After All - Part Eleven

A/N I'm back! Great time had, beautiful places seen, and more potential locations for future stories!! Every trip is an education and all that.  Hope you enjoy, Mattie's about to start turning the screw on Dylan, think all you haters will love that! :)

Chapter Eleven

When she opened her eyes, Mattie sighed. She felt a million miles better than she had an hour earlier...she glanced at the clock on the bedside table, make that three hours earlier. Yikes! She sat bolt upright then groaned. Her head was still sensitive, but the breakfast, sausages, scrambled egg and toast had hit the spot, as had a gallon of juice and sweet coffee. She hated sugar in it normally, but Dylan had insisted. Then he’d tossed her a t-shirt and shown her into the guest room. At least she was spared the trauma of sleeping in his bed, smelling his smell...but that was where the t-shirt came in. It was a worn gym shirt, grey, a little washed out and very, very soft. Since he’d been back Mattie had managed to avoid close contact with Dylan, but the moment she’d pulled the shirt over her head, she’d been inundated with sensory...and sensual memories. As she’d slept, once the exhaustion of the hangover subsided, that smell had penetrated her brain as well as her nostrils.

She realised her heart was pumping, her brow damp with perspiration, and when she closed her eyes she was back in a dream where Dylan was everywhere.

Taking a deep mind clearing breath, she turned to sit on the edge of the bed. She needed to get back to work. Something caught her eye in the corner of the room, and when she looked over she saw her jeans and t-shirt carefully piled on the chair, alongside the suit she’d slipped out of and draped over the arm. On top was a note.

                “Lunch waiting for you in the lounge, all ship-shape in the hotel. When you’re up, fed and dressed my driver will drop you home. I’ll see you in the morning.”

It wasn’t signed, but she’d recognise that sloping handwriting from a million others. She was angry that he was controlling her, that he was forcing the outcome of the day again, but a huge part of her was grateful. Her mind and body both cried out for rest, peaceful sleep in a darkened room.

The lunch was amazing, but then she discussed the menus with the chef and the manager Daniel personally. Once she’d eaten she felt even better.  She managed to get to the Management Suite without being detected, but found Dylan’s office empty.

As she made for reception Hermione smiled at her, “I hear you’re taking a half day. Enjoy. You doing anything nice?”

Mattie shook her head, “just some rest, nothing exotic.”

The receptionist smiled, “good, you deserve it. You look shattered.”

Mattie nodded, “it’s been a hard week.”

                “Mr Wallace’s car is out front. He said his driver was going back to London and he wanted to wait to give you a lift. That’s so nice.”

Spotting the hint of admiration in her friend and colleague she groaned, everyone loved the charming side of Dylan. That was his forte. Instead she wanted to scream out, because in typical Dylan fashion he’d made it impossible for her to resist his actions. Now that people knew about his generous offer she couldn’t get out of it without looking childish. Then she took stock. She was exhausted, the thought of a forty five minute tube journey didn’t inspire her, so she stopped fighting, this one time she was happy to accept his help, though she’d never let him know that his concern was well placed.

Nodding graciously Mattie hooked her bag over her shoulder then smiled, “I’ll see you in the morning. Ok?”

Mattie held the phone at arm’s length and wanted to scream. Taking a deep breath she brought the handset back to her ear. “What do you mean the agreement has ended?”

Her accountant laughed, “just that. I’ve had correspondence from the debt managers. The bill has been paid and the IVA lifted. Your credit record is a long way from healthy, but day one starts here.”

                “I’ve got six months left to pay,” she insisted. She’d planned her finances to the last penny to account for it, she knew every nuance of her financial plan as she’d been through it with a fine tooth comb.

                “Well it’s seems as though you’ve got a fairy godmother.

The penny dropped loudly AND painfully. It was no coincidence that Dylan had travelled back to New York. The bastard was at it again.

Ending the call she was unable to stop herself turning back to her computer and penning him an email.

                “You might think that playing God will make you feel better. But I see through you Dylan Wallace, I am not your charity case and I am not the person to take your guilt out on. If you feel bad donate to Save the Children, NOT me. Do you understand?”

It didn’t make her feel any better, but with a wedding planned for the coming weekend and a hotel that was up for sale she didn’t have time to dwell on his actions. She had a job to do.

Dylan was tired; leaving his office for the last two weeks had been a disaster for his other affairs. Brandy his assistant had kept him informed over the duration of his time out, and he’d managed to deal with things on a superficial level, but now that he was back in the heart of Manhattan he was swamped. But for all his moaning, he was glad to get away, and free up his mind to something other than his ex wife.

His phone rang and he was immediately engrossed in some running issues with a factory he owned in Connecticut. It was a small part of what had become an empire, but each cog was vital in the scope of things. A reduced productivity issue was just that. An issue that needed his attention. He was lucky in that in his bigger acquisitions he had trusted people at the helm, but this smaller place wasn’t so fortunate.

After his call ended he immediately dialled Louise, a manager reasonably close to the factory. As he explained his predicament, and that he was needed back in London, an email popped up on his screen. The sender distracted him from the conversation, and as Louise spoke to him, he opened the email from m.davies@sunsetclub.co.uk

                “Are you listening to me Dylan?”

The question forced him back to the here and now, and still smiling he apologised. “I know I can always rely on you Louise. Are you sure you are ok with this? You’ll need to keep in touch via email...my laptop is never more than a few feet from me. Ok?”

                “Sure. It sounds straight forward. If it’s more taxing or problematic I’ll call you. I got it.”

Louise was one of his best associates; she managed several of his companies from her office in Brooklyn, well. She was competent, capable, and he knew he could relax with her at the helm. Hanging up the phone, he turned back to his computer.

Matilda.

Not someone he could relax and leave alone.

He smiled at the anger in her email, but as always it was tinged with natural humour, and that pleased him. She’d obviously found out that he had settled her debt. That he’d pulled her out of a financial hole of his making. That he’d started to right the wrong he’d started years ago. Sighing he slumped back in his seat. He’d been driven for as long as he could remember, maybe it was seeing his mother bounce from one rich man to another, striving for a financial security that never satisfied her, maybe it was the lack of a childhood home, the lack of family that made him seek a base, his own home his own world. But in reality, that same drive for success had seen him lose Matilda, the person who had offered all that he wanted in life.

He could remember the day that he received the divorce papers like it was yesterday. He’d borrowed another fifty thousand from a not so straight forward source before he left the country and met up with two other investors across the globe. He’d spent his adult life chasing tip offs, looking for that one thing that would give him the start he’d dreamed of. Since he’d met Matilda he’d wanted to be there for her, provide for her, look after her. But to him that meant he needed to make a fortune, enough that she’d be happy, enough that he’d be enough for her. The thought of not being enough for her still haunted him to this day.

The day the divorce papers arrived signalled the day that he and his new colleagues took control of the failing air conditioning company, ironically his marriage died the day his success started. Were the two interlinked? He knew that his anger at Matilda since, the sense of loss and frustration that she had directly caused in his life had pushed him on, made him keen to prove her wrong. He’d felt she was wrong to reject him, wrong to doubt him and wrong to not support him when everything he did was for her.

Now that looked like childish twaddle and he wondered how different life would have been if he’d made her his true priority. He sighed, she should have been. He’d loved her like no one before...he laughed, and no one since. But he’d been blinkered; his own goals had blinded him to what was happening. She had every right to hate him, and right now he’d settle for her friendship. She was wise, caring and honest. He needed someone like her in his life.

“Matilda, I presume you’ve discovered my subterfuge. I didn’t tell you as I knew you’d fight against any attempt for me to do the right thing. I feel dreadful that you’ve carried my debt for years. That changes now, whether you like it or not, not because I want to do the right thing - I already donate to Save the Children, but because you don’t deserve all that you’ve had. I’ll be back in a couple of days; I have a few buyers interested. Keep your diary free on Thursday, we have plans.”

He hit send and sighed, it was hopefully going to be read in the way it was intended. He had to treat Matilda carefully. Too much affection would be seen as him being sly, if he was ruthless he’d hurt her...instead he had to hope that he could navigate the stormy sea that was her fragile emotional state.

Matilda could do nothing but ignore his email, she couldn’t work out what he was trying to say, and it was rare that someone flummoxed her, but then she’d stopped thinking that she could ever understand the enigma that was Dylan Wallace. She had bigger fish to fry, and that afternoon she’d arranged to show a group of men around the hotel. Closing the screen she picked up the phone and called through to Martin, as manager of the front of house, his input this day was vital.

                “I need everything ready for three, are your team set?”

He chuckled in his supremely confident way, “of course Mattie. Have no fear, the place looks amazing, I was just with Dan and there’s coffee and pastries being set up in the conference room as we speak, and Fabio assures me that the gym has never been so immaculate or so busy. So take a deep breath and drink some coffee darling.”

She smiled at his comment, but as she hung up the computer screen in front of her gloated that she hadn’t responded to her ex husband.

With a sigh she opened the window and started to type.

                “I have a feeling you will do whatever you want.

I’m showing several people from Costrel Enterprises around this afternoon. I’ve told them to contact you if they have an opinion on the place.”

Dylan’s jaw dropped, slack with surprise, or was it shock...or worry? He knew Adam Costrel of old; he was everything that Dylan swore he wouldn’t be. An asset stripper, a demolisher of acquisitions like the Sunset Club. There was no way on earth that he’d oversee him buying the place from Paul...he had to find al alternative fast. He thought about calling Matilda, explaining his concerns, but she hated him, whatever he said, she’d turn around and use against him, so instead he had to let his actions speak louder than his words for a change.

After All - Part Ten

A/N Sorry at the delay in posting, I'm on holiday and have no wifi/internet...you do not want to know where I am at this moment in order to post...sacrifices (McDonald's free wifi!!)

Will try and post asap, story still growing!

Chapter Ten

                “So we’ve got a busy month approaching.” Mattie ended the meeting, “as always, thanks for your hard work and commitment.”

They all nodded favourably, chattering genially, and as they were about to stand, dismissing themselves, Dylan cleared his throat.

                “Guys, just to let you know I’ve concluded my assessment on the hotel.”

All fourteen eyes shot to him immediately and he felt a moment of discomfort, but this wasn’t the first time he was delivering bad news, the fact that it was to Matilda couldn’t worry him.

                “Well I’ve made a dossier of recommendations and forwarded it to Paul last night.” Seeing the worry he sighed, “unfortunately Paul doesn’t really agree with my findings.” He sighed, “no, that’s not actually true.” As everyone stared at him he cursed Paul Simmonds for forcing this decision, this announcement on him. “I gave Paul an eighteen point plan of recommendations which covered all the areas that I see as weakness. Unfortunately Mr Simmonds is rather distracted by the recent issues with his family, and has decided that the list is insurmountable in his current predicament.”

Martin, head of the front of house was never one to hold back his words and emotions chirped, “brilliant, so we can all relax again. Thank God!” He accompanied the words with a very dramatic roll of the eyes.

Dylan would have laughed at his presumption if this wasn’t such an emotive issue. “It’s not quite that easy. Mr Simmonds, Paul, well he’s withdrawing, cutting his losses as he put it.” He noticed with irony that it was only Matilda who actually realised what he was trying to say.

                “He’s selling?” She breathed, looking more terrified than he had ever seen her.

Giving a slight but decisive nod, he turned to her, “he’s asked me to oversee any sale. So I will be staying until the place has a new owner.”

                “And our jobs?”

Dylan had to literally force his attention to the second voice, Sarah, the assistant manager.

                “Obviously the new owner will want staff. There’s no guarantee that they’ll keep everyone on, but it’s really rare for someone to come into a business as big as this and bring a new team.”

He watched as Matilda swallowed, nervously, she knew that she was the one most at risk. That a new owner was likely to bring a new manager, someone they trusted to run the place. He gave her a sad smile; there was nothing else he could say to her. He wasn’t about to boost her confidence in a misplaced manner.

Mattie watched all six of her managers leave in a bewildered state, then let down her guard, slumping back into the seat nausea threatening to overwhelm her.

                “You ok?”

She cursed to herself, she’d forgotten about Dylan for a moment. Taking a deep breath she searched for a smile, then pasted it on her face, “fine, just fine.”

As she made to stand up he reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She glanced down at him, “don’t Dylan. Just don’t.”

She held it together, kept her emotions in check until she closed her office door behind, then she crumpled in devastation. This was her chance; Paul had given her so many promises, assurances that this was her future, but now? She shook her head, trying to focus through a veil of tears, damn you Paul Simmonds, and damn you Dylan Wallace for being the one to have to tell me.

She ignored the knock at her door, she needed time to compose herself, and she wanted to speak to Paul, to hear the words coming direct from his mouth, the man that had promised her security and a future.

Picking up her phone, she dialled his number, but it went straight to answer phone. Taking a deep breath she sighed, “Paul, can you please call me back asap, I have just heard from Mr Wallace that you’re selling this place. I’d like to know if it’s true...” her voice faltered at the end and she took another gulp of air. “Don’t worry about what time it is, I’ll be happy to speak to you at any time.”

Dylan sat at his computer, his head hanging, trying desperately to ignore the sobs he could hear emanating through the walls from the adjacent office. He’d seen Matilda pale, seen her shock at the news, and whilst he knew she’d be gutted about the sale, he was surprised to hear just how devastated she was. Then he slumped back in the chair, he knew that him being there, the fact that is was him delivering the news would have been then nail in the coffin. No matter what he did he only seemed to make her feel worse. Maybe he should reject helping Paul to sell this place. He could leave her in peace. Then he acknowledged the conflict against that decision, if he brokered a deal at least he could make sure that she was looked after, that the new buyers were genuine, not asset strippers. He could help her in this, that wasn’t selfish. Was it? He really truly wanted to do good by her. He sighed, was that to allay his own guilt or a genuine desire to see her do well? He hoped it was the latter, but he’d become known as a ruthless bastard over the last five years, did he have that caring level in him anymore?

It was early afternoon when there was a knock at his door. He was foregoing lunch and sending out feelers to every entrepreneur he knew in London to highlight the benefits of the place. The fact that he’d analysed it, worked out a three year business plan was a bonus to someone still trying to feel his feet, Sylan Wallace was a known name and he figured that it would boost interest in the sale.

                “Come in,” he called out as he sent the latest in a dozen or more emails. Looking up he smiled genuinely pleased when he saw a now composed Matilda in front of him. “You ok?”

She nodded briskly, not wanting any reference to the break down they both knew she’d had. “I’ve not been able to get hold of Paul. Have you spoken to him today?”

He shook his head, “I spoke to his yesterday and last night, to be honest he said he was really busy out in California, it took me most of the weekend to get hold of him.”

The reference to their encounter on Saturday hung between them, and Dylan was the first to speak, “look about Saturday...”

She held a hand to silence him, “we’re talking about Paul.”

He slammed his fist down on the desk in anger, then stood to face her, “damn it Matilda, you won’t talk to me. I get that you hate me, I get that leaving for Hong Kong left you in the lurch, I had NO idea you took on my debt, and I had NO idea about your mother, I know sorry is a weak word here, but it’s the only one I have to convey how I feel.”

She smiled but there was no warmth in it, “firstly I don’t hate you, I have no feelings, not really. Secondly, I’m not sure you know what you’re apologising for.”

                “Then tell me! I have had investigators trying to find the debt I knew I’d left behind for years, but no one could find trace of it...I was told that it had obviously been wiped out because I was out of the country for so long. I swear that I was trying to sort it. I had no clue that it had landed with you.”

She rolled her eyes, “money means nothing, not really. I don’t mind living in a small bedsit in a shitty part of London, I don’t mind working weekends to survive...” She took a deep breath, “recovering and rebuilding has been kind of cathartic, because let’s not beat around the bush, YOU left me, when I needed you most. That was what hurt me so much. When my father crumpled into a hell without my mother, whilst I was evicted from our home, whilst the divorce papers came back from you UNCONTESTED, I had to deal with everything alone. THAT was what hurt. When I married you I thought that was over, that I’d never be alone again...I think the acknowledgement and then the realisation that I made such an error in who I chose to spend my life with...THAT’S what hurt the most, knowing that everything was MY fault. My fault for believing that you were who you said you were, that you’d love and cherish me till death do us part.” She sighed slightly, “but I did, and you didn’t. But I’m good now. So if you’re apologising for a couple of hundred thousand pounds...then I don’t give a shit. If you’re apologising for ruining everything I believed about myself and the world...then thank you. Right now I have work to do. If you speak to Paul then could you tell him I’m not angry, I just need to talk to him.”

As she walked out the room he knew that his jaw was still slack with amazement.  

Mattie felt almost cathartic after her outburst, who needed counselling when you had the chance to get everything out of your system face-to-face with the person who caused your turmoil? She imagined that she’d feel exposed, vulnerable if she told him how she felt, but she felt amazing, released. She hadn’t vocalised just why she resented Dylan, and as she tore a strip off him everything slotted into place and she felt healed finally. The look of devastation on his face made her a little smug, but she promised herself that that wasn’t why she smiled all afternoon.

She bounced out of the wide gates to the club a few hours later and smiled as she looked around herself, seeing the early green of spring in the trees, the smell of the daffodils in a whole new light. She may have financial and employment torment ahead, but for now she was feeling good, feeling great, a huge weight off her mind.

Andy knocked her door later that night; a few of his friends were going up town for a few drinks. Normally she’d turn that down, but tonight she nodded eagerly and changed into her glad rags.

                “Come in,” she offered quietly at the knock on her door just after nine. Her head was throbbing, but then she didn’t normally drink, not to the excesses of the previous evening. Her eyes hurt, her ears hurt...even her tongue hurt. Looking up with a grimace, she almost cried in frustration to see Dylan stood there looking impeccable as always, a sympathetic smile on his generous lips.

                “you ok? You look a little...”

She sighed, “for the first time in years I had a night out. Get over it. Sack me. Whatever.”

Then she slumped her head onto her folded arms on the desk.

With a soft chuckle, Dylan walked towards her, she could hear that from her blind position, then he picked up her phone. That caused her to roll her head to the side and watch as he dialled reception.

                “Hermione? It’s Dylan. I’m having a meeting with Matilda in my suite upstairs; we’ve got a conference call from New York. Can you send coffee, juice and a breakfast tray up please?...Brilliant.” Then he looked down his eyes meeting hers, “you need food, and a sleep. I’ll cover today. Come on.”

He pulled her by the arm to her feet then frogmarched her towards the door, “but they’ll know it’s four am in New York. They’ll know...”

He shook his head, “au contraire, it’s a VERY interested buyer who can’t wait until morning. Relax. No one is judging you for finally letting your hair down. I’m thinking that this is something you should have done a LONG time ago.”

After All - Part Nine

Chapter Nine

Dinner and champagne had done little to lift either his bad mood or his hangover, but Patrick was very good company and he was slowly easing the pain of the previous day. Dylan didn’t want to move from the beautiful restaurant with the amazing view at the Shard to the boat party, but Patrick was like a child at the thought of glamour, frivolity and freebies. So Dylan, as usual had bitten the bullet and followed his lead. The upper deck was heaving, full of young and very beautiful people dancing, the influential and often not quite so beautiful circulated at the fringe and it reminded him just how seedy life could be.

                “There are a couple of lower decks,” Patrick had offered sensing Dylan’s lethargy at the place and situation. “Might be a little quieter.”

Dylan groaned, “you’re not going to let me get out of here before the early hours, so get on with it, get me a drink.”

Laughing Patrick led him into the lower bar.

                “Mojito or Margarita?” Patrick asked, and Dylan glanced at the bar for a moment, rathering beer to anything else on offer.

                “I’ll take a Bud,” he replied as he glanced at the barmaid...then froze. For a split second.

If he doubted who he was seeing in front of him, then her flush of embarrassment confirmed, that despite the red hair, the brown eyes - he had no idea how she managed to look so different, but there was no hiding from the fact that moonlighting as a barmaid in this hospitality bar was Matilda, his high achieving, business analyst ex-wife. Serving cocktails...

Patrick was oblivious to the tension as she opened the bottle of beer for him, her companion behind the bar was making his friend a Sex on the Beach, which was making Patrick giggle like a fourteen year old boy instead of the almost forty year old he was. When Matilda’s eyes finally lifted to his, met the stare he knew she could feel on her, he gave his head a little shake, it was both of disproval and a conspiracy that he wouldn’t out her, not here, not now.

Instead he backed away to lean against a window sill, the view of light-lit London behind him, but the only thing he was concentrating on was the woman who was struggling to function in his gaze.

As he watched her, sipping on his beer, he was aware of Patrick chatting to two young ladies across the room, but he wasn’t interested. Matilda. Why was she doing this? Helping someone out? Was this a business venture? Suddenly he needed to know.

The man who was behind the bar with her was protective of her, he could see that in his gestures, the way he spoke to her, so Dylan waited patiently, he was good at that. Finally the man disappeared somewhere, he didn’t know nor care where, instead he strode across to the bar.

                “Another beer please, and an explanation as to what the HELL you are doing here.”

Mattie had been on tenterhooks since he’d walked into the bar, as he’d approached, finally, she felt relief; the distance across the room was no real barrier, if anything she felt more exposed, more vulnerable as he stared at her. But now that he was in front of her, she felt sick, and then he opened his mouth.

                “Dylan Wallace, you are NOTHING to me. You hear me?” She snapped open a beer and slid it in front of him, “so get over yourself.”

As she turned away, his hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to turn back to him.

                “You think that? Really? I’ve been trying to suss out what’s happening here since I got here. You are stood here, in disguise, incognito. That means that this isn’t legit. You are up to no good. And I want to know why.”

She gave a quick nod of disgust, “what I do has NOTHING to do with you!”

That caused him to lift an eyebrow, study her for a moment, “you sure about that?”  When she didn’t answer he drank a mouthful of beer. “Whatever you’re up to, it’s going to get you into trouble. You might not think it, but I care about what happens to you.”

She laughed out loud, “YOU? Yeah right! I work here for cash so that I can afford to live because fifty percent of my salary goes into paying off YOUR debt. So don’t stand there in your Saville Row bespoke suit and tell me that you are worried about me, that you care about me, because that boat sailed many a year ago.”

Mattie was never so glad as when she turned to see some patrons further along the bar, it gave her the chance to escape at a very timely moment. And by the look on his face, Dylan was furious at that chance.

                “What’s with the moody bastard over there?” Half an hour Andy nodded in the direction of Dylan and nudged her.

She shrugged as she shook a cocktail shaker full of what was about to become a Mojito. “Probably got stood up...or dumped...or maybe he’s impotent?” That made her laugh, and Andy looked at her with wide eyes.

                “You feeling evil tonight?”

Laughing she tipped the contents of the shaker into a glass of ice and mint, “nope, can just spot a loser from fifty metres.” Now! She almost added, eight years too late.

                “Two hours to go.” He grinned, “then as much sausage, bacon and fried egg that you can stomach.”

Her stomach lurched at the thought, whilst she wasn’t hungry at the moment, she knew in a few hours once she’d got the smell of beer out of her nostrils she’d change her mind.

It was hard working under the scrutiny of Dylan, who was looking increasingly more angry, uncomfortable, flushed. He’d been served by Andy a couple of times, but avoided her as much as she was avoiding him, not that he seemed to want to do anything but stare at her. The man she realised he was with, she recognised him as Dylan’s golf partner from earlier in the week, had struck lucky with a young busty blonde, and the two were rather obscenely exchanging saliva in the corner of the now busy room. That only seemed to incense Dylan further.

Once the bar was closed, people still danced and talked, there had been some presentation on the top deck, but most on her level weren’t interested. They were there for the free food and drink.

                “Let’s get cleaned up as quick as we can, then we’ll get out of here,” Andy called across as the manager cashed up the till.

She nodded, cleaning the counters as he stored the bottles and remaining beers into the lockable cooler behind them. They worked well as a team.

                “I’ll just take these down to the cellar.” Andy indicated to three crates at the top of the staircase that led down to the large lower level store room.

                “I’ll empty all the bins, then we’re done.”

Andy grinned, “cool. I’ll find whoever that manager was and get our wages.”

She watched him disappear, then walked around the edge of the bar into the room with a huge refuse sack then proceeded to empty all the bins into it.

                “I can’t believe you’re doing this!”

A voice hissed from her left, she didn’t need to look up to know who it was. “Dylan please.”

That made him laugh and her head snapped up to glare at him, “LEAVE it!”

                “No.” He stepped towards her, “I want to talk to you. I get that here...you’re someone else. I’m not about to shop you...but I want to talk to you...explain.”

Exasperated she shook her head, “you seem to think that I give a shit. You’re wrong I don’t. Ok. You are a work associate for the next few weeks...at worst months, after that, we go back to being strangers. Why complicate this?”

                “Because I’m not that man.”

She sighed, “I’m not interested in what you are or aren’t. You WERE my husband, you DID leave me in a hole. But now we are nothing to each other. So let it go, think nice thoughts, enjoy your wealth and your free food and drink. Ok?”

She spotted his hesitation and used that moment to slink off into the distance, glad when she spotted Andy in the distance waving a wad of cash.

Introspection wasn’t the best accompaniment to a second hangover. Dylan had never been more glad to get back to the hotel and work. Sunday evening alone in a suite of rooms that faced out into torrential rain wasn’t so great a place in reality. It did however spur him into concluding his report for Paul Simmonds. The older man had sounded terrified when they talked about what he wanted Dylan to achieve, but when he got hold of the older man Sunday evening, he sounded disinterested and preoccupied.

At nine am, he was sat in the boardroom attached to Matilda’s office waiting for everyone to arrive. He’d told the reception staff that he was calling a meeting, and emailed all the staff. But no one else was there.

Just as he was about to stand, storm to reception huffing and puffing, the door flew open and a rather flushed Matilda spilled in, and she froze when she spotted him sat inside her domain.

                “Dylan what are you doing here?”

He was staring at her; she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, one that he remembered buying for her on their honeymoon...two blissful weeks in Miami.

He shook his head to clear the memories, “I called a meeting, I emailed everyone...”

                “First Monday of the month we always have a breakfast meeting in the Garden Restaurant, nine thirty sharp. You’re invited...” With that she passed him in long strides, disappearing through a door at the far end of the office space.

                “Good morning!”

Dylan watched in disbelief as Matilda glided into the restaurant. Six others plus him were sat at a large table, coffee and a variety of breakfast items spread out in front of them. All six smiled up at her with an almost godlike appreciation. If only they knew.

                “Did you have a nice weekend Mattie?” Sarah asked as she lowered herself into the chair at the head of the table.

She gave a nod, “brilliant thank you. How was it here?”

All the while she avoided looking at him, and to Dylan it was a sign that she was still bothered by their unexpected encounter, she knew that he could bring all this crashing down around her. Mattie. He hated that name; she was Matilda, always Matilda. But was that because a large reason for her name change was due to his inattentiveness? Instead of challenging anything at that moment, he sat back and waited, he’d take control at some point. They all had to know the outcomes of the discussions with Paul in California. No one would be happy. But that wasn’t his problem. He would be gone in a few weeks. That was his job, and it was almost over.

After All - Part Eight

Chapter Eight

                “I’ve got another twenty four hours in London...the City that never sleeps...come on!”

Dylan sighed still not lifting his face from the bed, barely holding the handset; he’d had a late night and was in no hurry to head out. “I thought that was New York,” he offered with a groan.

Patrick wasn’t taking telling, “come on buddy, I enjoyed our golf last week, but we haven’t hit the town for ages. I’ll meet you at four, dinner at floor thirty of the Shard; I’ve heard it’s amazing there. Then there’s this party, Men and Health Magazine are having a party on a boat on the Thames. Women, free drink and glamour! How can you say no?”

Dylan groaned again, “I’m not in the mood Patrick.”

The other man sighed down the phone, “I don’t know anyone else in town, not anyone that can party like Dylan Wallace anyway. You were never one to turn down a good time...what’s changed? That little ex wife of yours?”

That made Dylan rolled over, he took in the fact that he was in his bedroom, not the golf club hotel, but his apartment in London. He was still wearing his suit, and his tie, that was almost choking him as he woke in his post alcohol haze unable to remember getting there.

                “It’s nothing to do with her!” It’s EVERYTHING to do with her. “I just need some rest.”

Patrick laughed, “four pm. The Shard. BE there.”

As the phone went dead Dylan tossed it across the room, he tried to sit up, but his head was banging, the world spinning. He groaned, his last memory was hitting a bar in Soho after storming out of the hotel and getting out of his car in the City. Whisky...he’d started with single malts in a hotel bar and moved onto several other places.

And now? Now he had the hangover from hell. Did he feel better for it?

Do you hell? That damned internal vocal reminder refused to settle down. But it was right, he’d drunk to forget the chaos and destitution he’d caused Matilda, and none of that had gone away. Had he worn blinkers through those days? He’d wanted the best for her, the best for them, and he was so sure that one of his tip offs, one of his plans would come good. All she’d needed to do was wait, trust him. For six years he’d thought she’d given up on him, that she’d moved on to pastures new, wanting better, more...not being willing to wait, to see the future he saw. All the time he had been turning the screw, making things harder and harder, straining their relationship beyond belief and forcing her into a ridiculous situation.  

He remembered her mother being ill, taken into hospital, Sylvia Davies was a lovely woman, she’d always looked out for him, he had the extra portions of everything for Christmas lunch and she defended him whenever Matilda was critical of her husband. Those years as part of her family had been amazing...he’d not had that until he met her, his mother was a polygamous socialite who didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, holidays in his childhood had been to Cannes to shoulder rub with rich and famous men, he’d tagged along or been palmed off on the latest in a string of nannies. But time with the Davies family, coming home to a wife who’d made him dinner, waking up with a woman who loved him was a long time ago. Many years where his bitterness and hatred had escalated in rapid proportions.

Hong Kong had been his most confident tip off to date. He could remember his elation at the thought of finally getting his chance. Admittedly he’d not been as honest as he could have been to Matilda, but then she’d been jaded, snappy before that point. He’d called her, told her he was heading to Hong Kong; she’d been disappointed, but no more. Dylan sighed remembering how he’d got the remainder of the money that he needed for the trip, phone calls to a loan company, the money transferred directly to his contact and partner for the deal. He’d never thought that the debt would land on her.

He’d been in Hong Kong a couple of days when she stopped answering her phone. It was hectic there, business was good, the deals were brokering, he’d presumed that he could work things out with her, make it up to her once he got back to London, but after a couple of months the divorce papers appeared at his desk.

Instead of dealing with how that made him feel, he signed them, not contesting the grounds of unreasonable behaviour, and posted them back. He was moving on to New York high on success when the decree absolute found him, and by then he didn’t care about her anymore, and he told himself he hadn’t until he walked into her hotel a week earlier.

A shower helped. He felt a little more alive. But as he scrubbed himself clean the image of Matilda’s mother Sylvia popped repeatedly into his mind. He couldn’t imagine the house in Oxfordshire without her in it. To him she epitomised everything that a mother should be, she was always happy, smiling, always hugging her daughter, and later him, and then there was the constant smell, fresh bread, coffee, cakes, pies. The house was so homely, and that was what he’d loved, along with the banter between the parents and their children. How would it be without her there at the helm? How had Matilda coped with losing someone so important?

He ran his hands over his face in frustration, he’d abandoned her too. Left her at the same time, they’d argued, he KNEW her mother was ill, but he had chased his dreams anyway. Then the debt had caught up with her instead of him, and she’d had to deal with bankruptcy at the same moment she lost her influential and much loved parent.

He was a bastard. His mother told him repeatedly that he didn’t think of anyone but himself, he learned that from her, but he had always convinced himself that he was different, that he was better than his self indulgent mother. But he wasn’t. Was he?

Self hatred was a horrible thing and he eyed the bottle of whisky that tempted him from the corner of the room. He couldn’t spend another day and night buried in a bottle of whisky.

Mattie was just applying makeup when there was a knock at the door.

                “I know, I’m coming, can’t a girl be late for a change?”

Stood there laughing at her was Andrew, who lived across the hall and the closest thing to a friend that she had.

                “You can be late for fun, but not for work. COME on!”

Taking her hand he literally dragged her out of the doorway and to the stairs.

For the last three months, since Andrew’s girlfriend had disappeared, she’d been masquerading on her evening off as her. Andrew was a casual worker for a hospitality company, and she’d started to join him.  It gave her cash, in her hand, illegal but a life saver for her. It was a long time since she’d had money to spend and she needed more work clothes to maintain the elegance in keeping with her position. When Andrew’s girlfriend left town, there was a vacancy at the company. The work was both erratic and casual, and if you asked no questions you were asked none back. A win all round if you weren’t the tax man.

She’d taken on an IVA, a step down from bankruptcy when her finances became unmanageable. Most of her debt was paid off, but she was committed to paying well over fifty percent of her salary to meet her end of the bargain. It left her with little to play with after rent and travel expenses. If she was caught doing this unofficial job she’d get in real trouble, but she had struggled without things for SO long, and she didn’t mean life’s luxuries, she meant food, drink, clothes. But Mattie’s almost abstract fear was being recognised by someone, friend, colleague, a patron of the Sunset Club, or worse, so she was in ‘disguise’, an auburn hairpiece changed her own hair dramatically, brown contact lenses transformed her own blue eyes, and spectacles, black rimmed but with clear glass all helped. The lenses had been expensive, but SO worthwhile.

Tonight she was joining Andrew at a PR party. These were the easiest nights, drunken people on a free night tipped hugely, especially when they got drunk. For these nights she was the most anonymous and usually earned loads of money serving drinks. The easiest money she could make.

The party when they arrived was quiet, but it had all the makings of a wild night. A decommissioned boat on the Thames with two different bands playing on two of the levels, four bars, two buffets, and dance space for several hundred people. As Mattie joined Andrew behind one of the bars, she could barely see for the money lust washing over her. It was pure greed and self indulgence, but the following day she was planning a trip to the salon, hair, waxing, the whole works. With Dylan being around her was feeling the need to both look AND feel good.

Bar work was easy to her, something that she felt natural doing, and to do it well wasn’t easy, but on the other hand it wasn’t as taxing as some of the other jobs she’d had in the past five years. For a month she was a security door worker at a nightclub, or then there were the night shifts at a rather dodgy petrol station. No she’d done worse, but she couldn’t risk being spotted, recognised.

                “Cocktail list.” Andrew called out from her right and glancing up she took the list from him, Mojito, margaritas, sex on the beach. Nothing too challenging. Giving a nod she looked up at the first customer with a smile. Candy from a baby, she sighed to herself as she started to deposit the increasingly larger notes in her back pocket.

                “Think of the feast we’re going to have in Khalif’s cafe when we get home, four course breakfast at five am. Sound good?”

Mattie glanced up and smiled at Andrew, “amazing. Counting down the minutes.”

Turning back to the people approaching the bar, a smile plastered on her face, she froze, heart stopping, breath whooshing from her lungs. There in front of her, waiting for a drink, for a moment unaware of who she was, a natural smile on his lips, was Dylan.

After All - Part Seven

Chapter Seven

Two days later and Sarah her deputy, was back from her jaunt, some winter sun in Cyprus. Mattie had managed to avoid being alone with Dylan, she had no intention of discussing anything with him at the moment. Friday afternoon, as with most weeks, they had a managers meeting to thrash out the coming seven days. She was lucky in that her team were full of initiative and these were enthusiastic events. An hour before the meeting Sarah burst into her office looking tanned and extremely happy. Mattie wasn’t expecting to see her friend and deputy this side of the weekend gave her a grin. “Nice to see you Miss Price!”

Sarah smiled at Mattie and ‘accidently’ wafted her hand in the air, and Mattie gasped, she was sporting a rather huge diamond ring on her finger.

                “Oh My God!” Mattie jumped up, the initial relief and pleasure at seeing her colleague only increased with happiness for her. “Steve popped the question?”

The two hugged, then as she admired the ring in more detail, Sarah sighed, “it was SO romantic, we went scuba diving, and he ‘found’ the ring amongst some coral. Then he had a laminated card in his pocket with ‘will you marry me?’ on it.”

Mattie felt tears well in her eyes for her friend, “I TOLD you that man was a keeper! Have you set the date?”

Sarah shook her head, “not yet. Two sets of parents still need to get their opinion in! So what have I missed? Thought I’d catch up before the meeting. How was your weekend off? Did Paul cope with holding the fort?”

Mattie sighed, “get a coffee. There’s a lot to tell you.”

Sarah was bewildered, staring at her friend as though she had suddenly started to speak French as the whole week’s events came out. “I can’t believe Paul would do this to you...to us.”

Mattie smiled bravely, “we’ve got nothing to hide, this place is ship shape. He just needs someone to tell him where he’s going wrong because that’s what this is, he’s always been unrealistic.” Mattie was like a step daughter to Paul, since they’d met at a job fair a few years earlier he’d looked out for her. When he acquired the golf course and hotel four years earlier he told her she was his first choice to manage it. She’d been in post since and they’d been friends AND colleagues. But this blip, this search for something beyond the reasonable was against his character.

                “So this consultant...how long is he here?”

Mattie shrugged and started to fiddle with the pile of papers on her desk, “not sure...”

Sarah watched her for a moment, Mattie could feel her eyes studying her long before she spoke, “Mattie, what is it?”

She slumped in her chair and sighed, “well he didn’t care about broadcasting it to whoever listened...Dylan Wallace...the consultant, he’s my ex husband.”

Sarah couldn’t look more surprised if Mattie had grown an extra head, “you were married? I had no idea...you’ve never hinted...”

Mattie grabbed her mug of coffee, “it didn’t end well...I have tried to forget it. But as soon as he arrived he wanted to share our history with the world.”

                “Nice,” Sarah offered in a conspiratorial way, “way to make things easy here.”

Mattie rolled her eyes, “you have NO idea.” she handed her colleague a wad of papers, “information before the meeting, if you want to catch up, I’m just going to check the kitchen has coffee on its way.”

When she returned Sarah was up to speed and they were discussing an upcoming conference that Paul had booked when her office door swung open and Dylan stood there.

Mattie groaned, then shook her head, “hurt you to knock?”

                “Ha! You’d not answer.” He turned his eyes to Sarah, “you must be Sarah Price. Back from your holiday.” He extended a hand, “I’m Dylan Wallace, I’m sure Matilda has told you ALL about me.”

Sarah took the hand and smiled, “not much to tell apparently. Nice to meet you Mr Wallace.”

He had a retort poised on his lips, Mattie could tell, but a knock at the door silenced him.

                “Staff with courtesy!” She offered staring at the closed door, then giving him a quick glare, “does this mean you’re staying for the meeting?”

He nodded, “is that a bad thing?”

Shaking her head she opened the office door and the five other managers filed in, chatting then reaching for essential coffee.

The meetings were sometimes stressful, but usually quite good natured, each of her managers was well driven and turned up weekly with new projects, ideas and initiative.

                “What are the plans for the weekend? Daniel how’s the conference looking?”

He nodded, “all sorted, ninety five accountants, sixty of whom are staying for two nights. Three course lunches and dinner for most too. It’s a nice earner for us.”

Mattie beamed, “and housekeeping are up to it James?”

As James held court, his favourite thing, Mattie looked around, and sighed, Dylan was watching her again. He wasn’t about to give up on her.

When everyone filed out, Sarah stayed behind to catch up on all that was missed, Dylan hovered for a little while, but as they remained engrossed in work, he finally left.

An hour later Mattie was alone, finishing off her work before the weekend to herself that loomed so temptingly, when there was a knock at her door.

                “Come in!” she called from her position ransacking the filing cabinets for a relating to the upcoming golf tournament. Sighing with frustration she kicked the drawer closed then looked up to see Dylan lounging against the door frame, she couldn’t have contained the groan if she’d tried.   “What do you want?”

He laughed, “so genial and helpful to everyone else but still hostile to me.”

She shook her head, “I’m not hostile, I’m tired, busy and wanting to get out of here. Anything wrong with that?”

Shrugging he moved across the room to stand in front of her, “you’re avoiding me.”

                “I’m avoiding the past Dylan. I got over it years ago.”

He watched her struggle to contain her emotions and knew she was anything but over it. Holding out a cheque he sighed, “what you said earlier in the week. About being bankrupt.”

Mattie moved away from him, “I dealt with it.”

                “It was MY debt, I knew that. I just presumed you’d left it against my name. Why did you take it on?”

She was backed into a corner, physically and emotionally, it was such a hard time to remember, and he was forcing her. With a groan she looked at the cheque in his hand, it was for the exact amount of the debt he’d left. Whilst she’d had to write off the debt, she’d been unable to work for a while, fallen behind with repayment plans, she’d hidden it from so many people, working for peanuts, barely eating to keep up the pretence to friends and family that she was coping.

                “The debt was on MY credit cards, or against MY home. I couldn’t move away from it, it followed me. In the end I had to give in to it. I couldn’t just walk away, leave everything like you did.”

                “I went on business. I left for deal in Hong Kong, you KNEW that!”

Mattie fought the nausea that threatened to overtake her, “it was always so easy to you. That was the fifth whim you’d flown off on, the fifth time you’d cashed in thousands on the promise that it was yet another ‘big chance’. They never were.”

He sighed, “take this. Please.”

She grabbed the cheque and ripped it in half with a laugh, “two hundred and fifty thousand pounds? You think I believe you’re good for that? You couldn’t hold on to a fiver, you lost money like water through a sieve. Bloody hell Dylan, I wish there was more room on that little cloud of delusion for me.”

He shook his head, “you don’t get it, do you?”

                “Do I care? No.” She made to back in to her dressing room, to lock herself away from him but his voice caused her to stop.

                “It paid off this time. Hong Kong and then New York. After a dozen duds, I finally found a tip off that paid off.”

She turned slowly and stared at him, “what?”

                “Hong Kong, the investment was in air conditioning...the company bombed, but I stepped in and turned it around. Then sold it on for three times the profit, by the time I hit New York, I had found another business, did the same...I became a millionaire within a year of leaving London.”

She staggered, as she was divorcing him, struggling to deal with life he was finally making it, finally getting the rewards for all his scamming and wheeler dealer antics. She slumped into her seat, he was rich? She knew he more fine suits, had splashed cash around since he’d arrived, but Dylan had always been extravagant. She’d presumed this was no different to his exuberance of the past.

                “Take the money. You deserve it. It was MY debt not yours. All you ever did was graft honestly.”

Taking a deep breath, gathering the edges of her fraught emotions, she looked up at him, “throw money at me. Is that to help me or your guilt? Because I have lived with YOUR lies, YOUR debt, and YOUR fake promises. I am not about to take on your guilt. You hear me?”

With the door locked behind her Mattie needed time to regroup, she hadn’t really imagined that any of his harebrained schemes would pay off, he’d always been suave, sophisticated, he had a natural comfortableness in any situation. She’d presumed he was employed, working as a consultant; she had no idea that it was just part of the conglomerate that was his life. Had he always been destined for greatness? She wasn’t sure. He’d been swamped with failure for as long as she’d known him. How typical that the moment she smelled the coffee and dumped him he suddenly became the success he’d always dreamed of...the success he’d always promised her he’d be?

She showered quickly, then dressed in her jeans, shirt and boots. She hated going back to her flat in her work gear, she stood out in the area like a sore thumb, and whilst she was broke, she appeared to be the opposite in her smart work clothes. The fact that they were the only expensive things she possessed didn’t translate, and in the area she lived in standing out wasn’t good. She dry cleaned her work clothes in a laundrette near the tube station that she used to go to and from work, and in doing so her two worlds never met.

Hair brushed, face clean, she stepped out into the office to see Dylan still sat opposite her desk. If he was surprised at her appearance he hid it well.

                “I’ve nothing further to say Dylan.”

He stood and blocked her path, “well I have. I am here, and you need to face up to that.”

She turned on him, “I faced up to you and all that you did to me when you swanned off into the distance without a care in the world. My mother was ill...you KNEW that. I needed you, but the whim, the risk...the challenge of the unknown was greater than me, than the needs of your wife.”

He flinched in pain at that, “how is she? Your mother.”

Mattie closed her eyes for a moment, then pinched the bridge of her nose; it still hurt to think of the eight weeks that saw her mother turn from a vibrant vivacious woman to the skeletal ghost who passed away in her father’s arms. Cancer, a cruel illness.

Looking up she sighed, “she died Dylan, my mother died less than two months after you took the last fifty thousand pounds of our credit limit, against our home and pissed off to pastures new.”

                “Shit.” He stood up, “I had no idea...”

Mattie sighed, “why would you? You left and didn’t care about me. You were after the next challenge; all you cared about was the risk of taking on long odds. Well Dylan, I was obviously yet another of those risks and you gambled with everything we had. You didn’t care that you lost me and left me with a shit load of debt that I was too busy grieving to deal with. So don’t you DARE stand there and ask me to deal with the past, to talk to you. You killed a part of me when you left, I’ll never get over your betrayal, or the hell you left me in, it was like a constant reminder for years. In six months I’ve paid off the last of the debt, it’s taken me six years, but come August I’m free...and I’m having a holiday...or maybe a meal out, because it has been a LONG time since I’ve had anything luxurious in my life.”

He tried to say something, but she held up a hand to silence him, she needed to get out, get away before she crumbled in front of him.