Chasing Dreams

chapter five

“I’m sorry Bonnie,” Ivy apologized when she saw her waiting for her in the lobby. “I understand if you never hire me again,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. She found herself looking back to see if Vincent followed her.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t hire you?” Bonnie asked.

“Because…Because I didn’t do a very good job,” Ivy said, waiting to hear the elevator doors open any minute.

“Ivy. You did a wonderful job,” Bonnie reassured her, a warm sincere smile spreading across her face. “It wasn’t your fault that Mr. Barron was still in his office,” she added.

“Thank you,” Ivy said gratefully, giving Bonnie a big hug.

Outside when the Uber, Bonnie had ordered pulled up. Ivy said, “I think I’m going to walk.” She was hoping the walk would clear her head.

“I don’t think you should,” Bonnie said. “It’s not safe walking the street alone,” she warned her.

Even though it was well after midnight, Ivy was pretty sure it was safe. She had walked home from here enough to know the way even in the dark. “I’ll be fine,” Ivy said, brushing Bonnie’s warning off.

Ivy noticed how different the street were at night. During the day it was crowded with people bustling in and out the buildings that lined the downtown street. It was quiet this time of night, Ivy felt like she was the only person in the city. Almost like Chicago was her own little city.

After a few blocks she felt someone grabbing her arm. At first she thought it was Vincent, but when she turned around it was a stranger. He had a weird look on his face. “Let me go!” Ivy yelled. Her free hand reaching up to slap his face.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned. His other hand catching her before it made contact with his face.

Ivy raised her knee hoping that kneeing him in the groin would work like it did with Arnie. But he was too quick for her, spinning her around. His hand coming up around her neck. “Do like I said and nobody gets her,” he whispered in her ear.

“Please…don’t hurt me,” Ivy begged. Her breathing coming out in short pants. At this moment she really wished Vincent and followed her, or she had listen to Bonnie.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he sneered. The other hand moving to slip inside her sweatpants. “Feel that p***y trembling for me,” he said. His fingers running along the top of her panties.

Ivy choked back a sob when the tip of his finger slipped inside her panties. She pressed her eyes shut waiting for this nightmare to be over. Then that all too familiar voice rang out and it was angry when it said, “Get your damn hands off her.”

Vincent paced back in forth in his office after watching Ivy leave. He was debating on whether or not to go after her. “Screw it,” he said, grabbing his jacket, heading for the parking garage.

He didn’t know how, but he was going to convince her that he didn’t care if she was like Elle. “Drive slow,” he told Bones, climbing into the back of the limo.

“You want to tell me why, Boss?” Bones asked, driving in the direction Vincent told him. “Does it have to do with the girl from the club?” Bones knew he shouldn’t be asking but he had never seen his boss act like this before.

“Yeah….Bones it is,” he confessed. His head sticking out the window hoping he could see her walking down the street.

He didn’t understand why it was so important to convince Ivy, he didn’t want her to be Elle. He didn’t even understand why every time he saw her, he couldn’t think straight. No woman he had ever slept with ever had this much of effect on him.

They drove a few block when the sight of Ivy trying to kick a man caught his attention. “Stop, Bones!” Vincent shouted. His anger rising at the sight of some d**k’s hands groping Ivy.

“Boss…don’t do something stupid,” Bones warned, remembering the last time a guy touch Ms. Ivy.

“I’m not,” Vincent said, amazed how calm his voice sounded, stepping out of the limo. “Stay close,” he told Bones.

Slowly walking towards them, Vincent pulled out his wallet. “Get your damn hands off her,” he said, the anger he was feeling reflecting in his voice.

The man jerked around. It took every ounce of strength that Vincent had not to rip the man’s head off, when he saw where his hand was. The look of pure fear on Ivy’s face wasn’t helping the situation. “You can have this,” Vincent told him, pulling out a wad of cash, hoping that would convince to let her go.

If he had to use force to get him to let Ivy go. It was not going to go well at all. He would kill this son-of-a-b***h. “Come on man…don’t be stupid,” Vincent said, waving the money around. “Is she really worth going to jail for…or worse.”

Vincent watched the man’s eyes dart from Ivy to the money. It was as if he was debating what he wanted more. Finally, he shoved Ivy down to the ground, sprinting towards him, yanking the money of his hand, disappearing down the street.

“Ivy,” Vincent said, running to her. She was still on the ground where the guy had shoved her. “Ivy,” he whispered, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Oh…I am so stupid,” Ivy cried, burying her face in her hands. “Bonnie told me…I didn’t listen,” she sobbed. “No wonder I can’t get a job. I can’t even walk home,” she said, forgetting that Vincent was there.

“You not stupid, Ivy,” Vincent said, pulling her hands away from her face. He hated when she belittled herself.

“Yes, I am Vincent,” she argued, jerking free from his grip, standing up. “Why do keep rescuing me? Why do you…?” she asked. “Maybe---you should have just let___,” her voice trailing off.

“Enough,” Vincent snapped. He was getting sick and tired of her thinking she wasn’t worth anything. “Stop!” he said when she started to protest, shaking her shoulders. “You are sacred that’s all,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

Ivy wanted to protest, to tell Vincent just to leave her be. She didn’t deserve his concern, but when he lifted her in his arms. Telling her that she was safe and he would never let anyone hurt her, she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Hold me,” her voice a soft whisper, burying her face in his neck.

“I got you,” Vincent said, carrying her to the limo. “I got you.”

In Vincent’s limo, listening to him tell Bones her address. Ivy realized she didn’t want to go home, she wanted to stay with Vincent. “Can’t I go home with you?” she asked, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Please, Vincent,” she begged when he didn’t respond right away. “I want to stay with you,” her voice trembling as she spoke.

“Home, Bones,” Vincent reluctantly said, pulling Ivy to him.

Ivy stood admiring the amazing view of Chicago from Vincent’s living room window. She had never seen anything so breathtaking. She could literally stand here all day and never get tired of looking at that view. “Wow,” she sighed.

When they arrived at Vincent’s penthouse, he told her she could take a shower if she wanted. He even let her borrow a sweatshirt and a pair of joggers. They were way to big on her. She still couldn’t believe she was in his home. “Whoa,” she said when she heard Vincent coming from his bedroom.

Ivy swallowed the lump in her throat when she saw Vincent only on a pair of gray joggers. They were hung dangerously low on his hips. Looking at him in his expensive designer suit, you were never expect him to look like a perfectly sculptured God.

His abs were so perfectly chiseled that she was pretty sure that it was illegal to be that sexy. The V-shaped that disappeared inside his joggers, made her want to run her fingers along it. She could see on the tops of his shoulder, what hinted at tattoos.

“You have tattoos?” she heard herself asking.

Vincent strolled to the bar, pouring himself a drink. “I got it in law school after passing the bar exam,” he said. His roaming over Ivy in his clothes. She was still the most beautiful woman.

“Can I see?” Ivy asked, very intrigued by what it was. “Can I touch it?” she asked when she saw an eagle tattooed across his back.

Vincent nodded, trying to mentally prepare himself for Ivy touching him. He closed his eyes at her timid touch. Her fingers traced the inky lines of the eagle, feather by feather, as if she could feel the stories etched beneath his skin. Vincent shivered, the muscles in his back flexing involuntarily under her gentle touch. Ivy’s breath caught in her throat, heart pounding as she lingered at the curve of his shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a hush between them.

Vincent turned, catching her hand in his, his gaze searching her face. “I was drunk. I don’t remember getting it,” his voice low and gravelly.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” Ivy said softly. “I know I don’t deserve your kindness,” she sniffled, her eyes drifting to the floor.

“Why do you say that, Ivy?” Vincent asked, tilting her head back so he could see her face.

“I haven’t been very nice to you since we’ve meet,” Ivy admitted.

Vincent let out a small chuckle thinking of his encounters with Ivy. “Well, our meetings haven’t always been normal. And…you have had reasons not to be happy with me,” he added.

“True,” Ivy agreed, a small giggle escaping her lips. “Wow,” she sighed. Her gaze wandering back out towards Vincent’s view. “I could look at this all day.”

“It is breathtaking,” Vincent agreed. He wasn’t talking about the view.

“You have a beautiful home,” Ivy said, looking around the beautifully decorated apartment.

“It was all my decorator,” Vincent said, taking Ivy’s hand leading her to one of the plush beige sofa.

“Holy cow!” Ivy exclaimed when she sat down on it. It felt like she was sitting on a cloud. “This feels amazing,” she said, pulling her feet up on the cushion. “Sorry,” she apologized, letting her feet fall back to the floor, remembering that she wasn’t at home.

“Don’t be,” Vincent said, plopping down next to her, propping his feet up on the leather ottoman.

Ivy’s eyes wandered around Vincent’s living room. It was masculine and elegant just like him. “I want to live in a place just like this,” Ivy said, pulling her legs up onto the sofa. “I wanna view just like that,” she sighed, laying her chin on the back of the sofa.

“Is that your dream?” Vincent asked, turning his head so he could see her. She was staring out the window a look of wonderment written all over her face.

“I don’t know what my dream is anymore,” Ivy confessed. She turned her head just enough so that her cheek was resting against the cushion. Vincent’s eyes were locked on her.

“Why do you say that?” Vincent adjusted himself, so he was facing her. His hand reaching out to brush away the hair from her face. He realized that he didn’t even know why she moved to Chicago. “Why did you move to Chicago?” His finger linger longer than they should have been.

Ivy closed her eyes. Vincent’s touch was warm and gentle against her skin. She never wanted him to stop. “I moved to Chicago because Style was hiring. That was the day we first met.”

“Is that the only reason you moved here?” he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. He craved more details about her.

“No,” Ivy said. “I’ve always wanted to live here. I would see pictures of it or see it on TV---and I wanted to be here,” she said. Her eyes wandering back to stare out the window. “I used to sit in my room and dream of my perfect life here,” she confessed. “I used to think I could be whatever I wanted here. The possibilities were endless. Now…now I’m not so sure.”

“Hey…look at me,” Vincent told Ivy when she buried her face into the cushion. “Why do you say that?” he asked when she finally turned to face him.

“I’m a maid,” she cried. “I can’t even get a job answering the phone.” The tears began to fall down her face.

“C’mere,” Vincent said, scooting across the sofa pulling her into his embrace. “It’s tough living in the city,” he said. He honestly didn’t know what to tell her. He couldn’t imagine what she must be going through, being a lawyer was the only thing he ever wanted to do. “You just have to be strong.”

“I don’t think I have the strength,” Ivy said, drawing her knees up, huddling closer to Vincent.

“You can always lean on me,” Vincent offered, leaning his head forward, looking her in the eye.

Ivy looked up at him bewilderment written on her face. She couldn’t believe after everything he would be there when she needed a friend. “Really?” her voice not hiding the surprise in it.

“Of course,” Vincent said grinning. “We are friends…aren’t we?” he asked.

A big smile spread across Ivy’s face. She liked the idea of being friends with Vincent. “I like that,” she said honestly.

“Me, too,” Vincent replied. His fingers skimming across her cheek. “Do you have anymore jobs lined up?” Vincent asked, clearing his throat. Those innocent eyes staring up at him was making it difficult to concentrate.

“A few,” Ivy said, sitting back from him. “I…I don’t even know if I want to go.”

“Why?” Vincent asked. He wanted to help her, but he was afraid to offer his help.

“I’m sacred I won’t get it,” Ivy admitted. Her eyes wandering back to stare out the window.

“You might,” Vincent said softly, trying to give her just a little bit of hope.

“What if I don’t?” Ivy asked. Her gaze drifting back to Vincent a lone tear slipping down her cheek.

Vincent reached over, his thumb gently wiping away the tear. “Then you’ll try again,” he murmured, his voice steady and certain. “And I’ll be right here, cheering you on no matter what happens.”

Ivy let out a shaky breath, drawing a small measure of comfort from his words. The room felt quieter now, the tension between them softening into something tender. “It’s just… hard to keep believing in myself,” she whispered, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

He studied her for a moment, a gentle determination in his eyes. “Well, I believe in you. That’s not nothing, is it?”

“Why?” Ivy asked. Her eyes full of disbelief as she looked at him. No one back in Snow’s Corner ever believed her. She couldn’t understand why a guy like Vincent Barron did.

Vincent let his head fall back in frustration every time he thought he was getting through to her. She questioned his intentions. He swallowed his impatience taking her hands into his. “Because deep down I see that you want more. I see it every time you stare out the window,” he said.

“Why do I keep getting turned down?” she asked, looking up at him as if he had the answers.

“I wish I had the answers,” Vincent said, pulling her into his arms. “I do know that you can’t give up hope, Ivy,” he told her, tilting her head back so he could see her face.

Ivy closed her eyes pressing them shut tight, hoping that would hold back the tears. Every time she was around Vincent all she did was cry. Her bottom lip began to quiver as she slowly began to speak. “I…I don’t know if I have any hope anymore,” she confessed. “I think about not being able to pay my rent and…and,” letting her voice trail off.

Vincent was starting to understand a little bit of what Ivy was thinking now. “You can’t let paying your rent be your main focus on finding a job,” he said, brushing the tears that were slipping down anyway. “It should be a priority but not the main focus…if you do that then you will end up with a job you hate.”

Ivy thought about what Vincent said. The only job she ever wanted was to work at Style she never thought about working anywhere else. “Then I’m screwed,” she said, getting up from the sofa, walking to the window. “All I ever wanted was to work there. I never thought about not working there.”

“Then that’s what we need to focus on,” Vincent said, moving to stand behind Ivy. “What are you good at?” he asked, turning her so she was facing him.

“I…I don’t know,” Ivy admitted, fidgeting with her hands, lowering her eyes towards the floor. “Nothing,” she whispered, burying face into her hands. “I’m not good at anything,” she sighed in frustration.

“There must be something,” Vincent said. He knew she must have something she was good at.

Ivy stepped back from Vincent moving to stand behind the sofa, gripping the back of them. “I’m not good at anything,” Ivy whispered. Her shoulders slumping in defeat.

Vincent’s voice was gentle as he spoke, closing the distances between them, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulders. “I know you are good at something.”

“Yeah---getting my butt into trouble,” Ivy replied, wiping the tears with the back of her hand.

“I know that’s not true,” Vincent argued.

“Yes, it is, Vincent!” Ivy yelled in frustration, sidestepping his grip. “I’ve never been good at anything, and I never will be,” she said, staring back out the window.

Vincent knew there was no way getting through to her tonight. She was probably tired and sacred. She wasn’t thinking straight. “Why don’t we call it a night and discuss it in the morning,” he offered. “I’ll show you the guest room,” he said when she didn’t answer.

“Okay,” Ivy said softly.

She didn’t know why but she felt disappointed that she wasn’t sleeping in his room. Get a clue, Ivy. Why would a man like Vincent Barron want you in his bed? She asked herself following him down the hallway.

“Here it is,” Vincent said, standing in front of a door on the opposite end of the apartment far away from his bedroom.

Probably put me here…so I won’t hear Miss Perfectly Rich Elle sneaking in, she thought brushing past him, slamming the door in face not even bothering to say goodnight. She leaned against the door letting the tears fall at her own stupidity.