Madness or Love (Be With Me Book 1) (2 page)

Victoria
couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud. “That sounded like a part of Wikipedia.
My God, you’re Stacypedia! Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with him, please,” she
said seriously.

“No,” Stacy sighed, “but he is so gorgeous I couldn’t
help it. Let me show you a picture!
” She typed
a few words in the search engine on the computer and clicked on images.
Ian Young was pretty, no doubt, and six foot tall with dark, almost black,
messy hair and extraordinary blue eyes. The depth of their color was
hypnotizing.

“Victoria.” Her boss, John Patterson, broke the spell.
“You’re here—good. I need to talk to you in my office, please.”

The young woman looked at Stacy, willing her to close
the page on the front desk computer showing the colorful image of their future
hotel guest. Stacy shrugged her shoulders and, completely unfazed, did it.
Victoria sighed, straightened up, stepped into Mr. Patterson’s office, and
closed the door behind her.

“Please, take a seat!” He pointed to a cozy leather
chair.

She sat down and expectantly looked him straight in
his eyes.

“I assume you heard the news about Mr. Young?”

She nodded.

“He should arrive later tonight, and I count on you to
welcome him and make sure he has everything he might need. Thankfully, you are
night shift; otherwise, I am not sure how we would handle this. All of your
colleagues are . . . How to say it?”

“Swooning? Drooling?” offered Victoria.

“Good, you know what I mean,” he said with relief in
his voice. “Just make sure he’s happy; we weren’t his first choice. I think I
don’t have to explain the benefits and the potential PR for the hotel this
could bring. You’re a smart, bright young woman, and I know you deserve far
more than your current position. So, if everything goes as planned, we can talk
about your promotion.
”

Her eyes widened a fraction, but she kept her
professional tone.

“You can count on me.
”

John breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.” He shook her
hand. “I can finally go home, then. Oh, and I’ve warned everybody to be
discreet. I don’t want to come in the morning and be greeted by a bunch of
reporters, or worse—fans.”

“I understand. We’ll keep our mouths shut.”

“Good! You may go now. And, Victoria . . . thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Patterson.” She nodded and left
the room.

Stacy looked at her expectantly. “So?”

“I’m not in trouble, if you’re asking that. He asked me
to supervise this fangirling.” She looked around. “And I will,” she said
firmly. “Oh, and, Stacy, stop googling his name!”

* * *

Later that evening, Victoria was sitting behind the
front desk, trying to put together a plan, brainstorming different scenarios in
her head. Her main concern was that Mr.
Ian
Young would turn out to be stuck-up and spoiled like some
filthy
-
rich kid
. She had no idea what to expect, and her lack of information seemed more
and more like a disadvantage. Victoria quickly looked around for Stacy
and hastily
typed Ian’s name in the search engine
on her computer. Two bright, warm eyes were staring at her in 0.002 seconds. He
was definitely attractive and completely aware of his good looks. She frowned,
hoping she wouldn’t have to deal with the latest Narcissus. She quickly scanned
the wiki article about him and played an interview dated several months ago. To
her surprise, he seemed
e
a
sy
going, funny, and playfully flirty. Victoria
was well aware that his appearances could have been an act. At the end of the
day, he was making a living out of it. She sighed and closed the window, aware
of the fact that she couldn’t get to know someone based on pictures and
interviews.

Midnight was approaching fast, and Stacy got restless.
“Why is he late? What if I can’t see him?”
Hor
r
or
filled her eyes.

“You’ll meet him tomorrow.” Victoria put all effort into
trying not to snap at her. Her colleague’s behavior was more than
unprofessional.
“Maybe it’s time for you to go home,
Stacy. Your shift ended half an hour ago.”

“But
—
”
she started to protest.

"No
‘
buts.
’
G
o home, have some sleep
,
and come back in the morning!”
The woman’s tone did not bear any
arguments.
Stacy surprisingly capitulated, and
Victoria allowed herself a sigh.
The
last thing she needed was a
welcoming com
m
i
t
t
ee
.

* * *

Victoria was flipping through the next week’s schedule
when she heard
the
sliding doors. She lifted her eyes gently, studying the man approaching her—faded
tan leather jacket, gray V-neck T-shirt, dark denim jeans, unlaced military
boots in a natural color, dark, messy hair, and tired blue eyes. She held her
gaze on his face a little longer. He had a polished look; his skin was healthy
and well maintained. His whole body radiated confidence, but the eyes were what
made you stop, although they were the only feature that gave away his fatigue. After
more than a seven hour flight, only
the fine lines around his eyes spoke about
a jet lag
.

And then he smiled at her
.
The most genuine and warm smile that she’d ever come across
transformed his face immediately. The jet lag was gone and replaced with
kindness and compassion. Amazed, she smiled back with her innermost, reserved-only-for-friends-and-family
smile. Her soul instinctively responded to the glow coming out of him. He closed
the distance fast, and she stood up.

“Mr. Young, welcome!” She offered her hand, and he
took it. Two warm palms connected into one. No electricity flowed, no desire
overwhelmed their bodies—just calmness, security, trust, two souls who finally
found each other.
Bizarre
, she thought, resisting the urge to tell him
all of her secrets.
A soul mate.
The thought crossed her mind for a
fraction of a second.

“Ian, just Ian, please.” His voice broke her line of
thought. “And you are?”

“Victoria Dean, Senior Front Office Assistant. Nice to
meet you! I hope you’ll enjoy your stay at Boutique on the Gardens.” They held
hands longer than necessary, and he briefly glanced at their entwined fingers.
Was it the exhaustion or was this woman making him feel—he tried to put a name
to it—accepted, cared for, welcomed, safe? She wasn’t a Hollywood beauty, the
kind he was so tired of. His first impression was she radiated goodness, like a
little bowl of happiness. And without a doubt, that made her look so damn
attractive—not the impossibly green eyes or the sexy, full lips, though they
played a part too. Her smile widened, reflecting his.
Bizarre.
The
thought circled his mind. He figured he was immune to beauty; however, that
wasn’t why he felt connected to her. The lack of an instant physical attraction
between them could have been a result of his long flight, but the feeling of
total understanding was inexplicable.

She was the first to regain her composure. “I hope you
had a tolerable flight,” she said, and very slowly pulled her hand away.
Waiting for an answer with genuine interest, she looked him straight in his
eyes.

He shrugged. “Pleasant enough, if you can ever call an
eight-hour-long butt cramp pleasant.”

She laughed—a tinkling, enchanting sound. “Okay then,
I’ll make this quick. I need you to sign this.” She passed him a paper. “Your
key is here, and you’re free to go and take care of your . . . backside.”

It was his turn to laugh. “You don’t happen to know a twenty-four-seven
on-call massage service?”

“I am sorry, I don’t.” She thought for a second. “I
can try to find someone online for you.”

“I don’t think it will be necessary, but thank you,
anyway,” Ian simply responded.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“You’ve done enough.” He winked.

She felt the heat rising in her cheeks.
Please,
don’t blush
, she begged silently and, hoping her body wouldn’t betray her,
looked at him bravely. “The apartment is on the top floor,” she said, trying to
change the subject. “Do you need any help with your luggage?”

“I’ll be fine, Victoria.” And a moment later, he
disappeared into the elevator.

She blinked and sat down in the chair behind the front
desk.
That went well
, she thought. The strange connection she felt with
that man still lingered in the air. He was the complete opposite to what she
had imagined, at least at first impression. He had used his charms very well,
but at the same time, she could feel his humanity. He did not seem vain; he was
the real-deal human being. She tried to put him at the back of her mind and
paged through some reservation reports. Losing track of time, she was startled
by the elevator ting and sharply turned her head around. And no doubt, Ian
Young stood in the hallway wearing a simple cotton T-shirt and soft beige
trousers.

He moved slowly and rested his hands on the smooth
reception surface. Ian looked at her seriously. “I have a problem.”

Her heart sank together with her infinitesimal chance
for promotion.

“I can’t sleep.” His tone was still deadly serious.

She frowned, trying to figure out a polite enough
response, but he rewarded her with the brightest of his smiles and sincerely
begged. “Help me! And I’m telling you right now, sheep-counting doesn’t work.”

She beamed at him. “I have something for you,” she
replied reassuringly. Victoria left the front desk and walked toward the lobby bar,
feeling his gaze on her back. She poured a glass of bourbon, walked back, and handed
it to him.

He took the glass, looking at the caramel-colored
liquid, and inhaled the rich aroma. “Jack? Is that your remedy?” His tone was
playful and the voice warm.

She smiled back and made his pulse raise a notch. “Do
you trust me?”
Was she flirting with him? Stop this right now,
she
scowled herself.    

“As a matter of fact, I do. No matter how crazy that
sounds.” His eyes pierced hers. “I just thought you’d do some kind of magic or
mix a potion.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I never went to
Hogwarts.”

He laughed, and the sound touched a chord in her soul.
“Touché! Do you mind if I hang around; I hate to drink alone.” There was an
under layer in his tone, something between the lines, loneliness maybe, and she
felt the emotion so strong like it was her own.

She resisted the urge to take his hand and comfort him.
“I don’t mind. And . . . I don’t like to be alone either.”

He paused. That wasn’t what he’d said, but it was true
anyway. Ian wasn’t mistrustful by nature, but after all those years spent in
the movie and fashion industry, he had learned to be more cautious with people.
It was hard to tell who your real friends were in a life where almost
everything was fake. People were wearing masks, never letting their emotions on
the surface. It was a constant flow of happy, smiley faces, pretenses and
snobbery.

The woman in front of him was different.  She wasn’t
intimidated nor dazzled by him; she was looking straight into his blue eyes,
and he sensed her concern, compassion, a real interest, not to his public
image, but to the living, breathing human being behind the mask.

“So, how long have you been working here?” he asked,
taking a sip.

“Six months.” She leaned back and relaxed a little.

“
Do you like
the job
?
”

“Yes, I do,” Victoria said calmly.

“Is this what you dream about, how you see yourself?”

She paused for a second. “No,” she answered with no
hint of regret or self-pity.  

There was genuine interest on his face as he leaned
forward. “Tell me!”

“It’s a long, boring story, and I thought you needed
some sleep,” she pointed out.

“Tell me!” His eyes were willing her to share, to be
honest and open.

And she did open up. “Okay . . . I want to run my own
hotel, a green one, somewhere on the coast maybe. I’ve always dreamed about it,
like a vision in the back of my mind. Right now, my job is just a means to an
end, a place where I’ll gather knowledge and real experience, not to mention
money to start with.” She blushed slightly.

“By green, you mean . . . ?”

“Eco-friendly, built of natural materials, equipped
with energy-saving gadgets, recycled furniture and décor pieces.” She took a
breath, feeling the rush of her enthusiasm. “I know it’s not going to be easy,
but I’ll try. I don’t like to give up.” Her eyes were sparkling, showing the
passion she felt about that project.