After All - Part Three

Chapter Three

Dylan watched her walk away his jaw on the floor. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so wrong footed. Matilda, how did he not realise it was her? How did he not know what she was doing? That made him laugh, whilst he’d barely stopped thinking about her over the last six years, she’d invaded his every thought, even when he tried desperately to get over her, to move on, he’d never done anything to try and find her, that was what the pain of rejection did, made you stubborn. In his experience anyway.

Just seeing her there in front of him brought back seven shades of hell. He hadn’t lied, she looked good, time had been favourable to her. The girl he’d met back in University had been shy, quiet...that was what had attracted him to her in the first place. Where every other freshman was throwing themselves into sex, drink and often drugs, she was different. She was thoughtful, reserved, but once he got to know her, she was so much more than that.

Stood across the foyer from him in her killer heels and that smart, tailored dress, she looked so different, authoritative, powerful, successful...his body responded to that mental image, instantly hard, instantly remembering SO much.

He glanced around him; she was running this complex, managing it. It was a great move for her, and he was glad to know that she was doing well. He had wondered what had happened to her after their divorce.  The irony was that his fortunes had turned around since they’d been apart too.

Dylan looked up; Hermione was staring at him, as was John, the bell boy. Both were obviously trying to work out the link between him and their boss. He wasn’t about to create gossip, so instead he smiled genially, “so this suite?”

John nodded then led him to the lift.

It had taken Mattie a couple of hours to both recover, then prepare to see Dylan again. She was grateful that she’d been suspicious before knowing who the mystery consultant was. His office out in the golf club was far enough that she wouldn’t have to see him every few moments, and she’d make sure the reception staff were available at his every whim. She could cope with seeing him again, she honestly wanted to believe that, but if she minimised that contact it could only be a good thing.

Her office was quite large, at one end she had her desk, large, imposing and a great defence when there was an issue to deal with her, but to her right was a conference table that could seat comfortably eight, but more if they had to. She held her regular group meetings there, but she figured if Dylan was going to insist on being part of these meetings then she’d have to change the location. Her office was her domain, she wasn’t about to give up on that.  Paul’s office was adjacent to hers; it was far smaller, as he rarely used it. But once she composed herself, regained her control, she’d gone in there and made it inhabitable...unplugged the computer, cluttered the desk with Paul’s paperwork, pictures, then removed furniture.

She had just returned to her desk and the pressing issues of capacity figures when her door burst open.

Looking up she saw John smiling apologetically as Dylan stormed into the room.

                “You expect me to work THERE?”

She was tempted to smile at Dylan’s anger, but instead she took a deep breath then turned to John at the door, “it’s ok John. You go.”

As the man nodded she stood and walked towards him, “don’t come here demanding, pressurising my staff. You are here to look for problems, NOT to disrupt my team. You hear?”

That made him laugh, “you think? Have you any idea how worried Paul is?”

That flummoxed her, she believed that Paul wanted attention, fame of sorts; she didn’t expect that there were real problems.

                “Paul is happy with the work we do here Dylan, don’t threaten me.”

At that Dylan laughed, “I am here to get to grips with the problems, and I can’t do that from some Mickey Mouse office in that fun house!”

She bit her lip at his reference to the golf club; he wasn’t far from the mark. “It’s all we have.”

He shrugged, “not my problem, there’s a lot of room in here. I can set my laptop up on your conference table...”

Immediately Maddie panicked, she couldn’t have him here, working in her office. It would kill her. All of a sudden she realised that she’d shot herself in the foot decommissioning Paul’s office. Dylan was nothing if not stubborn; she had visions of her exploding if he stayed in her office, working there every day.

As she looked up at him he smirked and it almost killed her, he KNEW what she was doing and despite his anger he was enjoying this, every moment. She was backed into a corner, and she had no way out.

                “Paul has a far smaller office next door,” she mumbled.

He grinned from ear to ear, “PERFECT!” Then without being told where it was, he marched off.

One nil! Dylan grinned as he watched a couple of the reception staff rearranging the furniture in the admittedly small office. He’d loved the suite, the views of the golf course, the plush bed...it all needed a refurb, and upgrade, but it was a great suite, as hotels went. Then he’d been shown to the office that Mattie had allocated him...and he’d seen red. It was shit. No windows, poor internet reception and a ten year old desktop. He’d not even entered the room, because the location...in a golf club which instantly made him think of some random kids TV show was unacceptable, he was no mug, and definitely no fool.

This office, whilst being small, was in the heart of the reception, he was close to everyone, and next door to Matilda was perfect on two levels, obviously it was imperative in order to review the function of the hotel and club, but also she’d hate it. He knew that. But assured himself that it was purely because it went against her plans, and not because she hated him...still.

Mattie groaned at the thought of any further confrontation with her ex husband. She’d dealt with that chapter of her life. It was all over. She just had to see the next few days, weeks or god help her months, then he’d be out of her life again. Forever. Then she could relax again; take her foot off the gas. As she relaxed back in her seat, an email popped up on her screen.

                “I need to see accounts and bookings for the last six months, then the diary and projections for the next six months. ASAP. I don’t want to work all day. Then we can discuss over dinner. Dylan”

Mattie couldn’t describe how angry that presumption made her. With a deep breath she turned to her keyboard.

Dylan giggled as he opened the email.

                “Mr Wallace, contrary to popular belief I have a business to run. The files you require are on the Sunset Club Intranet, any of the reception staff can access that for you...as for dinner. There are two weddings being held here tonight, and I have a job to do. Thanks for the offer. M. Davies.”

He loved her attempts at formality, was this the time to remind her he knew that she had a mole an inch above her left nipple? M. Davies indeed.

                “Matilda, does the fact that I know your shoe size count for nothing? We can either do dinner tonight, or tomorrow. Your choice, but we will do dinner. Dylan.”

He grinned as he pressed send, but he’d barely lifted his finger off the mouse than the door flew open and she stood there.

                “What is wrong with you?”

Dylan gave her his greatest grin, “dinner between colleagues is normal Matilda. Get used to it. I’m not rushing off.”

She rolled her eyes, “you are here to scrutinise my work, what we were is nothing, I have no desire to spend time with you. Get over that Dylan, do your job, then leave me alone.”

As he watched her leave, Dylan found himself grimacing; he suddenly had no intention of letting her go. Not until he’d said what he wanted to say and told her what he had to tell her. When he walked away it would be without his demons and with his head held high, that he was sure of.

Without a wedding planner, any major problems came to the manager in charge, usually her, or Sarah the acting manager in her absence, two weddings meant double trouble, because even the most efficiently planned wedding came undone. By seven pm she had found a step ladder for a photographer, provided a replacement knife to cut a cake, and dealt with a drunken father of the bride. Quite a quiet day for two weddings. Mattie hadn’t seen Dylan, and wanted to avoid him, she’d been in work for over thirty six hours, if she caught up with Daniel, the bar and restaurant manager, she could leave, sneak out now that the difficult part of the day was complete.

Dylan was feeling jetlagged, he was shattered, but he’d been engrossed in the contents of the hotel’s external hard drive. Everything seemed in order, every document he’d opened, every account and table he’d viewed was perfectly up to date. And he was starting to get the feeling that this place was doomed, there was nothing he could do to highlight positivity for the future. He couldn’t tell Matilda that. There was no way she’d deal with that failure, and so he looked deeper. That went against his inner psych, but seeing Matilda again...it had made him rethink a lot of things.

It was late, when he finally looked up he realised how dark it had become. Stretching, he moved away from the desk. He hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, and his body was somewhere between New York and his current location. Standing he marched to reception, maybe if he ate something...kicked back a little he’d relax.

As he entered the foyer he spotted Matilda ahead of him talking to a man earnestly. Slowing his pace he moved to join them, as he got close he saw the golf club name badge on his lapel.

He spotted Matilda sigh, and hid the smile at that, as she rolled her eyes, she turned to her companion, “Daniel, this is Dylan Wallace, he’s the consultant I was telling you about. Mr Wallace, this is Daniel Powell, he’s in charge of the bars and restaurants on site here.”

Dylan was tempted to correct her on her formality, but instead he remained his professional level, smiling, “Hi Daniel,” extending a hand, he shook the other man’s. “Call me Dylan, please. I was hoping to catch up with you at some point, you around tomorrow?”

He shook his head, “I finish at two am, and I’m not in until Monday afternoon. Can I meet you then?”

As Dylan nodded, Matilda beat a hasty retreat, and there was nothing he could do to chase after her. Once he’d organised a meeting with Daniel, he set off in search of her, only to be told by reception staff that she’d gone home.

Frustrated, he stormed to the lifts and up to his suite. He’d see her again, but her sudden disappearance frustrated him more than it should.