The Billionaire's Affair(14)

Amy laughed. Then she gazed dreamily at Adam. “Baby, remember the bet you made with your brother a few months ago? That he’d find love in London? I wonder if perhaps Dylan is about to be lighter by ten grand.”

Dylan stood up, keen to escape this nonsense. “Bullshit. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a contract to prepare for our Russian friend. Then I’m meeting Joey for lunch.”

“Oh, Dylan,” Amy called over, “I’m organising a last-minute engagement party tonight for anyone who can make it. It’s just at our place. Joseph’s said he’s coming – why don’t you come along?”

Dylan halted in the doorway and threw her a supportive smile. “Sure, Amy, I’d love to.”

She grinned. “Great. And why don’t you bring a date? How about… maybe… Sarah?”





Chapter Six




It was inconceivable to Dylan – as he breezed into the hotel lobby now – that less than twenty-four hours ago he’d arrived here with Natalia, feeling gloomy and out-of-sorts. His gloominess had largely been because he’d known he’d needed to break off their affair, but – truthfully – he’d been plagued by a background radiation of gloominess for years. Ever since Sarah had left him stranded at the desolate departure lounge in fact.

But this morning he was feeling on top of the world – he’d handled Orlov perfectly in the meeting back there, and now he was going to celebrate by reclaiming the woman who’d owned his heart for so long.

The lobby of Sarah’s hotel was spectacular, with its shiny marble floor, works of priceless art, and expensive furnishings. It was like a museum and gallery combined. Dylan was proud of her for attaining the position of General Manager at this luxury establishment so young. She’d clearly worked hard for such success, and this knowledge eased his guilt and sadness about the way things had ended between them after college.

Last night when Dylan had arrived with Natalia, this lobby had been crammed full of people, but it was fairly peaceful at moment – there were a couple of suited women chatting on one of the massive couches under an elaborate tapestry, and a few tourists were waiting with their luggage by an engraved marble pillar. He glanced around for Sarah, but he couldn’t see her, so he approached the immaculately-groomed young woman behind the lavish reception desk.

She threw him a welcoming smile. “Good afternoon, sir – how can I help?”

“Get me the manager, would you, please, miss?”

The young lady gazed deeply into his eyes and seemed to swoon inside, which Dylan thought was very sweet – even though she was far too young for him. He liked an experienced woman – not some little post-grad who knew nothing about life, or about bedroom politics.

“Anything I can help you with, sir?” she asked hopefully.

“I don’t think so. I’m looking for Sarah Newell. She in today?”

“Yes, Miss Newell’s in the office. Just one moment please.”

Without taking her eyes off Dylan, the girl picked up the phone and pressed a few buttons. They both listened patiently as the line rang inside the handset against her ear. Dylan drummed his fingers on the walnut desk. The receptionist continued to stare at him like a schoolgirl with a teenage crush. He willed Sarah to pick up the phone, but she was obviously a busy woman and it simply rang and rang.

“I’ll just wait over there,” he said. “Tell Miss Newell I’m here, okay?”

The young lady smiled coyly. “Sure, what’s your name?”

“Dylan Quinlan.”

“Okay, Mr Quinlan…”

Dylan flopped down onto a spare squashy couch and pulled out his phone to compose a message to Adam. On his way here, Dylan hadn’t been able to stop thinking about this morning’s meeting with Orlov, and he was beginning to wonder whether the sponsorship deal was such a great idea. The man was clearly on the edge of megalomaniacal insanity – he sent hitmen after his enemies, for Christ’s sake. Dylan prided himself on being a shrewd businessman who took no prisoners, but he’d never dream of threatening people – he didn’t need to – his talent and credentials spoke for themselves. But Orlov… it was well-known that he was involved with some very shady Russians. Surely there were other ways to boost publicity for Grafton Techs which didn’t involve doing deals with corrupt Russians. It was Orlov who’d approached Dylan with the offer initially, and it had seemed like a great opportunity. But maybe now it was time to get out quick.

He composed a message to Adam. ‘I’m not sure about the Orlov deal. He’s an asshole. Do we really wanna get mixed up with him?’