Punto de vista de la novela

Estoy muy nerviosa sentada en la oficina de la secretaria del Sr. Volkov. Y ya sé lo que estás pensando: vine para una entrevista. Pero no, vine a hacer una entrevista. Soy estudiante de periodismo en la Universidad Internacional de Barcelona, y no pienses que estoy entrevistando a un joven y encantador CEO, porque no es así. El Sr. Dante Volkov tiene 56 años y una familia encantadora.

“Señorita Hart, ya puede pasar,” dijo la secretaria.

La secretaria es muy bonita: delgada, con el cabello rubio liso, ojos azul océano, pestañas largas y un maquillaje impecable. Ojalá pudiera ser como ella, pero mi maquillaje siempre termina mal, por eso dejé de usarlo. Es el tipo de mujer que debería ser la protagonista de una novela romántica.

“Señorita Hart, ¿me está escuchando?”

“Sí, gracias,” dije, y luego me apresuré hacia la oficina.

Llamé a la puerta. “Adelante,” escuché desde dentro.

Tomé una respiración profunda y luego entré, intentando verme segura… creo. Cuando entré, mis ojos no pudieron evitar recorrer la oficina. Es enorme y preciosa. El sofá es marrón, elegante y profesional, y el escritorio donde normalmente se sentaba el Sr. Dante Volkov se veía imponente.

Luego mis ojos se movieron hacia el hombre detrás del escritorio y mi boca se abrió en asombro.

Tiene la piel oliva que complementa sus ojos gris acero, el cabello rubio oscuro y una mandíbula marcada. “Oh, Dios mío,” me dije a mí misma. Me acerqué un poco más, y fue entonces cuando noté sus hombros anchos y su complexión musculosa.

Sé que piensas que estoy mirando fijamente a un hombre de cincuenta y seis años, pero este parece tener poco más de veinte. “¿Me habré equivocado?” pensé.

Creo que notó la expresión confusa en mi rostro. “Mi padre está de permiso,” dijo, luego me indicó que tomara asiento, lo cual hice con un leve asentimiento.

“…Así que, hmm.” No pude decir las palabras que tenía en la garganta. Pensé que era guapo desde lejos, pero de cerca siento que se me humedecen los pantalones. No me culpes; es simplemente demasiado perfecto.

“Ejem,” me sacó de mis pensamientos indecentes. “Señorita Novel Hart, ¿verdad?” preguntó con una sonrisa fija en el rostro.

Ahora estoy segura de que estoy húmeda, porque su sonrisa me mandó al cielo y de regreso.

“Sí, de la Universidad Internacional de Barcelona,” intenté recomponerme.

“Bien, soy Alexei Volkov,” dijo.

Incluso su nombre es suficiente para hacerme correrme. “Novel Hart, compórtate,” me dije a mí misma.

“¿Serás tú quien haga la entrevista o debo volver otro día?” pregunté.

“Sí, yo haré la entrevista, pero,” hizo una pausa como si estuviera pensando qué decir, “no me hagas preguntas incómodas,” dijo finalmente con una sonrisa, y yo asentí.

“Vine con diez preguntas, pero haré cinco ya que tenemos poco tiempo.” Él asintió de acuerdo.

I turned on the recorder, then skimmed through the questions, but there weren't any I could ask. "Hmm, I prepared the questions for Mr. Volkov, so I can't find a question to ask you," I said with a frustrated expression.

"Okay, just make the ones you prepared."

“Thank you.” He nodded.

"What would you say about the growth of your business and how it feels to be the richest man in New Jersey?"

He paused for a moment before answering. “Running a business is no easy task. I’m grateful to my employees in every department for their hard work in helping the company grow. And being the richest man in New Jersey feels like I’m moving forward, and it shows that I have employees and customers with potential, because they’re the ones who do the work, and my customers are the best for continuing to buy from us.”

I was amused by his answer. Not only does he look like a Greek god, but he's also intelligent. I asked the other questions, and he gave very clever answers.

“Last question: Is there anyone to whom you dedicate your success?”

He thought for a moment. “If I were your father, I’d say ‘My wife,’ right?” he asked me, and I nodded. “That would sound fine, but since I’m not your father, I’d say ‘My employees.’”

“Okay…” I said. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Alexei Volkov,” I said with a smile as I stood up to turn off the camera.

He stood up too, and I noticed he was 6'4". "Oh my God, what are you trying to tell me?" I thought to myself.

I gathered my things and glanced at him one last time, and I saw he was watching me, so I smiled as I headed for the door. I stopped at his words: “Novel, what a beautiful name.” I was so flustered by what he said that I couldn't look at him, so I quickly left his office.

It's so sad. After today, I'll never see him again.

“How was it?” the attractive-looking secretary asked me, as if she were worried about me.

“It was good and it was nice,” I said, and then I waved goodbye.

I took a taxi home, and the whole way I couldn't stop thinking about him. "Alexei." What would it be like if he...? Would he be tender or rough? What would his kisses taste like?

When I arrived at my apartment, I paid the driver and then took the elevator to my floor. I was so exhausted. I took a quick shower and then lay down on my bed, ready to sleep, when an idea popped into my head. So I followed my thoughts. I Googled his name to find out more about him, but I didn't find anything, just a picture of him and his father.

“What a waste of time,” I said.

I was about to close my eyes when my phone rang. “Who could it be now?” I looked, and it was an unknown number, so I didn’t bother answering. I continued my journey to the

world of dreams, because tonight I have a date with him in my dreams.