No, that was stupid. Dylan was a man in control of his world. He was a successful businessman – dominating and assertive in the boardroom and bedroom – he was renowned for it. So maybe what he actually needed was to have her once more, to really get her out of his system. She was like an itch that required a good scratch – in the same way that his morning wood was currently desperate for her to suck it dry.
He shook himself out of it and focused on the day ahead. What he needed to do right now was get back to his place so he could shower, then get suited-up for his meeting with Vladimir Orlov. Shit, that was going to be strained after last night…
It was weird that Natalia had said she’d have some information for him today. He grabbed his phone and quickly sent Joseph a message to meet him in Leicester Square at noon. He wondered what the hell Natalia could possibly want to tell him. Maybe it had something to do with the deal with Orlov. Dylan decided he wouldn’t sign anything at the meeting this morning, just in case. What a shame he couldn’t meet with Natalia first, then Orlov. But Dylan was good at stalling contracts. He knew he was exceptional at what he did – that first internship after he’d left college had taught him some invaluable negotiating skills. In fact, it’d made him the success he was today. Thank goodness he hadn’t thrown it away for love. For Sarah.
****
Dressed in his Armani suit, Dylan made his way up to the Grafton Techs offices, in Central London. He was accustomed to expensive and lavish offices in Manhattan, but this place was the antithesis – the entire building was stark, old, and dowdy. But there wasn’t much point in refurbishing – he didn’t plan to retain this company for long. Most of the back-office staff were in the process of being let go, because when he and Adam eventually did sell this software company, the buyer would only want the technical staff, their clients, and their specialisation in the marketplace. In other words, Grafton Techs was currently being treated to a Quinlan Brothers streamlining makeover – and that didn’t include prettying up the offices. So the blue carpet tiles and shoddy plywood furnishings would have to do for now.
Dylan grabbed a coffee and retreated to his office to get on with some work until Orlov arrived. But he couldn’t get Sarah out of his mind. Just seeing her again had overwhelmed him – pulled him out of the mundanity of his life. Perhaps it was because she reminded him of his happier days as a student. But perhaps his student days had been happy because of Sarah. She’d certainly brightened up his life back then…
The sound of his phone ringing dragged Dylan back to the here and now – it was the receptionist letting him know that Orlov had arrived. He braced himself for trouble. But surely even the young Russian tycoon wouldn’t kill him on his own turf?
But really, who knew what he was capable of – the guy stank of corruption. Orlov was one of the youngest men in Russian politics. He was still only twenty-five and he’d already been Mayor of Moscow and investigated for tax fraud and extortion. Dylan guessed that buying the soccer club made a good front for his shady deals, so he could lie low in London and wait until his plans for Russian politics came to fruition. Dylan wouldn’t have been surprised if he was heading for the top job of Russian President. But he’d need to bide his time for that position – the current President had been occupying his seat in the Kremlin for almost twenty years. Orlov definitely had it in him, though. His chiselled features, strong jaw, and high cheekbones made him the epitome of a powerful leader. And that arrogant twinkle in his eye made Dylan glad he was one-hundred percent straight – he’d seen hardened businesswomen turn into gushing teenagers from a single Orlov wink. The ladies loved him, but he’d famously fallen hard for Natalia last year and married her fast. What a shame she wasn’t quite so enamoured with him after all. But perhaps that was more to do with Orlov’s unpleasant personality. He was handsome and charming, but stern and merciless. Dylan wondered how many other men he’d already had killed after finding out they’d been messing about with his beloved wife. And what would his punishment be for Natalia if she ever got caught?
Dylan strode out of his office with his head held high, knowing he looked powerful and commanding. He didn’t let his surprise show as his gaze fell upon the assassin from last night, plus another burly Russian bodyguard loitering by the main exit. Orlov himself was sitting causally in the drab reception, typing on his laptop, pretending he hadn’t noticed Dylan. The power games were in full force this morning, but Dylan knew the rules and refused to lose.
“Good morning, Mr Orlov,” Dylan said, forcing himself to be professional.
Orlov stood and thrust out his hand. “Dylan, hello. Apparently last night you gave my friend Mikhail here a little bump on the head, yes?”
Dylan shook Orlov’s hand, trying to win the ‘who can squeeze the hardest’ game. He glanced up at the young wiry bodyguard who’d been far too close for comfort last night. “He was holding a knife to my throat. I had no choice but to fight back.”
“Yes, luckily your wife was there to save you.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. What was he implying by that comment? That Dylan wasn’t man enough to take care of himself?
“Well, maybe you should think twice before sending someone to kick the shit outta me.”
Orlov shrugged. “I thought you were screwing my wife. I couldn’t let that slide.”
“Well, I wasn’t. And I gotta tell you, sending over a knife-wielding maniac isn’t how we resolve things in America.”
“You are not in America.”
“I don’t think it’s how Brits do things either. I think they prefer to get round a table and discuss it over tea.”
Orlov shook his head in contempt. “Spineless.”
Dylan let this jibe fizzle in the air. He threw Orlov a plastic smile. “Shall we go through to the boardroom?”
“For sure.”
“Will your bodyguards be joining us?”
“No. They will stay here.”
Dylan led Orlov through to the uninspiring Grafton Techs boardroom, where Amy and Adam were already discussing the deal. Dylan paused to introduce everyone.
“This is Amy Carter,” Dylan said. “She’s the Grafton Techs ops director. She’s based in the US, but if you sign the sponsorship deal with us, she’ll be the one you’ll liaise with.”
He leered at Amy. “I look very forward to working with you, Ms Carter.”
Dylan saw Adam tense possessively. There was something about Orlov’s tone that suggested by ‘working’, he meant ‘fucking’. Amy was a hard businesswoman, but she threw Orlov a smirk – unable to resist the captivating twinkle in his eye.
Dylan and Orlov sat down at the board table, and Dylan opened his iPad. He pushed away his arousal as his mind churned up a memory of Sarah. How he’d love to fuck her right now. Bend her over the board table. Thrust his cock into her tight little body until she came hard. Hear her calling his name as he ground deeply into her wet pussy…
Amy’s voice pulled him back to the here and now. “….And Grafton Techs has always strived to be competitive in the market. This is why Quinlan Brothers were so keen to acquire us in the first place.”
Orlov waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, all sounds good. I think I will go with this deal.”
Dylan suppressed his irritation at Orlov’s dismissiveness. Quinlan Brothers was about to give his soccer club millions of dollars in revenue, and he was treating it as if he was choosing a dessert.
“Send the contracts to my office,” Orlov said. “And I will sign.”
“That’s great, Mr Orlov,” Amy said. “I’m looking forward to Grafton Techs and Fenchurch United becoming friends.”
“Oh no, Ms Carter,” Orlov said. “I do not do business to become friends. I do business to keep my enemies close.” He stood up and glared at Dylan. “No more screwing my wife, please.”
Amy stood and tried to placate him. “Mr Orlov, I’m not sure –”
“I’ll see myself out,” he said. Then he turned and strode out of the boardroom.
>
“Jesus,” Adam said. “You’d never guess we were about to give him millions of dollars, would you?”
“What an asshole,” Dylan said. “I told him I didn’t sleep with his wife. Why won’t he take my word for it?”
Amy frowned. “Because it’s not true?”
Dylan smirked. “Yeah. Well, I’m not doing it again.”
“Not unless you want another knife-wielding visit from Mikhail,” Adam said.
Amy rested her hand on Adam’s arm. “That’s not it, baby. It’s because he’s been reunited with Sarah.”
Dylan scoffed. “Amy, you’re seriously deluded if you think I’m gonna stop fucking beautiful women just because some old flame’s thrust herself back into my life.”
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?’
Dylan pressed send. He already knew what Adam’s response was going to be. ‘Of course we should do the deal. This publicity will add billions to the value of Grafton Techs. Stop being such a pussy…’
But it was alright for Adam – he was going back to New York soon. Dylan would be the one stuck here with a Russian nutjob.
Dylan’s phone bleeped and he saw that Adam had replied, but he didn’t get the chance to open it, because a pair of smart high heels appeared in his vision. He looked up and followed two long legs towards a sleek suit jacket – and at the top, he was treated to a warm smile. “Hello, Dylan Quinlan.”
He stood up to greet her with a peck on the cheek. “Hey, Sarah.”
She stepped backwards. “Dylan, please not in front of my staff. I hope you realise you’ve got my receptionist in a tizzy.”
He smirked. “I can’t be that special, sweetheart. You ran out on me. Again.”
Dylan could see she wanted to smile, but she hardened her expression. “Last night was wonderful. But I needed to come back to work. Back to reality. When are you leaving London?”
“You trying to get rid of me?”
“Yes I am. I told you last night, you’re trouble.”
“Don’t worry about the Russian, okay? I probably won’t do business with him.”
“It’s nothing to do with the Russian. It’s you.”
He gazed deeply into her eyes, wishing he could captivate her as much as her receptionist. “I love it when you play hard to get, Sarah. You remember when we first met at college. Jesus, I really had to work to –”
She threw her hand to her hip. “You sent me away back then, Dylan. You could’ve begged me to stay, but you didn’t. I’ve wracked my brains for years trying to think of why you didn’t want me there anymore – I assume it was because you fell in love with someone else and wanted me out the picture.”
Her words struck his heart painfully. “Sarah, there was never anyone else – it was hell for me too, okay. Your mom needed you and you needed to be with her. That was my only reason – you gotta believe me.”
Sarah glared down at the shiny floor and swallowed hard. Dylan noticed tears welling up in her eyes, so he instinctively reached out and held her hand. She didn’t pull away this time, but her muscles tensed, squeezing his fingers hard.
Not caring whether her staff saw, Dylan reached out and cupped her chin in his other hand. “Listen, babe, Amy’s throwing an engagement party tonight and she wants you to come… I want you to come. We can talk there, okay? If you’ve got things you need to ask me or say to me, you can. Huh? What do you say?”
Worry flashed across Sarah’s lovely face. “I don’t know, Dylan. What if the past should stay in the –”
S
he continued making excuses, but Dylan’s attention was seized by a movement behind her and he realised a small audience had now gathered, consisting of suited bartenders, glamorous receptionists, and white-coated waiting staff. “Apparently you don’t often get men turning up to woo you at work, right?”
She cringed and laughed nervously. “Oh god, are they all there?”
“A few. Can we go someplace and talk?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You forget that I know what that means.”
He smirked. “No seriously, I just wanna talk… Well, alright, I wanna carry you off and ravish you so hard that all those gawkers will hear you screaming my name in ecstasy over and over and over. How does that sound?”
Sarah stifled a chuckle, then she composed herself. “Dylan, I don’t know if I can handle having you back in my life.”
He grinned. “Why don’t you try it? You might be pleasantly surprised!”
Chapter Seven
Sarah’s knees surged with nerves as she led Dylan to her favourite room in the hotel. She was fairly sure he didn’t really just want to talk – or at least she hoped not. She didn’t know what it was about him, but she found it impossible to resist his charms, and he knew it.
They halted outside the hotel room and she rummaged in her pocket for her keycard. She glanced at him. He winked, making her laugh.
“Come on,” she said. “We can talk in here.”
Her lust pounded hard between her thighs as she strode inside with Dylan close behind, like a predator stalking its prey.
She drew back the heavy drapes to let the sunlight in, then she glanced around the room. It was her favourite suite for good reason. She’d written the marketing description herself recently: ‘If it’s glamour and comfort you require – combined with elegant extravagance – the Grosvenor Suite offers the ultimate in opulence. The suite is beautifully adorned with antique mahogany furniture, a luxury marble bathroom, and…’
The Billionaire's Affair: Billionaire Brothers (Tycoon Billionaires Book 2) Page 4
