Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3

by Rey, Rosemary

I felt reassured. My body was more at ease with Patricio’s insight and acceptance of me. The nurse entered to check on him, and I went over to Perla. I gave her a kiss on the lips, startling her. I couldn’t resist, not thinking she would be on alert as she slept in an unfamiliar place.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I came to check on you two. The transport ambulance will be coming in an hour to take him to the hospital where he will meet Doctor Milner. I have to take one of his surgeries, and I will be in and out of his operating room to check on progress. He’ll be in good hands. Do you want a ride home, so you can change and go to the new hospital?”

  “No. I can’t leave him alone. My sisters can’t come until later. He’s my responsibility,” she said almost childlike.

  For an instant, a vision of teenaged Perla caring for her mother entered my mind, and I felt sad for her.

  “Okay. I’ll have Josh pick you up and drive you to the hospital. You can’t travel with the EMTs, okay?” She nodded. I gave her a light kiss, and made to leave.

  “Matt,” she said weakly. “Thank you,” she said. The light in her eyes were dimmed. I could tell she feared the worst, and she most certainly was taking on full responsibility as she had many years ago. I just wanted to save her from all her worries, but I could only contribute my part.

  “I love you,” I stated, giving her my sincerest face. And when she said she loved me too, I left her, feeling more at ease.

  PERLA

  It was a long night and long morning. My time with my father in the hospital was emotionally grueling. I had all these ‘what-if’ scenarios invade my mind. However, we also spent a lot of time sharing with each other. I told him about my man troubles, my career goals, and my family goals. He was delighted with my pregnancy news. I asked him to keep it to himself until I was ready to share, even though Esmeralda already knew.

  The surgery was still going on when my sisters arrived. When Matt told me my father was fine and in post-surgery recovery, I felt like the weight lifted off my shoulders. I had to take hold of the reigns and force a decision no one in my family wanted to make. Matt was such a big help and I felt completely indebted to him. I sank in my chair, feeling a bit lightheaded.

  Once Papi was settled, I told my sisters I needed to leave, but would return to spend the night. They were grateful, and told me to take my time. I figured it was the relief of him doing well in the recovery room, causing them to be kind to me. Josh took me home, and I prepared to go to the office late in the day.

  “Perla. How is your father?” Gill asked.

  “Better than yesterday. Thank you. What do we have?” I asked.

  “I put all the things which need attention in order of priority on your desk. Attorney Zipperer called you and left a message.”

  “Thank you. I’ll go call him.”

  After I shut my door, I ran to call Zipper. “Hi. Do you have news?”

  “Yeah. The paperwork is all set. The report is back from the investigators. We cited our allegations on the charges and package. We set up an emergency meeting for Friday. I’ve already had it scheduled it with your assistant. All of us are required to be there; the five men and you. Everyone’s accepted. I’ve made copies of the reports to hand out at the meeting. The attorneys are prepped to meet afterwards, if all goes our way.

  “Did you already speak to Matt?”

  “Yeah. I called him and sent a formal notice. His secretary already responded and marked it on the calendar.”

  “Okay,” I breathed out, hoping all went our way. “This is all happening so fast and not fast enough, Zipper.”

  “It’s going to be really difficult, but you need to summon the courage. I have to go, but Perla, I’m sure it will all work out as planned.”

  “Let’s hope so, Zipper.” We hung up.

  I prayed, calling for emotional strength for Friday’s meeting.

  *****

  Nearing the end of the business day, Caroline’s call on the intercom startled me as I reviewed some designs for the waterpark at the Light Tower.

  “Perla, there’s a messenger here for you. She requires your personal signature. I can’t sign on your behalf. Can you come out here?” She asked. My eyebrows wrinkled in wonder.

  I signed and retrieved my envelope, and noted the name of a new law firm. The only other times I received documents from law firms were from the men I was involved with who were either concluding our relationship or attempting to maintain it. I wondered which choice I was being given this time.

  “Everything okay, Perla.” Caroline asked. I gave her a tight lipped smile and quick nod, returning to my office to read the contents.

  I felt queasy, unable to chalk it up to morning sickness, as I opened the envelope. I slid the neatly bound, blue backed legal document and proceeded to read the cover letter. The sense of déjà vu was strong as I read through the contents, the intent of the forms, and who made an offer, but this time threatening.

  After an agitated read through, I threw the papers on my desk. I took a moment to process what I’d read. I got up, grabbed the papers, and walked out of my office toward the copy room. I scanned the documents and sent the copy to my private email. Once received, I sent a copy to Turner’s email. I texted him, explaining we were up to the same painful tricks.

  Josh answered my call and got the car ready. Rage coursed through my body, making me lightheaded. I tried to regulate my breathing, preventing the possibility of passing out. The guard told me Josh was in the car waiting for me. We made our way to Matt’s medical office. Over and over, I reviewed the papers, trying to understand his demands and expectations from me. I was hurt by our inability to communicate; relying on third parties to explain how we felt; trying to hold onto each other through legal means; but this was the opposite of working it out. The documents were cleverly crafted. It was obvious his legal representative convinced him of cutting a deal and bailing out on Pentagon. It was a means to get rid of me; to end us.

  *****

  I arrived at his office with what could be classified as raging-bitch-face. When Annie saw me through the large window, she opened the door, letting me into the examination section of Matt’s medical practice. The last time I entered the area was during my initial visit, sparking our first encounter. I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the very last time I entered to talk to Matt.

  I tried to hide my anger and frustration, but it cracked through the duplicitous smile I gave Annie. “Hi Annie,” I stated through gritted teeth. “Is Dr. Keene here?” I made sure to be professional while in his medical office setting despite wanting to savagely rip apart the entire space while screaming out for him to face me.

  “He’s in with a patient and then he has to go to the hospital. He won’t have much time with you, Perla.”

  “Tell him I’m waiting in his office, and will only need a couple of minutes. Thank you,” I informed. She walked me to his office and I entered, closing the door behind me.

  I gripped the legal papers, crinkling the edges. The time in his office, re-reading the papers one last time to formulate a response, helped me to calm down and put his offer into perspective. I remained livid because after all we’d been through, I only wanted my independence and self-identity. I needed to have an opportunity to take care of myself. And if need be, I wanted to have all the means necessary to care for our baby on my own. It was a ridiculous notion to think Matt wouldn’t financially support the baby, but I was adamant I have the means to also provide for myself.

  After much time, Matt entered the room. As always, my heart beat profusely at the first sight of him. I wondered if there would ever come a time when I no longer felt the palpitations and ache for him as I did every moment.

  “Perla, what can I do for you?” He asked in his impassive tone. I smirked at the formality. He walked and stood behind his desk, exerting his power over me by looming large his six foot three inch frame.

  “I got your generous offer,” I said condescendingly.

  “Oh? Well, I
hope you accept, and soon,” He responded brusquely.

  “Well, you haven’t given me enough time to really think about it. I mean, I have forty-eight hours to think about accepting thirty-million dollars for the return of your stock?”

  “Well, you can live quite comfortably with my offer. I’m sure if you think it isn’t enough, you can ask your bulldog attorney to counter,” he stated coldly. The animosity in his voice made me swallow the lump in my throat.

  “It’s more than enough, especially when I’ll be unemployed. I’d need money to support myself when, by accepting your offer, I can’t work at Pentagon anymore, and you have instituted a ‘no compete’ clause. You’re taking away my right to work in the majority of places in Boston. Are you deliberately trying to ruin me?” Not curbing the accusation veiled as an inquiry. Always the businessman and stoic doctor, Matt listened blankly and paused to think of a response.

  “I told you, I don’t want you anywhere near Pentagon.”

  “Even if it means the end of us, Matt?” I asked.

  His brow furrowed, and his lips pursed.

  “Why would it mean the end of us?” He asked. I could see his controlled temper warring within him.

  “Because I told you it isn’t about the money. I wanted a head start in my career. Pentagon is preparing me as an upper level executive. If you really wanted the stocks back, why not just make the financial offer, but not demand I stay away from Pentagon or anything remotely connected to it? I’m trying to protect you. I’m still trying to protect . . .”

  “How are you trying to protect me by keeping my stocks and not filing our marriage certificate? It’s obvious we want to be together. At least I think so by the amount of fucking we do,” he retorted. I scowled at his crudeness, but was annoyingly titillated by the vulgarity. “Tell me,” he demanded with furious eyes and roaring voice. He leaned in, setting his knuckles on the desk as he looked down on me.

  “Matt, please reconsider what you’re asking of me,” I asked calmly, making myself less antagonistic with my reclined posture and relaxed arms.

  “I’ve thought long and hard. This is how it has to be. It’s my final offer to you, and I’m walking away,” he concluded.

  “Did you think I would be okay with losing my position? That I’d be satisfied with returning to Duration?”

  “You wouldn’t have to go back there with twenty five million dollars at your disposal.”

  “If you think I’ve been working hard to just stay home twiddling my thumbs with money I haven’t earned then you don’t know me well enough to be married to me,” I glared at him.

  “That offer is off the table,” He retorted.

  A stabbing pain hit me straight in the heart, but the adrenalin coursing through me kept me laser focused to fight on.

  I choked down his hurtful comment, “Be that as it may, I intend to work. I don’t have enough professional experience to work anywhere else but Pentagon. I can’t go to a new place and tell them I was the Director of Finance at Parisi for four years when I left under suspicious circumstances. Liberty and Duration were the only places which ignored my issue. And they were too minor of roles to be an executive again. I would have to go back to a position significantly lower than I have now. But of course, you wouldn’t understand.” I said with frustration percolating over the surface.

  “You’ll get a recommendation.” He said cavalierly.

  “Oh, for a job I’ve held less than two months, how gracious of you,” I cried, rolling my eyes. I shook my head, restraining the tears of exasperation.

  “You could start your own business . . . do charity work. There are many options for rich women.” He informed. Therein lay the problem. He was thinking as a rich man, and I had no idea how to be a rich woman.

  “What you fail to understand is that I’m not like your socialite ex-wife. I don’t spend my days shopping; lunching with the girls; Tuesdays for social action meetings; Saturdays for charity balls. That is not my life. I work,” I informed. I knew throwing the ex-wife’s lifestyle was a low blow, but I couldn’t help but continuously defend myself even if it meant striking where it hurt most.

  “I have contacts; a network of people to help you find a position. They can help you find something else, somewhere else,” he emphasized.

  “I like my job. I created my role because I’m best suited to oversee Pentagram. I promised Alice I would see this project through. I love the people I work with. For as much as I didn’t want most of them to be a part of my life, I accepted what happened between all of us. I’m contributing substantially, but obviously you’re too detached from the corporation to comprehend. You’re so blinded by jealousy and competition with Brady to notice I own this role,” I said as I stood up, making eye-to-eye contact as he leaned in further over his desk.

  “I don’t want your money. I won’t give you back those shares while you’re trying to destroy the very company you created and while I’m trying to continue to grow it for . . . you . . . our baby . . . us,” I said, hoping he would be sympathetic and change his mind.

  “I think my affiliation with the company has run its course. It’s time for me to move on. Pentagon was great when I was in my twenties and needed the funds for all I have here, but it’s over. I know how to make money without it. I can’t sell the shares unless it’s to the others in equal parts. There’s no way Brady is going to get five percent of my shares. I’m not doing that, ever. Dissolving it is best. I have a practice to focus on. You don’t need to be involved with my fight with them. It would be easier if you take the money and move on from Pentagon.”

  “What if there’s another way?” I asked.

  “What?” He said with a smirk and a shrug. “What other way is there?” Something in his response told me he’d thought through all the ways and came up with offering me money as the only possibility of regaining control.

  “So if I don’t accept within forty-eight hours, you’ll sue me? You’ll actually penalize me for working at Pentagon? I can’t believe you’ll seek an injunction to stop me from voting on the shares. The kicker is you taking me to court to return the shares. And if I don’t do so, you’ll seek financial damages? Conveniently taking my entire salary while I hold onto your shares, which you willingly offered to me? I have no rights to sell them off to anyone else, so how am I supposed to live? Should I look for a second and third job while working as an executive just like my other husband left me to do?” I snapped venomously.

  “It’s your choice,” he stated impassively as he always did when he didn’t want to show how he really felt about the matter. I’d seen that look so many times as a means of avoiding detection of his thoughts and emotions, leaving him impossible to read.

  “Not much of a choice, Matt,” I shook my head in resignation that we could be over. “So this is it? This is how everything ends?” I couldn’t believe we were at an impasse.

  “Take the money, Perla,” he warned. I looked up to the ceiling, seeking an answer from somewhere above.

  I sighed, “As you know, per the invitation you’ve already received, we have a shareholder meeting on Friday at three. I suggest you attend. I’ll give you my answer afterwards.”

  “I’ll be there,” he stated assuredly. I turned to walk away. “Perla!” He called. I turned to look at him. There was love in his exasperated look, just beneath the anger and hurt. “This isn’t personal. It’s a preemptive strike. The Board calls an emergency meeting, I need to protect myself.” He concluded.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Matt. This is completely personal. I’m already protecting you. You’re better than this,” I waved the papers in front of him. “I’d hoped you would give me a chance to fix this my way. To work through this, but as always, you want to control every single aspect of our relationship—from withholding the truth, then waving your worth to keep me, now waving your money to shut me out,” I shook my head and shut my eyes, turning toward the door.

  I heard him run from behind his desk. Within
seconds I held me within his grip. His arms pulled me close to his tall, muscular body. The first breath I felt on my nape made me quiver. I sensed he was trying to absorb the last moments of our physical connection. And I knew we were far from over. Regardless of the animosity, he was the man I adored. From the tight hold, I knew he cherished me too. I should never have questioned his love for me.

  Matt buried his face in my hair, inhaling my scent. I felt his arousal at my buttocks. His arms pulled apart, going in opposite directions, up and down my body. An involuntary reaction to the stimulus caused me to rock into him. We couldn’t spend two minutes in a room without bringing ourselves into each other’s arms, seeking the stimulation and non-verbal displays of affection only we could give one another. He turned me around. His hands wandered toward my breasts, squeezing them together and clutching them hard. His thumbs smoothed over my nipples and I arched back as I felt his breath closing into my throat. I held onto his broad arms as he manhandled me. I gasped at how rough he gripped me. Whether rough and needy or gentle and loving, I couldn’t get enough of him. I panted as he bit and sucked on my neck. I tried to pull away, preventing a visible mark, but he held me so close and so hard. His fingers were splayed on my back, pressing deeply into my flesh. I knew I would have impressions of his fingers indented on my body again.

  “I can take care of you for the rest of your life. All you have to do is be my wife. And you know what you need to do to make that happen. I can make you so happy, babe. You just have to do the right thing,” he said breathily. His scent and words were intoxicating, inebriating me toward agreement.

  He kissed me, our tongues melded into one. I loved tasting him, wishing he would take me right there and then. His hands went down to my buttocks, pulling me aggressively to his crotch. My clit took the impact from his hardened cock. My feet left my heels as I tiptoed upwards onto his body. As he pulled me up, I let go of the papers, dropping them to the floor in a flutter, just like I felt in my belly. My legs parted instinctively as he hooked his hands around my thighs, picking me up. I pulled away to look into his eyes then looked downward at his lips. Desire was all I could see from his hooded lids to his quivering lips. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him, but I believed it a means of control; forcing me to agree to his offer. Without fail, my body responded first and my brain was slow to stop myself from giving into his manipulation.