After All - Part Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Dylan sighed at the sight of his apartment block in front of him. He’d spent an hour on a delayed tube service, which annoyed him, since being back in London he’d been using a driver, for some reason this week he’d stopped, and he’d been stuck on a damned tube train when he had things to do. His phone didn’t even work when he was that far underground. It seemed all the worse because the entire time his mind was active, worrying, about everything.

As he emerged from the last station he’d managed to get through to his mother, to tell her he was going to be very late if she still wanted to meet him for dinner. He was hoping to put her off, but she wasn’t ready to give up on him, which meant that she REALLY needed to talk to him, so with a sigh, he had agreed to call her once he was home and sorted. He was still hoping to put her off if he could.

               

With relief he swiped his key card into the automated entry for the reception to his apartment block, but a voice silenced him.

                “So were you ever going to let me in on your secret? Or were you expecting me to hear third hand tomorrow?”

There was such venom in the voice, and that was only matched by her eyes when he turned to see Matilda stood behind him, hands on hips. He wanted to smile, because it was good to see her, but she was anything but happy to see him.

When he didn’t respond immediately, she snapped, “YOU buying the hotel, THAT’S what we’re talking about, in case there was some confusion. I had to hear that from Paul, as he called to apologise and congratulate me on the new owner....YOU! How could you keep this from me? How could you lie?”

                “I wanted to tell you,” he sighed, she was getting more and more angry. “But I missed you. I didn’t know you had a meeting.”

She tossed her head back in contempt, “really? So what? This was a sudden unexpected spur of the moment thing? Is that what you’re telling me?”

He shook his head, “Ok. I admit that I knew what was happening when I spoke to you this morning. But I needed to sort things, before I told you.”

It was a weak defence to his own ears and he grimaced as she stepped towards him.

                “You KNEW that I’d be angry, that I’d make a scene, maybe speak to Paul. If he knew...”

Dylan held up a hand to silence her, and was quite frankly amazed that it worked, “I am not the villain here.”

She scoffed at that, “oh yes, stalking your ex-wife, making her life a misery is all in the name of the greater good. Bloody hell Dylan, you are some sort of control freak; you want to direct my life, influence all that I do. Is that it?”

He shook his head, she had it all wrong, “you think that I’m about to spend all that money just to get one over on you? You’re more paranoid and crazy than I thought!”

 At that moment Dylan’s neighbour appeared trying to get into the building and they both had to side step.

                “Look I’m not doing this in the street...come up and we can talk there.”

She shook her head, “that won’t do my paranoia or craziness any good.”

He groaned, “upstairs or the pub across the road? I’m sure you, like me have no desire to scream and shout in the street like a washer woman.”

Matilda scowled, “you throw insults at me as you try to control even this situation. You are a bastard Dylan Wallace.”

                “May as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,” he groaned in frustration grabbing her elbow and dragging her in off the street.

She fought, physically, as he bundled her into the lift, then pressed the button to take them to the top floor. “Will you stop kicking me?”

She laughed haughtily, “you are kidnapping me. Taking me against my will. I could call the police!”

That made him laugh heartily, “really? For god’s sake Matilda. I want a chance to explain what happened, but you aren’t interested. As usual, you want to believe the worst of me, want the world to hate me. Well this time I’m not that man, ok?”

The lift door opening stopped her retort, and then she looked around in wonder as he led her through a door to his loft apartment. From the doorway the opposite wall was entirely made of glass, floor to ceiling and through it a balcony offered an unrivalled view of the unique and instantly recognisable London skyline. It was decorated in a minimalist way, Dylan had always known it lacked a woman’s touch, but other than his mother and his PA on very rare occasions, he didn’t spend much time with women. Not that he hadn’t had his fair share of dates over the years. But he had been in no rush to open himself to the wiles of a woman again.  He tried to imagine how the place looked to Matilda, and imagined it was sterile and rather bland.

As he turned to her to gauge her response to his home, she launched at him, “who the bloody hell do you think you are?”

He sighed; the moment of silence had been as fleeting as his optimism that things were looking up, “right. Paint me as the devil incarnate. If that makes you happy then I suggest you carry on. I brought you up here because I thought, for the sake of our business relationship that we need to get on.”

Her laugh was once again haughty, knowing, “and WHY is that? Because YOU snuck around making this deal behind my back. You came into my life for a few weeks, that what you said. Now I find out I have to tolerate you for months? Maybe years.” She lifted a hand to her head in exasperation, “I can’t deal with this, with you EVERY day.”

                “What so we can’t be grown up about this?”

He watched as Matilda sighed then walked up to the huge windows, she was quiet as a moment as she looked out onto the sunny evening. “You want me to grow up? Is that all this takes?” Turning to face him again, she rested back against the glass, “I have taken years to recover from the hell you caused me, within a couple of weeks of being back in my life you have pulled this stunt. I never wanted to see you again; I don’t want to work with you. I want my own space and life back.”

                “What do you think I’m going to do?”

That was greeted with laughter, “your current track record dictates! You’ve have forced me up here, practically kidnapping. As per usual you run roughshod over everything that stands in your way, and now, you’re about to take over as my boss, so I’ll be at your beck and call all over again.”

He crossed the room to the large fridge that stood there and pulled open the door, “you want a beer?” He asked as he pulled one out, she gave her head a curt shake and waited as he opened the bottle. “I never intended to get involved with the hotel, you have to believe that, since I left London I’ve developed a really busy and thriving business in the US, I didn’t intend to do more than visit London. This is my holiday home.”

                “So what went wrong?” She snapped aggressively.

He sighed, “you think I’m that pedantic, that childish that I’d deliberately wind you up? Apparently I only ever put myself first! This is the furthest thing from my plans at the moment. This was never on my radar. Stylar...have you done any research? Before you shout and call me every name under the sun, I suggest that you check out the alternative to me, their company profile...and more importantly the comments in this article.” He tossed a business card on to the table beside her, a hand written web address scrawled on the back. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a rather pressing and much anticipated date with my mother, and I really don’t need this hassle before an hour of torture at the Ritz.”

He walked to the front door and held it open, she hadn’t moved, and when he looked up she was staring at him for a moment.

                “What you thought I’d beat you or chain you to my bed? Bloody hell Matilda you once married me, why would you think me such an animal?”

She lifted her head and he could tell it was a defensive gesture as she moved slowly to the door, “nothing I can find out can EVER make up for you interfering in my life like this. Yes I DID marry you Dylan and most days I fear it was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

The pain from that comment was like a knife as he watched her walk away like an ice maiden.

Mattie couldn’t relax, not really. There was something that Dylan said that haunted her. He was right on several counts, he wasn’t a malicious or nasty man, their marriage broke down because of their differences, because they wanted different things, not because he was horrible. He was selfish in that his needs always took priority, but he had never been horrible to her, not really, not in a deliberate way. If she could have tolerated the risks that he loved so much, if her mother hadn’t been ill then she might have still been married to him, but she was safe, secure and lived by the book.

And he didn’t lie. He’d never lied about the crazy schemes he’d thrown himself after, and he’d never lied about how much money he wasn’t earning.

That left her with a huge streak of guilt and intrigue. She had to check out the Stylar group. It was forty minutes later when she got home, and with relief she kicked off her heels and had a shower. She hadn’t brought her laptop home, and her phone reception was poor in the flat. So Mattie knew there was only one thing she could do. Changed into jeans and a t-shirt she padded across the hallway to Andy’s flat. He was on his way out to work, literally.

                “Of course you can you use my computer...just lock up behind you, yeah?”

He gave her a quick hug and a peck on the forehead, before leaving.

Half an hour later Mattie sat back in the leather chair and sighed, “what the hell have I done?” She asked to no one in particular.

Screwed up again! That was what she’d done. Mattie sighed, then logged off the computer. She didn’t need to know any more. There was enough on the three screens she’d just viewed to tell her that she’d got Dylan all wrong. Stylar looked outwardly like a productive and successful company. But the website he’d directed her to contained a report for the FT into their practices. Dylan was mentioned in the article as one of his companies had been bought and been the victim of the treatment of these sharks. They would ruin the hotel if they bought it, but they hadn’t, because Dylan had. She had called Paul on seeing that harsh reality and he openly admitted that he had been approached by Stylar, and that he was about to accept that deal when Dylan stepped in.

This time he’d done the right thing. And now she felt like hell.

This man, she cursed as she eased her feet back into a pair of heels, her toes screamed at the torture, but she could hardly turn up at the Ritz in jeans and trainers. And she did have to go to the Ritz, firstly to offer an apology to Dylan; she’d never sleep without that. And secondly to pacify his mother. She knew how aggressive and hostile she could be to her son. Mattie had witnessed it so many times, and until they split, no one knew how to manage his mother like she did. They had a love hate relationship of the most volatile she’d ever seen. His mother was an angry woman who spent her life looking for better than she already had - husband, home, clothes...and son. How the hell she ever had a child Matilda could never understand, but he was definitely the biggest regret of the glamorous woman. Marrying Matilda had been his greatest move in her eyes. Finally his mother anticipated being free of the burden of a child...not that he ever asked her for anything. No, Maggie - Fredricks was her newest name if a recent OK magazine was anything to go by was responsible for every bad or rather misplaced bone in her son, but she was too busy upgrading her life to care. Her sixth husband was an ex MP, maybe he’d have more luck than the five who’d gone before him.

Reappearing in Dylan’s life could cause him chaos, but since she’d stopped being so angry at him she wanted to do the right thing by him, she owed him that, and what better way to apologise than to diffuse his familial problems.

She grimaced as she checked out her reflection, not at the dress and shoes, they looked ok, but it was the thought of how Dylan would react to her appearing. He could be grateful...but on the other hand he was just as likely to be mad, because meeting his mother again could stir up a whole host of emotions.

Giving a decisive nod, she marched out, he’d walked straight back into her life, why shouldn’t she do the same.and make herself feel better to boot? Karma Dylan Wallace. This was karma.