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 Kusadasi 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.
r /> ‘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 Kusadasi, 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.