Madness or Love (Be With Me Book 1) (3 page)

He fell quiet for a minute, savoring the energy
flowing from her emerald-green eyes. “I think you’ll make your dream come true.
I have a feeling you’ll be a great hotel manager. I can tell you’re a person
who knows what she wants, knows how to get it, and has the will to do it.” He
emptied his glass. “I’m sorry to cut our chat short, but I have to go now or
I’ll look like the living-dead in the morning. Thank you,” he hesitated, “for
the pleasant conversation and the sleeping pill.” He winked at her.

“You’re welcome! Good night, Mr. Young.”

“Ian,” he corrected.

“Ian,” she echoed and smiled.

* * *

The morning felt unusual; every female employee
suddenly showed up for work, and the foyer quickly crowded with people who
tried to look busy. Victoria knew better.  When for a third time she needed to
retell the events of last night, she sighed in exasperation and hid in the bathroom.
Stacy was the worst of them all, shooting question after question.

“I feel like a criminal at a cross-examination,” said
Victoria in the changing room where Stacy waited, eager to get more information.
She opened her mouth, but Victoria stopped her. “I’ll have no more of this
nonsense. I’m going home.” And without waiting for a reaction, she left the
room.

She was putting on her jacket when she heard his
voice. Ian was talking on the phone, crossing the space between the elevators
and the front desk in seconds.

“I understand,” he said with agitation and a hint of
anger. “No,” a deep frown formed on his forehead, “I’m not mad. I just hate to
be late. I have to go; will talk to you later.” He hung up.

The floor hushed, and every woman gaped at him in
admiration. He was wearing a dark gray jacket, white T-shirt, and black jeans,
the true face of casual, but something in the way he moved was transforming him
into a living god.

He leaned over the desk and smiled. “Good morning,
lovely lady! I need a favor. Would you call a taxi for me, please? I’m late, I
might add.”

He is really good at getting what he wants
, Victoria thought. His eyes never
left the receptionist’s until he had compelled her.
Really good.
Victoria felt mesmerized herself. She thought about sneaking out of the
building but decided against it and continued to stand there, stilled.

Her colleague behind the desk stumbled, murmured
something incoherent, and dialed a number. A few rings later, she spoke with a
shaky voice. “They said it’s going to take twenty minutes to get here; traffic
is bad this time of the day. Is that
—?
”

“Damn it,” he cursed quietly. “I’m late as it is. I
needed to be on my way like five minutes ago.” He bent his head, staring
blankly at his phone.

“I can drive you,” said Victoria. The words slipped
out of her mouth unconsciously.
Did I just say that out loud?
she thought
in horror.

He turned to face her, and his eyes slid over her
body, tip to toe. She was wearing a cropped white jacket, skinny denim jeans, a
floral-print top, and green high heels, but what caught his eye was the
lemon-colored handbag.

A hint of admiration crossed over his face. “Victoria.”
Her name hung in the air.

He was the first to come around. “You have a car?”

She nodded.

“And you’ve finished work?”

She smiled, amused by his expression.

“What are we waiting for?” he asked, still not fully
aware of his stroke of luck.

She led the way to the staff parking lot, conscious of
the looks and the gaping mouths of her colleagues. She had parked her Fiat 500
at the back of the building.

Once they reached the spot, she unlocked the car and
he opened the door. “It’s small.” He frowned.

“It’s a car.” She shrugged.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend
—
” He got in.

“You didn’t,” she interrupted. “Would you type the
address into the GPS?”

He nodded, and they drove away. The silence settled between
them.
It’s not awkward at all
, she thought. They were too close in the
small vehicle; so close that she felt the heat of his body and smelled his aftershave.
She glanced quickly at him. Ian looked calm on the surface, but the clenched
jaw and the tensed muscles told her the truth.

“We’ll get there.” She broke the silence.

He looked at her, instantly distracted by her full
lips. “I hate to be late,” he said with clear irritation in his voice.
“Schedules are made to be kept.”

“I thought people like you don’t bother with that kind
of . . . stuff.”

“People like me?” His eyebrows lifted.

She blushed. What was wrong with her? She definitely
needed a brain-to-mouth filter. “You know, celebrities, famous and rich people
. . .” She trailed off and glanced cautiously at him.

“Ouch,” was all he said.

“What? I didn’t say anything to offend you.” Her voice
shook a little.

“It’s what you didn’t say. You, plain and simple,
think I’m an asshole,” he stated calmly.

Victoria frowned, pondering her next words. “I expected
you to be an asshole,” she paused. “Now I see I was wrong.” She tightened her
grip on the steering wheel.

His laugh filled the cramped space. “You’re
different.” He studied her face until the color of her cheekbones changed from
pale pink to deep red, and then he looked away.

“Different how?” she insisted and tried to regain her
composure.

“You’re honest,” he answered without hesitation.

The traffic light ahead switched to red, and she hit
the brakes, stopped, and then looked at him. “You make it sound like a rare
quality.”

“It is in my world, where there are more people like
me.” He smiled, but his voice betrayed his vulnerability.

Their eyes locked, time stretched, and the silence
said more than any words could.

She broke the invisible bridge. “We are almost there,”
she said quietly when the light switched to green.

He hesitated, contemplating an internal dilemma. “I
have an idea. Are you free tonight?”

She shot him a questioning gaze. “Yes.”

“You’ve reached your destination,” the mechanical female
voice said.

Victoria parked a few meters away and turned to face
him.

“Let me buy you dinner,” he said, and unbuckled his
seatbelt. “It will be my way to say thank you. You’ll get to tell me more about
that hotel of yours, and I’ll get the chance to show you I’m not an asshole.”
He smiled at her and melted all of her wavering doubt away.

“You’re asking me out?” Her voice betrayed a hint of
disbelief.

“Yes.”

She stared at his face and tried to read those deep,
blue pools—his eyes. Victoria met only genuine interest and pure heart.

“Okay,” she murmured.

“Great!” He produced a card from his inside pocket and
scribbled something on the back. “That’s my mobile. Text me your address. I’ll
pick you up around eight, if that’s okay.”

“You don’t have to
—
” she
started.

“Italian?” he asked and completely ignored her
protests.

She paused and took a deep breath. “Okay. Then it’s a
date.”

The sound of her words made her add hastily. “I didn’t
mean that . . .”

He smirked at her. “It’s a date.”

And just like that, he got out of the car and
disappeared into the nearby building.

The wait was killing her. Victoria paced back and forth
and peered through the curtains every other minute. She felt ridiculous.
Why
am I so nervous?
The question swirled in her mind.
This is not a date!
But what was it, then? Ian Young was gorgeous and kind, and he made her
uncomfortable. The main reason was that peculiar connection between them; the
sense that his feelings and thoughts were projected onto her. She was drawn to
him, not just sexually, but on some deeper, spiritual level; she wanted to know
more—she needed to be around him. The mess of feelings made her uneasy.
Victoria had no expectation to see him again after that night, but that fact didn’t
matter.

The doorbell rang, and she carefully approached the
hallway, took a deep breath, made the last few steps, and opened the door. He
was leaning on the frame, relaxed, and calmly looked at her. The crisp, white
slim-fit shirt he was wearing hinted at his chiseled muscular body; the dark-gray
trousers softly caressed his thighs. Coincidence or not, his purple tie matched
the color of her dress.

He smiled appraisingly, and she was suddenly glad that
she had chosen the elegant outfit and the stilettos. The match was perfect, and
that didn’t apply only to their clothes. Her uneasiness melted away with only
one look into his unimaginably-blue eyes. He didn’t give her a compliment but
remained silent. The look on his face, though, made her feel like she was the
only woman that mattered to him. Victoria couldn’t help but smile.

“Shall we?” He mirrored her and offered his hand. 

She took it, and they started down the stairs and
toward the taxi parked on the street. She clenched his hand tighter; the high heels
made her unsteady.

“Women,” he muttered to himself. “They all think that
fashion is some kind of a punishment.”

“Don’t make me laugh!” Victoria giggled. “You’ll see
what punishment is if I break a leg.”

They reached the street, and he opened the door for
her.

She paused. “Where did you come from?” she asked in
bewilderment.

“The States,” he answered with an all-knowing smile
splashed on his face.

“I mean . . . what era?”

“Don’t you appreciate me acting like a gentleman?”

“Of course, I do. I just thought your kind was
extinct.” Her eyes softened.

“People like me, my kind—lady, you continue to stab at
my heart.” He faked a chest pain. “I thought I was just an asshole, but now, it
appears I’m a dinosaur as well.”

She laughed. “Stop pretending you’re offended! I’ve
never met someone like you, that’s all. Maybe you’re in fact the last one of
your species.” She winked.

“I don’t like to think that way; it would be sad,” he
said quietly, and for a brief moment, he looked like a little boy.

She was genuinely impressed.

Ian gave her a twenty-four-karat smile. “My lady, my
black stallion is waiting for you!”

She giggled but decided to play along. “My lord,” she
said and got in the taxi.

He closed the door with a smirk. It was going to be an
interesting night.

The ride in the confined space of the taxi had been a
bit awkward. Facing each other, though, at the small, secluded table at Da
Vinci, an authentic Italian restaurant, they were laughing. The food was
divine, but Victoria didn’t have much time to enjoy it because she was
desperate to take a breath. He told behind-the-set stories and bloopers he had
made. Ian proved to be so funny that she found it hard to remain serious. He
couldn’t either. Her laugh was contagious.

“Okay,” he said through desperate gasps for air, “I
won’t say a word from now on. You can’t eat.”

She took a breath to calm herself. “I will, I promise.
I can’t believe you did that. It’s too funny. Don’t stop, please!” Her eyes
sparkled with a child-like excitement.

“When you’re on set working fifteen to sixteen hours a
day, pranks are inevitable.” He shrugged. “I’ll tell you more later. It’s your
turn now.”

She looked at him questioningly.

“Tell me about that dream of yours,” he compelled her.

Victoria hesitated for a fraction before speaking. “I
actually dreamed about it once,” she said, slightly embarrassed. “I saw my
hotel, a grand white house, the staircase with ornate wooden railings, the big
French windows on the ground floor, the gardens surrounding the place. I can
even recall the smell of the roses.” She looked down, not sure why she had told
him all that.

“It sounds like a beautiful and peaceful place,” he
said softly.

She looked up, expecting him to mock her, but his eyes
disproved her.

“Do you think you’ll be able to pull this off?”

“Not without help from a bank,” she answered, “a
business credit, I hope, mortgage if I have to. But it’s too soon. I need some
solid ground under my feet before I can run and beg for money.” She stated the
reality of the situation without a hint of desperation. Victoria had accepted
the truth and had refused to be downhearted.

He fell silent for a few seconds. “I think I can help
you. I know some people into recycling materials, energy-saving lighting, that
kind of stuff.” He smiled, amused by her wide eyes; the green brightened up and
transformed into molten turquoise. Bewitched, he briefly closed his eyes and
continued. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to help you when you’re ready. And
sometimes it’s all about knowing the right people.”