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.