“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.
I couldn’t connect the well groomed and preppy dressed young man to the local boy dressed like he was ready to do a rap and dance battle with his boys. He was two different people: the boy who needed to fit into his social status in his blue collar neighborhood, and the young man who needed to grow into the social climbing, rich man he was preparing himself to be.
I saw an undeniably sexy man, one may not have been my ideal match, but I couldn’t deny he stirred feelings in me which were buried with my pre-adolescent self. Admiring his body once more, I frowned when I saw he was swimming with a bandage on his wounded arm. Correcting myself for caring so much, I took a few deep breaths and turned to eat my breakfast.
My mind wouldn’t still itself, making comparisons and recalling many interactions from long ago. The boy was now a man; a very rich, powerful, attractive man who desired me enough to build this paradise for my sake. There was a hint of regret in not being his woman. I was in an unstable marriage, and was summarily thrown away. Brady had deep feelings for me, and all I’ve ever wanted was a man who would cherish me as his woman. I sensed he would have been a loving partner, had I given him the chance. However, I knew in my heart we weren’t meant to be. Matt stepped in at my most needful time, and he filled a void so fully. I closed myself off to anyone wanting to take his place.
After I finished breakfast, I went to the closet to see what I could wear. The assortment of clothes purchased for a planned murder was much too much. I looked at the tags. The prices were astronomical, even with my present salary I’d never planned to spend this kind of money for designer clothes. They were beautiful and appropriate for the climate. Every dress was in my size and appeared as if they would fit like a glove. There were dresses for evening; light, summer dresses; a couple of skirts and short sleeved blouses. There were enough clothes for more than the few days I’d agreed to stay. A few pairs of shoes to match the outfits had the same expensive tags. Aida was very detailed in her plan.
I groaned and tossed my head back at how ridiculous the notion of a psychopathic woman, hell bent on revenge, would go to these lengths to murder me. I dismissed any more thought about her, at least until I had to make my report with the police.
Once I showered and dressed, I made my way to the pool. The house looked even more spectacular during the brightness of the day. It was always bright and sunny, detailing the rich finishes from the floor to the ceiling. When I arrived at the pool, Brady was exiting. He wore very tight swim briefs. Drying himself, he grinned as I walked toward him. My face must have exuded my embarrassment because he grabbed a pair of board shorts and slipped them on.
“How did you sleep?” Brady asked.
“I would have slept better if I were in my bed in Boston.”
I feigned a grin.
“Shame. I slept like a lion.”
“Oh, I take it lions sleep well.”
“Definitely. They sleep most of the time, and sleep hardy, especially after a great meal,” he smiled.
How he slept well after the ordeal we experienced yesterday and the shot to his arm, I would never understand.
“What are you doing swimming when you have a deep gash on your arm?” I asked, and couldn’t help the tone of annoyance slip through my words.
“Worried about me?” He asked, smiling in surprised. My serious look made him continue, “I’m fine. I’ve had worse,” he said.
I didn’t want to know the story, forbidding myself from assessing his body for any healed wounds.
“Did he stitch you up?”
“Yeah. He tried his best to match it up, but I told him to do his best and finish.”
“Aww, you didn’t have anyone to hold your hand?”
“I have to work hard to make myself worthy of holding hands,” he said.
I rolled my eyes at his obvious flirtation.
“What time can I talk to the police?” I asked, changing the subject.
“I told them after lunch,” he determined. “I want to spend some time with you.” He grinned.
I didn’t know how to respond. My heart didn’t have any emotional reserves to be sociable. Every passing minut
e seemed to tick slowly, and I couldn’t wait to get back to Boston. Being Tuesday, I knew he would want to ensure we spent every waking moment together. Margarita awakening me early in the morning was a clear indication.
“So how long have you been swimming like that?” I asked to maintain innocent conversation.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re training for the Olympics.”
He chuckled.
“I swam in prep school and then in college.”
“Out West, right?”
“Yeah, in California,” he confirmed.
I could tell by the smooth skin. Either he waxed or was naturally hairless. Nevertheless, he was damn near perfect.
“Where do you swim back in Boston? The weather must make it impossible to swim outdoors year round.”
“I have an indoor pool in my Belmont home, though much smaller, but I come here at least once a month for a weekend or so. I’ve made it a point to schedule it into my life,” he stated.
“What about Brigit? Have you brought her here?” I asked.
The muscles of his jaw flexed.
“No. No one has been here,” he confirmed what Amaryllis had already reported.
“Why? Isn’t she your girlfriend?”
He waited a beat, taking a few deep breaths.
“This isn’t her home.”
“How long have you been dating her?”
“Does it matter?”
“More than you know,” I said.
“Off and on for a few years. Most exclusively in the last year.”
“While you were dating, Aida?”
“Aida wasn’t a long term relationship. By the same token, neither is Brigit.”
“What I don’t understand, Brady, is why you’re dating such a beautiful model-type like Brigit, but claim to be in love with a regular woman like me. We look so different, and we come from two different social castes,” I said, staring deep into his eyes, which gleamed brightly in the sun.
“That’s the point,” he said. My brows gathered, analyzing what he meant. Continuing, he revealed, “I date women who look the complete opposite of you. No brunettes, tall, and not as curvaceous . . .” he outlined. “And I know you aren’t a gold digger. You proved it early on.”
“Is it fair to string them along?” I said, looking at him angrily.
“You’re stringing these women along because you think you’re incapable of loving them. How do you think it makes them feel?”
“Every one of them accepts the arrangement.”
“Is there more than one?” I asked.
“Brigit gets to shop all day on a limitless account. She has access to my homes; a standing reservation to the best restaurants for countless social climbing friends; and first class plane rides and suites at four-star hotels around the world. You name it, she has it or I will provide it.”
“You claimed Matt never gives his heart to the women he’s with, but he has given it to me. And you’ve done the same exact thing with Aida and Brigit . . . maybe countless other women. How am I to believe you’ll give me more than you’ve given them? And I’m not talking about all the meaningless shit you listed. If I really cared about that stuff, I would have demanded it from Matt from the beginning. I just want someone to love and respect me. And it comes from actions.”
“Well, if it’s action you want, then give me time to show you. Time will help you see how I truly feel. You gave Matt less time, but I’ve known you longer.”
“You’re wrong. I’ve only known you for two years of my life as a little girl, and less than four months of my adult life.”
“Do you want to spend the rest of our time arguing, making me continue pursuing you when we return to Boston, or are you willing to be open to letting me show you what I’m really about? How the boy changed into a man?”
The intensity in his gaze made me look away. It was like fire burning through me; burning away all my defenses so I could give him a chance.
Not willing to let it go, “If I choose you, she’s gone right?”
“Of course.”
“And what if she comes after me, much like Aida. What if she’s not willing to lose the man who keeps her in the lap of luxury? Are you going to keep her in the life she’s accustomed? Make a big pay-off to keep her happy? Or are you going to cut her off, cold turkey? I suspect with the amount of drinking she does, she won’t survive losing you.” I asked earnestly.
His silence evoked so much more than any words he could formulate.
“Can you guarantee my safety if she losses her shit and goes after me like Aida?” I asked.
“I will always ensure your safety and would never allow anything or anyone to put you in harm’s way. I will make sure of it,” he said pointedly, coming closer; the heat from his body singed me like a flame. I recoiled, incapable of believing him, preferring to keep him at an arm’s distance.
“Aida spoke about some of your preferences in bed.”
He grimaced, turning away, hands on his waist, readying himself for a verbal spat with me.
“This isn’t the time or the place to discuss such things. We’ve already agreed there will be no sexual connection between us, at least not in these few days. I’m not a savage, Perla. All the women I’ve ever been with have consented and enjoyed what I do with them and for them,” he said suggestively. “I would never make you do what you don’t want to do,” he claimed.
“And what if I’m not enough? What if we’re not sexually compatible, but you continue to love me as you say you do, would you keep someone on the side, who would be willing to let her limits be pushed? Brigit, perhaps?” I asked. He shook his head.
“Do we need to discuss this now? We can discuss when you decide to be with me.”
“No. Anytime is a perfect time to discuss these things, especially when I truly need to understand your feelings for me. I’m not the same little girl. I’m a woman with very specific needs. One who has been hurt and doesn’t trust very easily.”
“But somehow you managed to open up to Matt and allow him in your life.”
“Yeah, and then I learned of his betrayal.”
“Then why did you take him back, but you won’t give me a chance?”
“I can’t give you a chance because I’ve given him a chance. I’ve fallen deeply in love with him.”
“You fell in love with a façade. It was all an illusion. You were trapped in his wall of mirrors. And when the mirror cracked you were able to see what he was truly about,” he eloquently detailed, and I couldn’t deny the truth.
“And if you present your magic tricks and I don’t fall under your spell, choosing him again, can we go back to being friends like when I was twelve?”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“And I don’t think I can see you as anything more as my friend and caretaker from when I was a child.”
“Why is it Matt is the only one who can give you more?”
“Because he makes me feel like the woman I never felt I was. He fulfilled a need. And I don’t think I have any room for you, and you can’t replace him in my heart because he’s nestled deep.”
He turned away, clearly upset with my arguments.
“But there is a chance. If you don’t ‘think’ you have room for me, then there is doubt. There is a possibility. All I need is an open mind,’ he stated. “Does this have to be resolved at this very second? After all of these years apart, can’t I just enjoy having you with me without a mad woman directing our movements and away from Matt’s chains?” He asked, maintaining a calm voice; inherent in a smart, controlled businessman.
“If we don’t argue, what are we supposed to do with ourselves,” I said jokingly, and he smiled.
“I need to take a shower, and I want to give you a tour of the estate and the beach,” he said.
“I’m going to stay here and take in some sun,” I stated.
He nodded and took off into the house, leaving me to pace around. It was so tranquil and beautiful
, and in the serenity lay a frenetic energy. I was agitated. My need to just hear Matt’s voice, letting him know I would return to him, occupied my mind.
My reverie was interrupted by Amaryllis, “Doña, I brought you a beverage. It gets hot out here at this time of day. She walked to the table, setting the glass on the table top. She opened the umbrella, and pulled out a seat for me to sit. I smiled at her despite the title she’d given me.
“Please call me Perla. I’m not the lady of the house and prefer not to be called as such.”
She nodded.
“I can call you Perla when it is just the two of us, but Don Shay would prefer we keep using the appropriate titles in his home, and I have to respect his wishes.”
“I understand,” I said with a firm smile.
Amaryllis excused herself and returned to the house. I sat down to enjoy my drink when I saw a couple of men walking the beach in the distance. It appeared they were cleaning the beach. When they approached close, I yelled out ‘hello’.
“Doña, I’m sorry to disturb your quiet,” the elder man said.
He looked familiar. His gentle appearance came from all the Dominican men, who had similar skin tone and facial features, I’d met in my life. He had a weathered face, tanned by spending lots of time out in the sun.
“I’m Manuel Sr., he said. “This is Oscar.” His companion was a younger man, but older than me. They refused to shake my hand because of the debris they’d been picking up along the beach. “My wife is Margarita. If you need anything fixed, I am at your service,” he said with a slight bow. “We will be on our way, and return to our work.” I smiled at them and bid them a good day.
I couldn’t understand how Brady liked this quiet. The beach was vacant, which in my opinion was contrary to the purpose of beach going. I enjoyed the liveliness of the beach goers; playing games, sun bathing, walking and talking as they scoured for beautiful people of the opposite sex; listening to several different songs coming from all angles of a very sandy towel. I stood up from my chair and walked toward the surf. I took off my sandals and left them on the dry sand, walking toward the water to dip my feet. The water was very warm. Lifting the skirt of my dress, I waded further in, tucking my toes in the sand. I had a momentary delusion, thinking I could just swim to Matt. The nonsensical thoughts were overwhelming. All I could think about was my misfortune when I had a rich life with Matt ahead of me.
Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 Page 9
