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.”