A Proposal Worth Millions

The room itself was a good size, but Dylan figured this was probably the biggest the hotel had, so he’d have to explore some of the smaller, ordinary rooms before making a judgement on room size. Wandering through to the bathroom, he clocked fluffy towels, good tiling and lighting, and a shower he very much looked forward to trying out later. If that shower head was as effective as it looked, and the water pressure as good as Dylan hoped, his aching muscles would appreciate the pummelling before bed.

Back in the main room, Dylan ran his fingers across the small table and chairs by the window in the bedroom then strolled into the lounge area through the open arch of a doorway. Again, the size was good, the sofas looked comfy enough, and the coffee table was stacked with magazines and brochures detailing things to do in the area. He flicked through them quickly before deciding the mini-bar and desk were far more interesting.

Crouching down, he yanked open the fridge door and nodded his approval. A decently stocked mini-bar—even if he never used it—was a must in Dylan’s book. Then he dropped into the swivel chair by the desk, tugged his phone from his pocket and checked for the complementary WiFi the girl at the desk had assured him was part of his room package. To his amazement, it worked first time and with minimal fuss over the password.

He smiled to himself. He shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, this was Adem’s place, for all that Sadie was running it now. And Adem had always been vocal about the individual’s right to easy-access WiFi at all times and in all places. Something else he and Dylan had always agreed on.

Twirling around in his chair, Dylan split his attention between checking his mail again and surveying the room as a whole—and spotted something he hadn’t noticed before. Getting to his feet, he crossed the room, pulled aside the curtains and stepped out onto the suite’s small balcony.

Now this was worth travelling all those miles for. Breathing in deeply, Dylan savoured the warm sun on his face and forearms, and stared out. He could see now why Adem had been so evangelical about the place, right from the start, quite apart from his family connection to the hotel.

The view was magnificent. Down below, the Aegean Sea lapped against the rocks, bright and blue and entrancing, sending up puffs of white spray with every wave. Above the rocks, scrubby bushes and juniper trees twisted up towards the clear azure sky, all the way up the peak where the hotel sat. Overhead, a bird called out as it passed, and Dylan thought for the first time all year, since he spent the holidays with his sister and her family, that he might actually be able to just switch off and enjoy the moment.

Except he still had to deal with Sadie—and find out how bad things at the Azure really were for Neal to have sent him here when she so obviously didn’t want his help.

Eventually, he figured enough time had passed that even Sadie would have finished yelling at the hapless accountant and, leaving the sunny warmth of the balcony behind him, Dylan headed back inside to sit at the desk and call Neal.

After just a couple of rings Neal answered the phone with a sigh.

‘You can’t possibly be surprised by this call,’ Dylan pointed out.

‘I know, I know.’ Neal sounded stressed, in a way Dylan wasn’t used to hearing from his old friend. That alone put his nerves on high alert. ‘Trust me, I’ve already heard it all from her.’

Her. Sadie. The memory of her expression, the shock and horror that had flashed across her face at the first sight of him, rankled all over again.

‘I bet you have,’ Dylan said. ‘So? Is she going to kick me out on my ear or let me help?’ It wasn’t what he’d expected to ask—he’d expected there to be a lot more yelling first, apart from anything else. But now he had Neal on the phone it seemed like the only thing that really mattered.

‘She’ll let you help.’

‘Because she’s desperate.’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Great.’ Dylan put as much sarcasm as he could muster into the word. ‘I just love being a last resort.’

Neal let out another, world-weary sigh. ‘You know Sadie, Dyl. She’s proud. And she thinks it’s her responsibility to fulfil Adem’s dreams all on her own.’

‘She let you help.’ Which, Dylan had to admit, still irked him a bit.

‘Yeah, but I’m less smug than you.’

Smug? ‘I’m not—’

‘Yes. Yes, you are. And you need not to be this week, okay?’ Neal wasn’t joking any more, Dylan could tell. And that worried him more than anything else that had happened that day.

But, to be honest, being too smug and alienating Sadie wasn’t really what Dylan was concerned about. He was far more worried about being obvious than smug. Worried that Sadie still thought she knew more about his feelings than she could reasonably expect to after so many years—and might refuse to let him help because of it.

‘Things are that bad here?’ he asked.

Neal huffed impatiently, a far more familiar sound than his concern. ‘Didn’t you read the info I sent over?’

‘Of course I did.’ Well, he’d scanned through it on the plane, which was practically the same thing. It wasn’t that Dylan wasn’t interested in the stats for the Azure Hotel, it was just that he had a lot of other projects on his plate, plus new opportunities coming in. Besides...he hadn’t really been able to imagine any of it until he was actually here.

‘She needs more than your money, Dyl. She needs your business brain.’

And, okay, yes, it was bad timing, but it wasn’t really his fault that his brain’s automatic response to a comment like that was a feeling of smug pride, right? ‘Doesn’t everyone?’

‘Okay, that? That’s exactly what I don’t want you to do this week.’

The puff of pride disintegrated as fast as it had appeared. ‘Fine. So I’m here in a business advisor capacity only?’

‘No, she needs your money, too,’ Neal said. ‘She’s insanely committed to Adem’s dream of making the Azure a successful hotel. Doesn’t matter that he’s not there to see it—she’s going to make it happen anyway.’

Only Sadie. Other people walked out on commitments every day—families, marriages, financial and business obligations—and never looked back. Only Sadie would remain committed to a dead man’s schemes. And only because she had loved Adem so much.

Dylan sighed. ‘That’s not going to be easy.’ He knew that much from the information Neal had sent him—and the fact Sadie had agreed to let him help at all. If she’d thought she could do it herself, she would have. Sadie was nothing if not bloody-minded and determined.

‘Probably not,’ Neal allowed. ‘But it might save Adem’s dream. And Sadie.’

And so, of course, he would do it, without question. He just hoped no one ever pressed him to say exactly which of those motivations was strongest for him.

‘I’m having dinner with her tonight.’ He tugged a sheet of writing paper branded with the Azure logo closer to him and grabbed a pen. ‘Where do I start?’

‘She needs this to be business,’ Neal said. ‘Not a pity save, even if that’s what it is.’

It was more than that, Dylan knew. This wasn’t just pity. He couldn’t bear to see Sadie struggling, so he’d do whatever it took to save her. He suspected that Neal knew that too.

‘So how do I convince her it’s not?’

‘By letting her pitch the Azure and Kuşadasi to you as a real investment opportunity. As something you’d want to put money into even if she wasn’t involved. Let her present her proposal for the place, then decide if you will invest.’

Suddenly, a plan began to form, right at the back of Dylan’s brain, where he always got his most inspired ideas.

‘I can do that,’ he said, and smiled.

* * *

Standing in front of her wardrobe, Sadie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, squinted, then sighed and gave up. Nothing she could do right now changed the clothes hanging there for her to choose from. If Neal had told her Dylan was coming, she’d have had time to go shopping. Not that she would have done. The last thing she wanted to do was give Dylan Jacobs the impression that his presence was new-clothes-worthy.

Either way, her options now were limited.

She flicked through the hangers again, dismissing each outfit in turn. Black suit? Too conservative for dinner with someone who was, business opportunities aside, an old friend. Navy shift dress? Might have worked, if it didn’t have hummus smeared down the front of it, courtesy of Finn. She tossed it in the laundry hamper. Grey shift dress? She supposed it could work. The neckline was demure, the fit okay... It was just boring and made her look even greyer than she felt.

Hadn’t she once had more interesting clothes? The sort with colour and pop and stuff? She was sure that once upon a time she’d dressed to fit her happy and in-love mood. Maybe that was the problem. When Adem had died he’d taken all her colour and brightness with him—and it even showed in her wardrobe.

Trapping her lower lip between her teeth, Sadie reached right to the back of the closet and felt slippery satin slide through her fingers as she tugged one more dress to the front. The dress. The bright red, sexy dress her sister had talked her into buying on their last shopping trip to London before she and Adem had left for Turkey. She’d never yet found the courage to wear it, for all of Rachel’s suggestions that it would be the perfect dress to wear if she wanted to convince Adem they should give Finn a little brother or sister.

She let it fall from her grasp. Definitely not the right dress for tonight.

Instead, she pulled out her standard black function dress—the one she’d worn for every single event since she’d arrived in Kuşadasi, and the dress she’d known she’d end up wearing all along, if she was honest with herself. It was well cut, didn’t reveal too much, looked more dressy than a work dress, but still had the aura of business about it.

Sadie sank to sit on her bed, her hands clutching at the fabric of the dress. Business. She had to focus on that. This was her last and only chance—she couldn’t afford to think of Dylan as Adem’s twenty-two-year-old university buddy, or the best man who’d brought Adem home from his stag night with an almighty hangover, a blow-up sheep and no recollection of where they’d spent the last two days. Dylan wasn’t that person any more.

She swallowed, blinking away sudden tears of guilt and loss at the memory of her husband. Because that was the problem. She wasn’t thinking of that Dylan at all. Instead, she couldn’t help remembering another one, sitting up too late in a bar after someone else’s wedding, talking too much and too deeply.

Despite herself, she couldn’t help remembering the man who had once asked her if she’d ever imagined what might have happened if he’d met her first, instead of Adem.

Rushing to her feet, too fast, Sadie shook off the memory with the resulting light-headedness. She loved her husband—now, then and always. And she planned to preserve his memory for their son by saving the hotel. Business, that’s all any of it was for her now. And she was sure that was all it was for Dylan too.

She knew business now, and she needed to show Dylan that—needed him to see that she wasn’t the same girl she had been then either. She’d grown up, learned and changed. She could save the Azure all by herself—she just needed his money.

Nodding to herself, Sadie pulled on her black dress and added her work jacket and heels. A business-casual compromise, she decided. It was perfect.

* * *

Heading down to the bar, Sadie was pleased to realise she’d beaten Dylan there, despite her clothing dilemma delay. After a moment’s thought she ordered them both a glass of a local white wine—showcasing the specialties of the region had to be a good way to convince Dylan that Kuşadasi was worth his time and interest. Following her theme, she also asked the bartender to check in with the chef on the menu. He returned in short order, carrying both wine and a daily menu. Sadie scanned it quickly and told him to instruct the chef to serve them both the best local food on offer, once they made it through to the restaurant.

She settled back onto her bar stool and took a sip of her wine, feeling in control for the first time that day. Dylan may have caught her off balance when he’d arrived, but it took more than that to rattle Sadie Sullivan. She had everything in hand now—and it was the upper one.

Then he appeared in the doorway, looking far too good in his navy suit and open-collared shirt, and she struggled to swallow her wine without spluttering. Dylan, Sadie was sure, hadn’t bothered agonising over what to wear at all. He’d just thrown on what he liked and looked...perfect in it.

It was strange; she didn’t remember him being quite so attractive. Oh, he’d always been good looking, but it had been in a single-guy-about-town, flirt-with-the-girls-and-take-them-home way. Whereas Adem had always been more steady, less striking—but so gorgeous when he’d smiled at her. It had felt like he’d saved all his best looks just for her, and she’d loved that.

But now Dylan looked more grown up, more reliable, like he’d grown into his looks and out of his bad habits. Sadie shook her head lightly—it was an illusion. She knew from Neal’s more recent stories that Dylan was just as much of a playboy as ever.

‘You look beautiful.’ Reaching her stool, Dylan bent to kiss her cheek, and Sadie ignored the thrill it sent down her spine.

‘And you’re just as much of a flirt as ever,’ she chastised him, earning the reward of a positively rakish grin that made it hard not to laugh. ‘Have a seat,’ she said, waving at the stool next to her. ‘Drink wine.’

He did as he was told for once, fishing his smartphone from his pocket and placing it on the bar before he reached for his glass.

‘This is good,’ Dylan said, after the first mouthful. ‘Local?’

She nodded. ‘Everything you’re going to taste tonight is from the area. Just another host of reasons why you want to be investing in Kuşadasi and the Azure.’

‘Down to business so soon?’ His smile was a little lopsided this time, like he knew something she didn’t, but since he was already swiping a finger across his phone screen to check his emails Sadie didn’t think he should complain about talking business in a bar.

‘Isn’t that what you’re here for?’ Best to be blunt, she decided. History aside, this was a business dinner—for both of them.

‘Of course.’ Dylan leant against the wooden back of the bar stool, his arms folded behind his head. ‘Go on, then. I’m ready to be convinced.’

‘About the food?’ Sadie asked, suddenly thrown off balance. Surely he didn’t expect her to convince him to invest a ridiculous amount of money based purely on one sip of wine and the promise of dinner?

‘About this hotel. You’re right, this is a business trip. As much as I’d personally be happy to hand over whatever money you need, I have shareholders and board members who might not be so keen. So I need you to convince me that the Azure is a sound investment before I can agree to come on board.’ His tone was perfectly matter-of-fact, even as he admitted he’d give her a pity save if he could. A very small part of Sadie wished it was that easy.

But no. This was exactly what she’d wanted—no pity save, no charity for the poor widow. Business.

She just hadn’t expected him to agree so fast—or for it to be a requirement for him too.

But she could do this. She could show him. She had a plan—Adem’s plan for the Azure—and she intended to follow it to the letter. All she needed to do was convince Dylan it was a good plan.

‘Right, then,’ she said, briskly. ‘Where do you want to start?’

CHAPTER THREE

THE MOMENT THEY were settled at their table—obviously the best seat in the house—Sadie launched into what had to be a rehearsed sales pitch. Dylan tried to pay attention as she listed the details of room numbers and styles, amenities and so on, but in truth very little of it went in. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her—and apparently he’d lost the ability to stare and listen at the same time.

Sadie was beautiful as ever, he’d known that since he arrived at the Azure. Before, even. Sadie was Sadie, and her beauty was an intrinsic part of her—and had very little to do with what she actually looked like at all. But now, soaking her in over the candlelit table, he had a chance to catalogue the changes. She was more fragile now, he decided, more closed off. Somehow more off limits than she’d ever been, even after she’d married Adem. Now she was The Widow, and he couldn’t seem to help but let those two words—and the tragedy they encompassed—define her in his mind.

Her spark seemed dimmed, and it hurt him to see it. Maybe this week could be useful in more than one way. He’d help her with her hotel, of course. But how could he not try to bring that spark back too? To make sure she was really okay here, alone with a crumbling hotel, a small boy and her memories.

Just as a friend. Obviously. Because there was no way she’d let him close enough for anything else now, if she never had before. Besides, given the position she was in, he wouldn’t risk it. Not if it would just make things worse for her. All he had to offer was the money she needed and business support maybe. Then he would be on his way. He wasn’t Adem and he never had been.

Dylan knew himself too well—at least as well as Neal, Adem and Sadie always had. He was too like his father to ever settle to one life, one set of possibilities—not when the next big thing could be just past the horizon. So this was temporary, and that was fine with him.

It just meant he only had one week to find the promise in the Azure Hotel and come up with a plan to make it good. He needed to get started on that, pronto. Priorities, Dylan.

Their starters arrived without him ever seeing a menu, but as he examined the seafood platter he decided he didn’t mind at all. If all else failed, at least he could honestly say the food and drink at the Azure were good. It was a start.

‘Did Adem make you memorise all that?’ he asked, as Sadie reached the end of her spiel and reached for a calamari ring.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Well, just some of it.’

‘But it’s all his plan, right?’ He’d known Adem since they’d been eighteen. He’d recognised his friend’s touch before Sadie had reached the second bullet point.

‘How can you possibly...? We worked on it together. Of course.’

‘Of course. But this was his dream.’ He followed her lead with the calamari, hoping it tasted as good as it looked. One piece of rubbery calamari could ruin a whole meal. But, no, it had the perfect mixture of crunch in the batter and melting seafood. He reached for another.

‘His heritage.’ She shrugged, her shoulders slim and delicate now she’d taken her jacket off, and more tanned than he remembered. ‘He wanted a future here for our family.’

Family. Stop thinking about her shoulders, Jacobs, and focus on what really matters to her. ‘Where is Finn, anyway?’

A shadow crossed her face, and he almost regretted asking. ‘He’s staying with my parents for the week. I’m flying over to England to collect him after you leave.’

‘Because I was going to be here?’ That stung. He may not have seen much of the boy since he’d been born, but that didn’t make him any less of an honorary uncle.

Sadie gave him a look—the sort she used to give him in the pub when they’d been twenty-two and he’d been acting like an idiot. ‘To be honest, I didn’t know you were the one coming, which I think you must have guessed. Besides, that wasn’t it. He’s due to start school next year, and my parents wanted to spend some time with him outside the holidays before then.’

There was something else, hiding behind the lightness of her tone, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, and it was still too early to press too hard for information—frustrating as that was. He had to have patience. Eventually she’d open up to him again.

A waiter cleared their starter platters, even as another brought their main course—some sort of delicious, spicy, lamb stew thing that Dylan vowed to find out the name of before he left. But right then he had bigger priorities than his stomach.

‘Okay, so, I’ve heard all the grand plans,’ he said between mouthfuls. ‘How far have you actually got with them?’

Sadie put down her fork and ticked the items off on her fingers as she spoke. ‘The lobby, restaurant and bar are finished, as you’ve seen. So is the spa. Of the bedrooms, the top floor with the penthouse suite—your suite—and the other family suites is done, and the first floor of luxury doubles.’

‘So that leaves you, what?’ He tried to recall the floor numbers from the lift. ‘Another four floors to go? Plus any other reception and function rooms?’

She nodded. ‘We had a timescale planned but...’

‘The money ran out.’ Not a surprise. He’d seen it often enough, even in projects less plagued by tragedy and uncertainty.

‘Yes. So we opened anyway, to try and get enough funds to keep going. But at least one of the floors is uninhabitable as it stands, so occupancy is never very high.’

‘What about the outside space?’ That had to be a selling point in a climate like this.

‘The outside pool needs retiling and the path down to the beach needs some work. Fortunately the inside pool is attached to the spa, so got done in the first wave, before...’ She trailed off, and he knew exactly what she wasn’t saying. Some days, he thought that if he didn’t say it, it might not be true, too.

‘There’s a lot left to do,’ he finished for her, cutting short the moment.

‘That’s why we need your money.’

His fork hit china and he looked down to see he’d eaten the whole bowl without tasting anything beyond that first delicious mouthful. What a waste. He put his cutlery down. ‘Dinner would be worth investing in alone. That was truly delicious.’

She blushed, just a little. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it. Somehow I suspect one meal isn’t quite enough to win over your shareholders, though.’

‘Maybe not. Okay, listen. I’m going to tell you a bit about my company, and you can decide if you want us involved. If you do...then we can discuss what else I need to see and do, what questions I need answered, before I can take a proposal to the board.’ She’d been straight with him, as far as he could tell. Time for him to do the same.

‘Okay.’ Eyes wide, her nerves were back, he realised, pleased to still be able to read her so well.

‘My company isn’t generally interested in long-term investment. Mostly what we do is take on a failing business, tear it down or build it up until it’s successful, then sell it on.’

‘In that case, I’d think the Azure would be perfect. We have “failing business” written all over us.’ She reached for her wine—a local red, he assumed—and took a gulp.

‘The key is, the business has to have the potential to be a huge success,’ he clarified. ‘In the right hands.’

‘Yours, you mean.’ She sounded more sceptical than Dylan felt was truly necessary.

‘Or whoever we put in charge. In this case...we’d need to be sure that you could turn this place around on your own, with just money and guidance from us.’ Make it clear upfront that he wouldn’t be staying around—not that he imagined she wanted him to.

‘I see.’ This time her tone gave nothing away at all, and he found himself talking just to fill the silence that followed.

‘Unless, of course, you’re in favour of taking a bulldozer to the place, putting someone else in charge of the rebuild and taking a back seat until the money starts rolling in?’ He knew she wouldn’t say yes, but part of him couldn’t help but hope she would. It would be the easy way out—but since when had Sadie ever taken that?

She shook her head. ‘Sorry. This is personal for me. I made a commitment to make this hotel a success. For Adem.’

‘I guessed you’d say that. Don’t suppose you’d consider changing the name either?’