A Proposal Worth Millions
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Sophie Pembroke
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17,1K
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Chapter One
SADIE SULLIVAN BLINKED into the sunshine and waved goodbye to the rental car pulling away from the Azure Hotel. If she squinted, she could just make out Finn’s tiny face pressed up against the rear window, and his little hand waving back. Her father, in the driver’s seat, was obviously concentrating on the road, but Sadie spotted the glint of her mother’s ash-blonde hair beside Finn, and knew she’d be holding him in place, making sure his seat belt was secure.
He was in good hands. She had to remember that. Even if her heart ached at the thought of being separated from her little boy.
The car turned the last corner at the end of the drive and disappeared out of sight, behind the row of juniper trees, onto the road that led up the coast then back inland towards the main roads and Izmir airport. Sadie sucked in a deep breath and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, quickly, in case anyone was watching. The last thing she needed right now was talk about the boss breaking down in tears. Professionalism, that was the key.
‘It’s one week, Sullivan,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Get over yourself. In seven days you’ll be in England with him, getting ready to bring him back. Enjoy the peace until then.’
Except next time it might be for longer. A whole term, even. And what if he didn’t want to come home to her in the holidays? No, she wasn’t thinking about that. Whatever her father said about British schools, about having family around, Finn’s place was with her. The local schools were great, and Finn’s Turkish was really coming along. He’d be fine.
She swallowed, and stepped back into the coolness of the Azure lobby. Even in late September Kuşadasi still enjoyed the warmth of the Turkish climate. In a few weeks, she knew, the locals would start pulling on sweaters and mumbling about the chill in the air—while she, and the few remaining tourists in town at the end of the season, would still be down at the beach, enjoying the sun.
This time next year Finn would have started school. The only question left to answer definitively was, where?
‘Did Finn and your parents leave for the airport okay?’ Esma asked, looking up from the reception desk, her long red nails still resting on her keyboard.
Sadie nodded, not trusting herself to speak just yet.
‘He’s so excited about having a holiday with his grandparents,’ Sadie’s second in command carried on, regardless. ‘And the timing is just perfect, too.’
Sadie kept nodding. Then she blinked. ‘It is?’
Esma tilted her head to study her, and Sadie tried to pull herself into her best boss posture and expression. She had the suit, the hair, the make-up—all the things she usually hid behind when she didn’t quite know what to do. That armour had got her through her husband’s death, through taking on his ridiculously ambitious business project that she didn’t have the first clue about. Why on earth would it fail her now, at the prospect of a mere week without her son?
It obviously worked, because Esma shrugged and pushed the work diary across the reception desk towards her.
‘I just meant with that potential investor arriving this week. Without Finn to worry about, you will have more time to spend winning him over, yes?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Sadie responded automatically, her eyes fixed on the red letters spelling ‘Investor Visit’ written across the next five days. How could she have forgotten?
Her priority for the week. The only thing she had time to worry about, at all, was this investor and all his lovely money.
She hadn’t wanted to resort to outside help, but things were getting beyond desperate, even if only she and Neal knew the true extent of the Azure’s problems. When their hunt for local investors had failed, Neal had suggested seeking investment from abroad—with similar results. But he’d had a last-chance possibility at the ready when she’d asked where on earth they went next. A business acquaintance, he’d said, who had interests in the hotel industry, and might just be interested enough to send an employee over to check out the Azure.
Sadie had been doubtful, but she was also running out of options. She trusted Neal—he was more than her accountant, he had been one of her late husband Adem’s best friends. And she had no doubt that Neal would have asked his acquaintance to go easy on her. Everyone always did.
She’s a widow. They always shook their head sadly as they said the word ‘widow’. Lost her husband in a car crash, tragically young.
These days, that was often the only thing people knew about her at all. Well, that and the fact that she was saddled with a white elephant of a hotel renovation that might never be finished at the rate things were going.
Sadie was almost sure there used to be more to know about her once.
Behind the reception desk Esma’s eyes were wide and worried, so Sadie reinforced her ‘in control of everything’ smile. She had to shake off the negativity. She loved the Azure, just like Adem had, and just like Finn did. It was her home, and she would make it a success—one way or another.
She’d made promises. Commitments. And she had every intention of fulfilling them.
She just might have to accept a little help along the way.
‘Did Neal call with the name of the guy the company is sending over yet?’ Sadie asked. ‘And we have a car collecting him from the airport, correct?’
‘Yes, at four o’clock,’ Esma confirmed. ‘I sent Alim.’
‘Good.’ Alim was reliable, and his English was great—far better than her Turkish, even after four years of living in the country and working hard to learn. Finn was a much quicker study than her, it turned out.
And just like that, she’d forgotten all her business worries again and was back to fretting about her son. Part of being a mother, she supposed.
She checked her watch. It was already gone five.
‘Has Alim texted to say they’re on their way?’ Sadie asked.
‘Almost an hour ago. They should be here any moment.’ Esma bit her lip. ‘It will all be fine, Sadie,’ she added after a moment. But it sounded more like a question than reassurance.
Sadie smiled broadly. ‘Of course it will! I’m certain of it,’ she lied. Then something occurred to her. Esma had only answered half her question. ‘And the name?’ she pressed. ‘Neal gave it to you, yes?’ How embarrassing would it be to greet this guy with no idea what to call him?
Behind the desk, Esma squirmed, shuffling an irrelevant stack of papers between her hands, her gaze fixed firmly on her nails. Something heavy settled in Sadie’s stomach at the sight. Something heavier even than her guilt about Finn being away all week. Something more like the magnitude of the fears and nightmares that kept her awake at night, wondering how on earth she would achieve everything she’d promised her husband and son.
‘Esma? What’s his name?’
Her face pale, Esma finally looked up to meet Sadie’s gaze. ‘Neal said it might be better if you...’ She trailed off.
‘If I what?’ Sadie asked. ‘Didn’t know the name of the person who might hold the future of this place in his hands? Why on earth would he—? Unless...’
Behind her, she heard the swoosh of the automatic doors and the clunk of a heavy suitcase on the marble floors. Her heart beat in double time, and that heavy feeling spread up through her chest, constricting her breathing and threatening her poor, laboured heart.
Sadie turned, and suddenly it was thirteen years ago. She could almost sense Adem beside her—younger, more nervous, but alive—hopping from foot to foot as he introduced his new girlfriend to his two best friends. Neal Stephens and Dylan Jacobs.
Except Adem was dead, Neal was in England—where she couldn’t yell at him yet—and only Dylan stood in the lobby of her hotel. Dylan, who was supposed to be thousands of miles away in Australia, where he belonged. Instead, he was at the Azure, as self-assured and cocky as ever. And every inch as handsome.
No wonder Neal hadn’t told her. She’d have been on the first flight out with Finn, and he knew it. He might not know everything, but Neal had to at least have noticed that she’d made a concerted effort not to see Dylan since the funeral.
But now she couldn’t run. She had commitments to keep—and she needed Dylan Jacobs of all people to help her do that.
Sadie plastered on a smile, stepped forward, and held out a hand that only shook a bit.
‘Dylan! How wonderful to see you again,’ she said, and prayed it didn’t sound like the lie it was.
* * *
Dylan’s chest tightened automatically at the sight of her. An hour’s drive from the airport and hours on the plane before that, and he still wasn’t ready. In fact, as he stepped forward to take Sadie’s hand he realised he might never be ready. Not for this.
Five minutes ago he’d been moments away from calling the whole visit off. Sitting in the car, as they’d come up the long, winding hotel driveway, he’d almost told the driver to turn around and take him back to the airport. That the whole trip was a mistake.
But Dylan Jacobs never shied away from an opportunity. And, besides, it was Sadie. So instead he’d checked his phone again—emails first, then messages, then voicemails then other alerts—his habitual order. Anything to distract him from thinking about Sadie.
He hadn’t seen her in two years. Two long years since the funeral. Hadn’t even heard a peep from her—let alone a response to his card, telling her to call, if she ever needed anything.
And now, apparently, she needed everything and she was calling in that promise.
He just wished she’d done it in person, instead of via Neal. Wished he could have spoken to her, heard her voice, sensed her mood.
Wished he had a better idea what he was walking into here.
She’s coping, Neal had said. Better than a lot of people would. But...she lost Adem, Dyl. Of course she’s not the same. And she needs you. The Azure is all she has left of her husband, and you can help her save it.
So in a rapid flurry of emails Dylan had been booked on the next plane into Izmir and now there he was. At Adem’s dream hotel. With Adem’s dream woman.
Glancing at the sign above the hotel doors, Dylan had winced at the name. The Azure. Why did it have to be that name? There were a hundred perfectly decent generic hotel names on offer. Why on earth had Adem picked that one?
A half-forgotten memory had flashed through his brain. Adem’s excited phone call, telling him all about his next big project, how he and Sadie were moving to Turkey to save some ramshackle old hotel that had once belonged to his Turkish mother’s grandfather or something. What he remembered most was the sharp sting that had hit his chest at the name—and the utter irrationality of it.
It’s just a name. It doesn’t mean anything, he’d reminded himself.
But symbolism was a bitch, and to Dylan the Azure would always mean loss. The loss of his father, his freedom, so many years ago. Loss of hope. Lost chances and opportunities.
Except maybe, just maybe, this time it could be different. So much had changed... And this was a different hotel, thousands of miles and more than two decades away from the Azure where the man who had raised him had walked out on his entire family and never looked back.
This was Sadie’s hotel now.
He’d never told Adem the whole story of his father, and had certainly never mentioned the name of the hotel. If he had, his friend would probably have changed it, just to make Dylan feel more comfortable. That was the sort of man Adem had been, the good, caring, thoughtful sort.
The sort of man who had deserved the love of a woman like Sadie.
Unbidden, images of the last time he’d seen her had filled Dylan’s vision. Dressed all in black, instead of the bright colours she’d always loved, standing beside that coffin in a cold, rainy, English graveyard. She’d been gripping her tiny son’s hand, he remembered, and he’d known instinctively that if she’d had her way Finn wouldn’t have been there, wouldn’t have had to witness any of it. He’d wondered who had insisted he take part, and how lost Sadie must have been to let them win.
Lost. That was the right word for it. She’d looked small and tired and sad...but most of all she’d looked lost. As if without Adem she’d had no compass any more, no path.
It had broken Dylan’s heart to see her that way. But standing outside her hotel...he had just wondered who she would be now.
And then it was time to find out.
Heart racing, he climbed the steps to the hotel entrance and let the automatic doors sweep back to allow him in. He squinted in the relative cool darkness of the lobby, compared to the bright sunlight outside. But when his vision cleared the first thing he saw was Sadie—standing at the reception desk, her back turned to him so he couldn’t make out her face. But there was never any doubt in his mind that it was her, despite the plain grey suit and shorter hair.
So many memories were buttoned up in that suit—of the friend he’d lost and the woman he’d never even had a chance with—that his chest tightened just at the sight of her.
He braced himself as she turned, but it wasn’t enough. Nowhere near enough to prepare him for the shock and horror that flashed across her familiar face, before she threw up a pleasant, smiling mask to cover it.
She didn’t know I was coming. Oh, he was going to kill Neal. Painfully, and probably slowly.
Reflex carried him through the moment, the old defences leaping back into place as she smiled and held out her hand. Her hand. Like they really were new business acquaintances, instead of old friends.
‘Dylan! How wonderful to see you again,’ she said, still smiling through the obvious lie. And Dylan wished that, for once, he’d ignored the opportunity and headed back to the airport like his gut had told him to.
But it was too late now.
Ignoring the sting of her lie, Dylan took her cool fingers between his own, tugging her closer until he could wrap his other arm around her slim waist, his fingers sliding up from hers to circle her wrist and keep her close. Just the touch of her sent his senses into overdrive, and he swallowed hard before speaking.
‘It’s so good to see you, Sadie.’ And that, at least, was the truth. Dylan could feel his world move back into balance at the sight of her and the feel of her in his arms...well, it just told him what he’d known for years. That the feelings for his best friend’s girl he’d tried so hard to bury had never been hidden all that deep at all.
He really was going to kill Neal for this.
Sadie pulled back, still smiling, apparently unaware of how his world had just shifted alignment again, the same way it had thirteen years ago when Adem had said, ‘Dyl, this is Sadie. She’s...special,’ and Sadie’s cheeks had turned pink as she’d smiled.
A real smile, that had been. Not at all like the one she gave him now.
‘Let’s get you checked in,’ Sadie said, and Dylan nodded.
Even though he knew the most sensible thing to do would be to run, as far and as fast as he could, away from the Azure Hotel.
Maybe his dad had had the right idea after all.
* * *
Sadie’s hands shook as she climbed the stairs to her tiny office—the one that used to be Adem’s—and reached for the door handle. Instinctively, she checked back over her shoulder to make sure Dylan hadn’t followed her. But, no, the stairs were clear and she was alone at last, and able to process what had already been a difficult day.
Hopefully by now Dylan would be happily ensconced in the best suite the Azure had to offer—which was probably still nowhere near the standard he was used to. He hadn’t let her escape without making her promise to meet him for dinner, though. Of course, she’d said yes—she was hardly in a position to say no, now, was she? She just hoped he had no idea how much she’d wanted to.
Stepping into her office, she slumped into her desk chair and reached for the phone, her fingers still trembling. Dialling the familiar number, she let it ring, waiting for Neal to pick up. He’d be there, she was sure, waiting by the phone. After all, he had to know she’d be calling.
‘I’m sorry,’ Neal said, the moment he answered.
‘So you bloody well should be. What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me? Never mind, I think I know.’ Which didn’t make her any happier about the subterfuge. Not one bit.
‘You’d have said no,’ Neal explained anyway. ‘But, Sadie, he really wants to help. And you need him.’
‘I don’t need a pity save.’ Sadie could feel the heat of her anger rising again and let it come. Neal deserved it. ‘I’m not some bank that’s too big to fail. I don’t need Dylan Jacobs to sweep in and—’
‘Yes,’ Neal said, calm but firm. ‘You do. And you know it.’
Yes, she did. But she wished that wasn’t true.
‘Why did it have to be him, though?’ she whined.
‘Who else do we know with millions of pounds, a tendency to jump at random opportunities and a soft spot for your family?’ Neal teased lightly.
‘True.’ Didn’t mean she had to like it, though. Although Neal was right about the jumping-at-opportunities thing. Dylan was the ultimate opportunist—and once he’d jumped it was never long before he was ready to move on to the next big thing. This wasn’t a long-term project for him, Sadie realised. This was Dylan swooping in just long enough to give her a hand, then he’d be moving on. She needed to remember that.
‘Is this really a problem?’ Neal asked. ‘I mean, I knew your pride would be a bit bent out of shape, but you told me you wanted to save the Azure, come hell or high water.’
She had said that. ‘Which is this, exactly?’
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Sadie began to regret the joke. The last thing she needed on top of Dylan Jacobs in her hotel was Neal showing up to find out what was going on.
‘Why does he bother you so much?’ He sounded honestly curious, like he was trying to riddle out the mystery of Sadie and Dylan. The same way Neal always approached everything—like a puzzle to be solved. It was one of the things Sadie liked most about him. He’d taken the problem of her failing hotel and had started looking for answers, rather than pointing out things she’d done wrong. ‘It can’t be that he reminds you of Adem too much or you’d have kicked me to the kerb after the funeral, too. So what is it?’
Sadie sighed. There was just no way to explain this that Neal would ever understand. His riddle would have to go unsolved. ‘I don’t know. We just...we never really managed to see eye to eye. On anything.’
Except for that one night, when they’d seen each other far too clearly. When she’d finally realised the threat that Dylan Jacobs had posed to her carefully ordered and settled life.
The threat of possibility.
‘He’s a good man,’ Neal told her. ‘He really does want to help.’
‘I know.’ That was the worst part. Dylan wasn’t here to cause trouble, or make her life difficult, or unhappy. She knew him well enough to be sure of that. He was there to help, probably out of some misguided sense of obligation to a man who was already two years dead, and the friendship they’d shared. She could respect that. ‘And I need him. I should have called him myself.’ She thought of the sympathy card sitting with a few others in a drawer in her bedroom. The one with a single lily on the front and stark, slashing black handwriting inside.
I’m so sorry, Sadie. Whatever you need, call me. Any time.
D x.
She hadn’t, obviously.
‘So we’re okay?’ Neal asked.
‘Yeah, Neal. We’re fine.’ It was only her own sanity she was worried about. ‘I’ll call you later in the week, let you know how things go.’
‘Okay.’ Neal still sounded uncertain, but he hung up anyway when she said goodbye.
Sadie leant back in her chair, tipping her head to stare at the ceiling. All she needed to do was find a way to work with Dylan until he moved on to the next big thing—and from past experience that wouldn’t take long. Jobs, businesses, women—none of them had ever outlasted his short boredom threshold. Why would the Azure be any different? The only thing Sadie had ever known to be constant in Dylan’s life was his friendship with Adem and Neal. That was all this was about—a feeling of obligation to his friend, and the wife and child he’d left behind. She didn’t need him, she needed his money and his business.
A niggle of guilt wriggled in her middle at the realisation that she was basically using her husband’s best friend for his money, milking his own sense of loss at Adem’s death. But if it was the only way to save the Azure...
She’d convince him that the Azure was worth saving, and he’d stump up the money out of obligation.
Then they could both move on.
