Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 (9 page)

Brady looked me square in the eyes, “If you have no doubts about your marriage to Matt at the end of the week, you will get to go home with your license delivered to your hand for you to file.” He affirmed.

I knew he was a very successful businessman who would be savvy enough to twist the words I needed to hear.

“Seamus Michael Clay, will I go home at the end of the week with my license?”

His eyes narrowed at the use of his birth name; a name I’d heard Maggie call out often and usually with intense anger.

“Yes. I’ll take you home at the end of the week and I will give you the marriage license for you to file.” He agreed.

“I need to be home by Friday.”

“Why Friday?”

“I have obligations on the weekend.”

“Like what?”

“I volunteer with a dance troop.”

“Oh, isn’t it on Sunday?”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve made sure to know a lot about you, Perla.”

“Can we go back to Boston on Friday?” I gently pled, ignoring his unnerving statement.

He took a while to answer, but then said, “Yeah. I’ll make sure to get the pilot to return Friday afternoon.” I nodded grimly.

Concerns swirled through my mind of how I would survive several days without seeing Matt. Just when we had reconciled, we were pulled apart again. The ominous feeling we would always be ripped apart waved over me, making me emotional.

“What will happen to you and the rest of the Pentagon men when I choose Matt?”

“If you choose Matt, everything will be business as usual.”

I looked at him skeptically.

“You don’t believe me?”

“No.” I pulled my hair in front of my shoulders. “I saw how you looked at us when we came into the meeting together and I saw how you looked at us when you left the room with Brigit. You were hurt and angry we chose to be together despite everything. I don’t believe you will allow us to be a couple.”

“I admit I was hurt and jealous because I want you with me, but I also care about him. He’s like a brother. We’re like clones created in the same petri dish. Both of us are tenacious and driven. All of our efforts have been for the greater good of the company. We employ many people, changing lives with our businesses and charitable efforts. And for one brief moment in time, seeing you with him and hearing you’re married made me realize all we built together . . . the five of us . . . was over.” Brady retorted.

I gasped, sensing the truth.

“I never want that to happen.” I cried. “My time at the company has been short, but I know the impact you’ve all made and what you’re doing nationwide is incredible. I’d rather be with neither of you.” I went to stand up to head back to the house.

“Perla.” He grabbed my wrist. “I can truly move on, if you want to be with him. Give me a chance to prove myself to you; like I should have from the start.”

There would be no way Brady could win me over. I was committed to Matt. I took my marriage vows seriously. We married legally and of sound mind, and the license Brady held was only a piece of paper. I only needed it to transfer the shares back to Matt and relieve myself of the immeasurable power. I didn’t want the shares. I wanted Matt.

At the end of the week, I could go home and get a replacement marriage license, if necessary. What I couldn’t get, if I didn’t comply, was my freedom from Brady’s expectation and hopes. If the Playa de Perlas estate was any indication of his desire for me, Brady had fallen hard for the woman he built me up to be. I hoped to show him I was no longer the little girl he wanted to protect, making him realize the woman he coveted was one he created in his own mind.

“I have to call Matt. I need to let him know I’m safe.”

“No!”

He frightened me with his forceful response.

“He will make every move to find you and take you away from me. I’ll send word that you’re fine,” he offered.

“What makes you think he won’t rotate the Earth off its axis to find me with just a ‘word’? He needs to hear my voice.”

“Non-negotiable term.”

“I’m not a business transaction, Brady. I’m a person with feelings and who is worried about her husband’s emotional state.”

He groaned at my use of ‘husband’, throwing his head back and looking away. He returned to face me.

“This is a phone free zone. There’s no ability to call in or out. We are incommunicado.”

“That is fuckin’ absurd!”

“Does Matt like hearing your dirty mouth?”

“Yeah. In and out of bed.”

We eyed each other. Both of us panted from the argument and the stifling heat of the night.

“Seriously. I’ve wired the region for the residents, to communicate with one another and for emergency response, but there are no phones.”

“If you expect me to believe you could completely make this a telephone free zone, I have a bridge to sell you.”

“This is supposed to be an escape from a very chaotic personal and professional life. I don’t want any disturbances or distractions from my unplugged time. I come here to relax and not continuously handle work. No one knew this place existed. How Aida found out and invaded my sanctuary is unclear, but the only person who matters is here now, and I don’t want anything to disrupt our time together.”

His voice had lowered and slowed as he stared into my eyes.

“Surely you can find me a cell phone? I have a phone in my purse, which the police might have.”

“No,” he shrugged.

“Well, then I’m not staying.”

“You have no choice. You’re staying.”

“So, now I’m being held captive. Now, there’s no chance for you to convince me of anything, Brady. I don’t feel safe here with you.”

I turned to walk back to the house. Brady tugged my wrist, pulling me to return to stand before him. He loosened his grip, holding me still.

“In a few days, you go back home to your life and career in Boston. If you choose Matt, no repercussions for him or Pentagon,” he said. “But we do this my way, or I will not make it easier for either of you when we return,” he finalized.

I trembled slightly, feeling imprisoned by the man who saved me from certain death. Brady was capitalizing on an opportunity given to him by Aida and her goons, and I realized neither of us would ever have closure if I didn’t comply with his demands, no matter how deplorable.

“If I choose neither of you, I want to live my life in peace without either of you interfering.” I said.

“And if you choose me?” He asked hopefully.

I hadn’t entertained the thought.

“I can’t speak for Matt and how he’ll react. I guess if I do choose you, then there will be a lengthy list of demands on how we’ll proceed. I assure you, Brady, I won’t make it easy for you. You have a lot to make up to me. I’m not sure you’re up to the task.”

“Obviously Perla, you have yet to fathom how far I’d go for you.”

I shivered as his words pierced through me like a lightning rod. I turned and pulled my arm out of his grip, walking into the house to seek refuge in the compound he built for me.

*****

At the top of the stairs, I was greeted by the young maid and a man. “Is Don Shay, behind you? The doctor is here to look both of you over,” she said in Spanish.

“I’m sure he’s on his way back in. I’m okay, I don’t need any attention.”

“Are you sure Doña? Don Shay was very clear he wanted to make sure you are well,” he queried, eyeing me.

“I assure you, I’m fine,” I repeated. “Which room am I staying in?” I directed at her in her native tongue.

Behind me, Brady responded in perfectly accented Spanish, “Did the investigators finish in the suite in the west wing, Amaryllis?”

She nodded, looking downward as she rung her hands. I turned to look at him. He gave me a thin lipped smile.

“It is ready for her, Don Shay,”

“Please take her there. I’ll be with the doctor,” he ordered.

I was astonished by his fluency and comfort with speaking Spanish. While I knew Matt was fluent in Spanish, we rarely spoke to each other in the language. To know Brady built a home in the Spanish speaking country and spoke the local language was impressive and endearing. I smiled as I turned to follow Amaryllis.

When we entered the room, she stated, “I’ve put all your things in the closet and drawers,” she motioned to the dresser. “I left out a nightgown for tonight.”

“Did you see my purse?”

“A purse? No, only the suitcase was already here,” She said.

I hoped I could retrieve my phone from the tote bag. If it remained in the SUV, it was surely seized by the police. After all this time, the battery would be down and I doubted if I could find a charger. I sat on the bed, hopeless. I thought my nightmare was over and it became obvious the worst was yet to come. Only when I return home would I know the chaos my time with Brady would bring.

*****

After a restless night in which I tossed and turned, paced about the large room, stared off at the dark horizon with scenes of the events flashing in my mind, and cried until I exhausted myself, had I finally fallen asleep. I rested a pillow beside my body, simulating Matt next to me. I had intended to sleep until my body naturally awoke me, but the noise of clanking and wheels squeaking on the smooth tile floor woke me up.

“Good morning,” a gentle female voice said in Spanish.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes to see a sweet, older woman smiling softly at me. She had jet black hair swept up into a chignon. Her skin was the color of chocolate to match her big brown eyes.

“I brought you some breakfast,” she said as I adjusted my vision to the contents on the tray. “I’m Margarita. I’m Don Shay’s house manager. And you are his Perla.” I inhaled deeply, summoning patience because I had no reserves.

“It seems so.” I forced a smile. “How are you? I’ve been worried about you since yesterday. I’m sorry you were involved in this mess,” I extended.

“It is not your fault those people did what they did. We’re all lucky they didn’t succeed in their plans. Don Shay told me everything this morning.”

“Where is he?”

“Swimming, of course,” she said, as if it were the most natural explanation of a man I knew little about. “He told me to bring you some breakfast. He would like you to join him outside when you’re ready,” she informed. “It’s so wonderful to have his woman finally home. We’ve been wondering if you were even real, but here you are, as beautiful as you look in your pictures. But of course, a grown woman,” she gushed.

I began to think Brady had brainwashed everyone else into believing we could be together.

“How long have you worked with him?” I asked, incapable of calling him Don Shay. She set the cart by the small table and chairs near the window, and began setting the plate and silverware on the table. When I saw the carafe of coffee, I stood up off the bed and walked toward the table.

“Almost two years since the completion of the house. I moved back home from Boston after I couldn’t take the cold. I left my sons behind with their families. I told them they could visit me. One of them learned about this job and got me an interview. I live here year round with my husband. My husband fixes things around the estate. It is a great arrangement. Would you need anything else?” She said as she drew open the heavy, blackout curtains.

“No, thank you. Everything looks great,” I commented with a smile.

She smiled in return and walked away, closing the door behind her.

Once I opened the doors to the balcony, the hot, humid air washed over me. The smell of the sea was intoxicating; fresh and crisp. I walked outside to look at the ocean. Within my sight line, he swam laps in the Olympic length pool to the left. His back, peppered with a few tattoos, was wide and strong as he glided smoothly from one end to the other. The body art fell in line with his tenacious personality, but a severe contrast to his buttoned up businessman visage. I was surprised his usually clean cut facade contained such a ruffian shell. When fully dressed, there was an underpinning of grit, but seeing him near nude and inked, he was definitely rough and manly. There was little doubt single-me would at the very least have accepted a one-night-stand with Brady. I bit my lip, stopping myself from fantasizing further. He stopped swimming laps at one point and floated face up, goggles covering his eyes. It was obvious he loved the water, enjoying the sun as he drifted backwards. His chiseled torso and arms were decorated with more designs which curved around his fit body. From what I could see of his legs, they remained free from art, but were no less striking.

Comparing Brady to the Shay I knew at twelve, he was taller, muscular, and rugged in feature. Brady looked at me with a bit of indifference and lust, and in hindsight, disgust because I was with his friend. Shay always had a kind face and would share his smile liberally. Back then he could be called a pretty boy: soft facial features, fair skinned, and blonde. He wore the clothes of the times: baggy jeans, sports jerseys, clean sneakers, and always a baseball cap of one of the many Boston sports teams. Analyzing my mental image of Shay to the image of the Pentagon boys while in boarding school, I couldn’t believe I didn’t remember him right away.