to shake loose. ‘Sorry. The good news is that he can’t cause any real damage. He has the title of Vice President, but Joe made it a hollow one. The truly sensitive information — prospective projects, tenders, problems — is restricted.’

Vera’s definite voice slowed. She was thinking. ‘I know we discussed the machinations inside Numbat yesterday, but I wasn’t sure how blunt I could be.’

‘Completely.’ Jessica pressed back in her dad’s chair, tensing for a blow. ‘I won’t be offended, or if I am, I don’t carry grudges.’

‘All right. Then the truth is, Derek has been running around like a frantic ferret, nipping, biting, and scurrying in shadows. But he’s made a rookie mistake. He’s focussed all his attention within Numbat.’

‘Control of Numbat is the prize.’ A billion-dollar one. But clearly Jessica was missing something.

Brodie was frowning at the view of the harbour through the study window. Evidently, Vera’s point made sense to him. It had started wheels turning.

Vera continued searching for tactful phrases. ‘Maybe Derek thought he could count on your loyalty.’ The translation was wincingly clear. He’d expected to control and manipulate Jessica. ‘That meant the real obstacle to him stepping into your father’s shoes as chairman was Joe.’

‘But Joe accepted Dad.’

‘Ian was Chairman, involved in the decision to hire Joe. Both men knew what they were taking on. Your father’s position was entrenched and he spoke for you. Besides which, Ian really was good in the statesman role.’

Sitting in her dad’s study, listening to Vera’s voice suddenly warm in an acknowledgement that Ian had strengths as well as weaknesses, Jessica looked around the room from photo to photo, each expensively framed, each showing Ian in conversation with world leaders. Unexpected pain pierced her. Her dad had been happy.

Vera continued explaining things, unaware of Jessica’s inattention. ‘Derek knows Joe won’t stand for him as chairman. He’s too young, and too stupid in his arrogance. Derek’s been trying to build a faction within Numbat and its board to oust Joe.’

‘Does Joe know?’ Jessica caught herself. ‘Of course he does.’

‘It’ll be on the table at Monday’s meeting,’ Brodie said. ‘Derek or Joe.’

‘I didn’t catch…’ Vera said from her end of the phone conversation.

Jessica relayed Brodie’s observation.

Vera’s sigh was loud. ‘I’ve been thinking on it. The scene in the office Thursday morning underlined for Joe the tensions in your relationship with Derek. At Monday’s meeting he’ll test your position, then push things.’

Tension tightened Jessica’s stomach muscles. On Monday, she’d have to give the word to fire her stepbrother; him or Joe.

Brodie prised the phone out of her cold fingers. ‘Thanks, Vera. Sorry to interrupt your weekend. We’ll see you Monday.’ He disconnected.

‘He won’t have a job,’ Jessica whispered.

‘Actions have consequences.’ He switched off her phone and put it in his pocket.

‘Brodie.’

His expression was implacable, justice in all its detachment. ‘Derek made a play for everything. That sort of gamble is all or nothing. He thought he had an ace — control of you. Instead, you showed your own strength, something that’s not about money or inherited power. Quiet dignity.’

Her cold dread, born of the appalled realisation of the corner Derek has pushed her into, melted in the warmth of Brodie’s approval and support. ‘Derek couldn’t guess that I’d have a hero to support me.’

‘Darling, this is all you.’

She blinked, then her mouth trembled into a smile. ‘You’ll start me crying.’

He acted.

One moment she was behind the desk, in her dad’s chair. The next, she was out the study door and moving down the stairs.

‘Mae,’ he called. ‘We’re leaving.’

Her tears retreated. There was no time to indulge emotional tension when Action Man was around.

Mae met them at the front door. She and Jessica hugged, then she hugged Brodie.

Jessica glanced up from her own hug with Mae’s husband, Steve, to notice. It was sweet how careful Brodie was of his embrace. Mae looked fragile against his strength.

Then Brodie tooted the horn, country-style, while Mae and Steve stood on the steps, waving good-bye. The gates of the white mansion closed behind them for the last time. All her important family memories, mementos of her mum and Pops were in her Canberra home.

Jessica inhaled the scent of freedom: sea air, city smog and new car smells. ‘Can we go out tonight?’

‘Where?’ Brodie didn’t even act surprised.

‘Chinatown.’ She wanted to be among crowds. Not lost in a crowd, but found.

***

Chinatown was fabulous for walking around. Bright colours and strong scents challenged and invigorated. Small shops were open late and inviting strangers in.

They’d stopped briefly at the hotel, long enough to shower and change. Jessica had found even more mud that the shower at the commando centre had missed. She lavished on moisturiser, dried her hair so it hung straight and smooth like silk and left it free.

For walking she wore comfortable sandals that were still feminine. Thin leather straps wound around her ankles and the tiny bells on them jingled. A peasant-style shirt in white with wheat-gold embroidery above a darker, tawny, gold-brown skirt completed her outfit of freedom.

Brodie wore jeans and a black T-shirt. It worked for him.

But the magic was in walking beside him and feeling part of a couple. He held her hand. It had happened when a group of young men, happy and fooling around, crowded them off the footpath. He’d kept her close, kept her safe and kept her hand.

‘Look at that fish.’ The flaring turquoise fins and yellow stripes were incredible. Jessica loved the aquariums of Chinatown, until she remembered that many of the fish were there for eating. Then again, fish did get eaten. That was the way of the world.

And she was walking through Chinatown beside a super-protective shark.

She smiled and rested her head a moment against his shoulder, both of them watching the exotic fish in the aquarium window.

‘I have a feeling we’re not eating sushi, tonight.’

She laughed at his dry humour and took the hint. ‘Shall we eat? Choose a restaurant.’

‘Do you have a favourite?’

‘No.’

They chose a restaurant that specialised in spicy Szechuan cooking and whose popularity was noisy testimony to its quality. Weirdly, there was privacy amid the bedlam and intimacy at the small, wonky table.

Service was fast. Jessica swirled her spoon in the egg-drop soup. She tasted it. Yum. Homemade stock with a warm chilli hum and the freshness of ginger.

Across from her, Brodie wielded chopsticks in a deft attack on a plate of crispy prawns. ‘Want one?’

‘No, thanks. The soup is lovely.’

As fantastic as the food was in its simple balance of flavours, it didn’t stop her mind ticking over. Responsibility for Numbat was an inescapable burden.

‘I have to sack Derek, don’t I?’ She kept her eyes on her soup. Delicate strands of egg drifted into new patterns.

‘Joe will.’ The simple words were confirmation. ‘Derek would tear the company apart rather than let go of his sense of entitlement.’

She looked at Brodie and found him sombre. ‘Do you think Portia guessed?’

That surprised him. ‘I thought she was running from gossip, her so-called friends.’

‘Hmm.’ But Jessica had been thinking. If there’d been something to salvage in the situation, Portia would have remained. Derek was the wildcard. There’d been violence in his reaction to Anabel’s jilting and in his attack on her dad’s desk. When he lost his position at Numbat…she shivered. ‘She hasn’t stayed to fight for Derek.’

‘Would she normally?’

‘Portia always gave him what he wanted through uni. Holidays. Cars. Setting up his life.’

‘But the money was flowing then. She believed she was married to a billionaire. Would she sacrifice for him?’

How deep was Portia’s loyalty to anyone beside herself? She’d tolerated Ian’s cheating and followed his lead in pushing Jessica to the fringe of the family. She never mentioned other family members or old friends. All her friends were from the time of her marriage to Ian.

Portia had enjoyed Ian’s role as Numbat chairman, too.

Jessica barely noticed their table being cleared. She blinked as her tea-smoked duck appeared. She reached for a soft, doughy bun. ‘If Derek’s going down, I think Portia will cut him loose. She knows him. She can’t control him or reason with him. He’s spoilt.’

In front of Brodie, a platter of sizzling beef smoked. He filled a bowl with rice and the aromatic meat. ‘She’s protecting what’s left of her relationship with you, untainted by whatever Derek does.’

It hurt. And yet, hearing the truth in Brodie’s deep voice let her face it. Portia would let her son fall to keep the money flowing from Jessica. She wouldn’t fight for him.

‘Ironic,’ Jessica said in a low voice. ‘I was so scared of them teaming up to manipulate me, and now I feel like Portia’s betrayed Derek by not doing so.’

Brodie’s silence told her there were no easy answers.

Tangled loyalties, greed, fear, compassion, and her own semi-resentment of the burden her inheritance brought her made her irritable. ‘Money is nothing but trouble.’

His chopsticks paused.

‘Oh, all right.’ She ate some of the heavenly smoked-duck. ‘Lack of money is a bigger problem. But what do I do with Numbat? It just keeps on making more and more money, employing more and more people, affecting the lives of more and more people. Giving me more and more headaches. I can’t — and I don’t want – to fill Dad’s role as Chairman, but someone has to.’

‘Leave it till Monday. Joe will have some ideas.’

‘But can I trust him?’

‘His ideas will give you a reference point to frame your own intentions.’

‘Huh.’ She ate more duck, unsure if she detected a hint of nutmeg. Now her troubles were messing with her tastebuds.

‘About the money,’ Brodie began.

‘It’s yours,’ she said instantly, tamping down just as quickly her pang of disappointment. ‘A million, or whatever you need.’

He rudely pointed his chopsticks at her. ‘I am not taking your money.’

‘You’re allowed to change your mind.’

‘My point.’ His tone said she was straining his patience.

She smiled, liking that her money didn’t stand between them, that he wasn’t here with her because she was rich. ‘Go on.’

‘I get why you’re feeling weighed down by all you’ve inherited and all the changes going on, but what about thinking about the possibilities?’

‘I don’t want to buy castles in Spain, or super-yachts, or an ice cream factory.’

He blinked, momentarily derailed.

‘Rich people buy things like that,’ she explained kindly.

‘Ice cream factories?’

‘I read it in a magazine.’

He grinned. ‘There are other options.’

Her humour faded. ‘Yeah. I don’t want to sound selfish and mean, but philanthropy is a whole other burden. You have to track where the money’s spent, if it’s spent well, for what purpose, what return.’

‘You can employ people to do that. Or give to established charities.’

She smiled wryly. ‘I think there’s a bit of control freak in me. If I’m giving that much money, I want it to go to causes I believe in and places where I see a need. But I will sort something out. Talk to the lawyers. I don’t want castles or ice cream factories, but Pops’ money should be used to buy good things for people.’

‘I should have known you’d have thought of it.’

‘Why should you have?’ She was suddenly bitter, and the bitterness self-directed. ‘I could have set up a foundation years ago, but I abdicated everything to Dad.’

‘No one’s judging you, Jessica. Least of all me.’

Their empty plates were whisked away. ‘Dessert?’ Their waitress was terse and busy.

Jessica glanced at Brodie.

He shrugged, leaving the decision to her.

‘No, thanks.’

The waitress presented them with their bill and the unsubtle hint to depart and free up a table. They obeyed.

Brodie’s frown was just as unsubtle when Jessica dug in her bag for her purse: he paid. She rolled her eyes and gave in.

Outside, the streets were even busier than before. Groups were loud and cheerfully space-hogging. Couples cuddled as they walked along.

She wanted that closeness. She wanted the freedom to be joyful. But as always, she knew her limits. She’d settle for a triple-chocolate wow cake. ‘There’s a dessert bar around the corner.’

He smiled, probably at her enthusiasm. ‘Lead on.’

‘But this time I’m paying,’ she stressed.

No answer, which was his answer.

A table near the front of the bar cleared as they entered and Brodie claimed it. ‘I’ll have vanilla ice cream. You go choose what you want.’

She stared at him in disbelief. The dessert counter stretched half the length of the long, narrow bar. It contained desserts beyond imagination — although someone had to have dreamed them up, so that wasn’t quite true. Still. ‘Vanilla? Ice cream?’

‘It’s not a crime.’

‘I think it is.’

A smile crinkled his eyes, but he didn’t change his order.

‘You’re missing out.’

She arrived back at their table to find a waitress flirting with him.

To his credit, his attention was for Jessica. ‘Decision made?’

‘Triple-chocolate wow cake with extra raspberries.’

The waitress gave Jessica a look that said she’d lucked out — not on dessert, with her man — and scribbled the order.

‘Vanilla ice cream,’ Brodie said.

Jessica shrugged at the waitress’s shock.
What can you do?
she mimed. Brodie was a man who knew what he liked, and he liked real.

At that thought, Jessica smiled. ‘I’ll share some of my raspberries with you.’