Bound: The Pentagon Group, Book 3 (22 page)

I giggled when I considered sending a tip to Magnus for buying this chaise. I never considered the curved lounger to have an erotic purpose. Matt rose up and looked deeply into my eyes, but he didn’t ask about my giggle and I didn’t tell, feeling sheepish.

Matt stood up, pulling his flaccid penis from within me. I watched as he walked to the bathroom. Moments passed before he returned to my side where I stood by the bed. He picked up his clothing from the floor and began dressing. My heart sank, and a lump formed in my throat.

“Why don’t you stay here? It’s too late to drive home,” I offered.

“We have a lot to figure out, Perla,” he sighed.

“We can talk about it in the morning . . . over breakfast,” I said hopeful. He never wavered from dressing.

“No,” he said definitively. “You want to talk, file the marriage license before it expires, and then I’ll know you’re serious about us.”

“Matt . . .”

“Until such time, we can’t be together. Not in the way you want,” He stared at me. Light from the city night spotlighted his serious face. “If you spend any time with Brady, I will come to you like tonight and fuck some sense into you, but it won’t mean as much each time you go against me . . . against us,” he expressed.

I gasped before continuing, “Matt, we need to talk further. You can’t mean what you’re saying. Please . . .”
I
s
aid.

“I’ve gotta go,” he said. His voice registered in a deep, commanding tone. I stood as if stricken by a spell, watching him walk away from us. His ultimatum was clear. File the marriage license and not see Brady. And the conundrum lay on how I could manage both tasks when the very person I couldn’t see held the license I needed to seal our future.

When I heard the turning of the secondary locks, I felt like Matt had locked me in a tower for safe keeping; away from the big, bad world which dared to take away his prized possession. I knew sleep would elude me for I had to think myself out of this dilemma. The lack of ideas caused me to run to the bathroom and vomit my fears, and left me with a major headache and pain in my chest.

Mixed emotions swirled through me when I walked out the door. The adrenalin controlled me after claiming her again. She needed to know I was her man. Brady could never give her what I could give. I gave her passion and love. I felt ill. I didn’t want to treat her that way . . . like a ‘whore’. To take Perla in such a manner made me feel empty and split in two. The empty feeling after sex is how I knew I wasn’t in love with Sonia. From the first time I fucked her, I kept seeking fulfillment from other women. When no one else filled the void, I married Sonia because it was time to start a family. But I knew something critical was missing; true love. Sonia left me wanting more. Not wanting of more sex; wanting of more love. The depraved things I’d do to her without fulfillment confirmed she wasn’t the one. Yet, doing those very things to Perla was liberating. She let me do the things I enjoyed most without ever once breaking. It cemented what I knew about her—she was the only one.

Down to the safe word she chose, Perla was a dichotomy of submission and rebellion. I pushed her as much as I could without destroying her. And I wanted to see how much further I could go. Nonetheless, she took control, taking me on the chaise. It was the most intense experience, but her giggle broke the illusion. We couldn’t be a happy, married couple.

Usually, after our passionate love making, Perla made me feel fulfilled and whole. Perla gave it to me a million fold. It took every bit of mental strength I had to pull myself away from her touch. Just a swipe of her finger on my skin was enough to ignite my desire and wreak havoc with my willpower. She looked hurt, but the events of the week and our encounter at the airport shattered me. Once they had exited the airplane, as if they were coming from their honeymoon, my future plans fell apart. She couldn’t say anything to convince me to forget the image of union between Perla and Brady.

The ultimatum was the only thing I could make to keep some control. Surely, she and I could get remarried, but I needed to test her allegiance to me. Would she do the right thing and file our current license? I knew how impossible I made the request, especially not seeing Brady, but she was a clever woman, who was always up for a challenge. And if she dare go against me, I would have fun disciplining her.

I woke up in the morning to find myself in an empty bed. I knew he’d left, but a vivid dream made me believe he had remained, sleeping beside me. Through narrowed eyes I tried to focus and find any trace of Matt in bed, knowing it was a figment of my overly eager imagination. I halted my breath to hear if he was in the apartment. No sounds, but the muffled noises of the city awakening to the sleepy Saturday morning. As I tried to exit the enclosure of my little safe haven, I felt every muscle and joint. My bones creaked, and I was extremely thirsty. I touched my lips and they felt cracked and painful. The tears I shed to help exhaust me to sleep left me dehydrated. When I finally stood up from the bed, I walked slowly to the bathroom. My legs quivered with each step as I made my way to the darkened lavatory. Without turning on the light, I relieved myself, and felt every drop I expelled burn the area which gave me so much pleasure hours before. Matt left me sore and dry.

I turned on the light, so I could assess the damage to my body. After my vision adjusted to the bright lights, I looked at my torso from top to bottom in the half mirrored wall above the sink. I looked a hot mess. My hair was a frizzy tangle of loose curls pointing in all directions. My face was dry and reddened. I looked down my neck, inspecting every inch of me. It wasn’t until I saw my breasts that I saw marks. There were darkening hickeys, bite marks, and scratches throughout my torso. Each mark on my body reminded me of our night, and my body vibrated with the memory. I held myself up on the counter and took in deep breaths. I turned from one side to the other, and assessed my back. I shook my head in disbelief. There were scratches and bruises on my back and especially on my buttocks.

Matt’s fingers were imprinted on my skin where he smacked, pulled, held, and squeezed my flesh as he punished and pummeled into me. I could still feel the dual sensations of his grip and his thrusts, which made my clit tingle. Matt knowingly kept the pain on my torso where they wouldn’t be visible, leaving me to wonder the depths of his experience. I shivered at the memories of our coupling. Just a tiny flashback caused me to cream, moistening my folds with need. I shook my head to erase the feelings overtaking me.

I set the water to fill the tub because I needed a long soak. After the tub was filled with water and bath salts, I grunted as I raised my legs to enter the tub. It was an effort to lower my body. I finally knew the meaning of “fucked until I couldn’t walk.” I winced when the heated water covered my vagina. In that moment, I never wanted to have sex again. However, the water soothed every inch of my decrepit body. I sunk lower to feel it on my upper body, soaking my hair. The echoed moan I uttered startled me. I promised myself I would never allow him to take me in that manner again, knowing I would fail miserably. While Matt was angry and irrational, wanting to punish me the only way he knew how to connect with me—through sex, I absolutely loved every minute of his control.

Sex was the first thing we had in common. It was our method of communication when neither of us could express the truth of our thoughts and feelings. But he took it up a notch, and ‘fuck me’ if I didn’t love every second of it. But afterwards, I felt lonely and empty; and irreparably damaged when he walked out. I wasn’t used to these strong sexual desires and I certainly never had the urges and experience before Matt. I felt like he had ruptured through a second virginity of the kinky kind, breaking the barriers of our sexual limits and I wanted to see if we had more to give each other. Was there another level we could reach? I didn’t know. We’ve never talked about it. But one thing was certain, I wanted more. And I needed to figure out a way to keep him, but not sacrifice my dreams.

A conversation of where we go from this point forward was not had, but Matt ensured to give me an ultimatum. I had to file the license before it expired or we would be over. Quite frankly, I didn’t know what I wanted. I rolled my eyes and shut them tight, willing the tears to stop from gathering and spilling out. The mess I was in had a very complicated solution, and there were going to be hurt feelings. I hated the thought of being the heart-breaking temptress when I didn’t create this awful situation. It wasn’t my choice to be a divorcee at twenty-eight; have two men claim their love for me thereby destroying their lifelong friendship; and have an entire billion dollar corporation’s future hang in the balance because of my decision. Nowhere in sight was my happily ever. And from where I stood, I was in control of everyone’s happy ending.

I couldn’t lose Matt. I was desperately in love with him. Last night was the best and worst experience of my life. He was exactly how I needed him--dominant. The only way I would make a choice would be at his command. I would actually make a definitive decision about Matt. I had about two weeks for our marriage license to expire. Matt wouldn’t seek a new license and do another ceremony. He threatened to dismantle Pentagon, but I still held his shares. He would find a way to obliterate Pentagon. Yet, I’m forbidden from seeing Brady, or I will be punished.

I shivered at the thought of being “punished.” If it was anything like last night and I’d feel like this every morning, I wouldn’t allow myself do anything which requires him to punish me. It was fun and exciting in the moment, but the aftereffects were excruciating. However, the thought of what else he would do made my body tingle and my nipples pearl.

‘I’m such a freak,’ I confirmed. I needed to come up with a plan to stop them from ruining their business. I didn’t want to be the cause of Pentagon’s demise. I also stood to lose a lot from the disruption of the corporation. Most important, thousands of people’s job lay in the balance. I could lose my Vice President position; a job I immensely enjoyed and needed for my professional growth. I didn’t want the five friends to have a rift in their relationship, but it was inevitable between Brady and Matt. The other friends would certainly take sides. I either had to run far, far away from the men of Pentagon or find a way to make all of us work collaboratively for the rest of our lives. The thoughts of what I needed to do churned in my head. A phone call was in order.

I jumped out of the water, swishing the waves, which splashed onto the tiled floor. I finished grooming in the bathroom and popped some pain relievers. I dressed in loose clothing after slathering my body with an emollient lotion, soothing my pained skin. I grabbed my cell phone, quietly said a prayer, and pressed to dial Zipper’s phone. He picked up immediately.

“Hello, Perla.” He huffed.

“I know, I’m the last person you want to talk to, but I need your help.”

“Look, Perla. I’ve been at this with both Matt and Brady since you two returned. This is a mess. Both are looking to destroy the other and worse, the company.”

“What do they want?”

“Brady wants to oust Matt. He wants to find a way to get rid of him. You have control over the shares, and he’s hoping you’ll keep them indefinitely. He wants me to find a legal means for you to keep the shares or for us to take them over from both of you,” he informed.

Brady’s attempts to get Matt’s shares angered me. It wasn’t something I thought Shay would attempt. But I knew for sure, when it came to business, Shay didn’t make an appearance.

“He wouldn’t ask you to do that. He knows you’re Matt’s best friend and you wouldn’t agree to it. How did you find out?”

“He asked my associate to look into it. My associate called me and warned me, knowing this would affect the company.”

“What does Matt want?” I asked.

“He wants to force the dissolution of the company. Essentially, he’s cashing out, and forcing all of us to do the same. This causes all sorts of problems for the corporation. It will put us in legal limbo for a long time because each of us intends to fight it.”

“So you told him ‘no’?”

“Pentagon is my company too. I’m not going to agree to break up something we’ve built as friends,” he claimed then paused.

After a long while, I started, “I have an idea of how to keep everything intact, but I need you to support me and convince Kent and Lark to take the action I want to propose on Monday. I want to call an emergency meeting with the three of you. Can you call them?”

“We’re having dinner tonight. Why don’t you join us?” He asked.

I paused for a moment, thinking through the offer. It would be better to address them in a casual conversation rather than meeting in an austere conference room. I didn’t want to appear cold, distant, or confrontational. Worse, I didn’t want to be their Helen of Troy. Having them see me as an ally would be better than having them see me as the woman who ruined their perfect, gigantic, money making operation.

“Okay, where are you meeting?” I asked intrigued.

“We’re meeting at my place. I’ll text you the time and address. I’m hoping you can help us resolve this soon. You’re the only one who can fix this,” he concluded.

With his final statement, we hung up.

*****

An entire corporation’s fate lay on my shoulders, and the notion was overwhelming. I spent the day alone in the apartment researching and taking notes of the corporation’s bylaws. I took several breaks to look at my cell phone, hoping to get a text message or an email from Matt. The phone never rang. Not hearing from him was excruciating. It was easier to be in another country, held emotionally captive by Shay, than to fight a major battle with Matt. From my research, I couldn’t fight the Pentagon battle alone. I needed the other Pentagon men’s support and assistance. Most importantly, I would have to start the battle and finish it in less than two weeks.

A call to Irena, for an update, produced nothing. She assured me she was working overtime on figuring out the many clues she needed to link together. I gave her a new deadline to provide me with the information needed to protect the corporation. Her first requirement was to interview the kidnappers because as she said, as the victim, I wouldn’t be permitted to speak to the detainees. I gave her specific questions to ask each of them. My most innocuous request was the return of my wedding ring, hoping it was kept as evidence for me to claim.

Not trusting our internal secured network to transfer information to the three Pentagon men, I decided to go downstairs to the pharmacy to purchase some flash drives for saving the report I compiled. I took the opportunity to purchase some essentials. It was good to stroll down the aisles like a normal person, instead of having my meals and supplies handed to me. While trying to stock up on toiletries, I realized I hadn’t had a need for feminine products. A frightening thought went through my gut, and I whipped out my cell phone. I opened the calendar app, and frantically calculated backwards to the last time I had my period. When I couldn’t pinpoint the exact day or time frame, I knew. All the times I’d gotten nauseas in the Caribbean, believing they were due to the entire ordeal, was because of pregnancy. I wouldn’t need any of the boxes and packages of pads and tampons. I looked over and grabbed a box of pregnancy testers.

After my purchase, I returned to the apartment to test for pregnancy, praying it wasn’t true. I wanted a baby, but once again, timing was not on my side. Within a few minutes I had my answer in a simple word in a tiny window, ‘pregnant.’ I gasped, touching my lip with my free hand and clutching my answer in the other.

A flood of emotions passed through me. The thought of being pregnant without my mother to experience my milestone caused me to drift like a feather to the bathroom floor. She wouldn’t see me get large with her first grandchild. I wouldn’t be able to pull her hand onto my belly when he kicks. ‘He,’ I thought. She wouldn’t hold him. I wept until I couldn’t weep anymore.

My next instinct was to call him. Matt needed to know. I had to tell him we were going to be a family. I stopped before dialing his number. If he knew I of the pregnancy he would control my every decision and movement before I could install a protocol, preventing him and Brady from destroying the company. After getting rid of the used test, I readied myself to meet with the Pentagon trio. I was even more determined to push my idea and hoped they would support my plan.

*****

Zipper’s brownstone set in Back Bay emitted a regal feel. Jenna welcomed me into their home, and I was immediately stricken with a beautiful interior. She eagerly gave me a tour of their palatial corner residence, which I thought would be just an apartment within the five levels. Zipper converted and renovated a five apartment brownstone into a one family home with seven bedrooms; five baths; a gourmet kitchen overlooking an open social space; a sitting room and library; an office; an exercise studio; and a media room. No expense was spared, Jenna informed. The place had to cost in the range of thirty-million dollars with all the renovations, custom builds, and furnishings. I was blown away.

Jenna and I sat and talked about how we’d been since the last time, but avoided discussing the issue at hand. I didn’t know how much Zipper informed her, but I wasn’t interested in talking about my time away with Brady or fear of losing Matt. I couldn’t help but feel scrutiny as the woman who prompted the destruction of Pentagon. I sat, waiting for a firing squad. Zipper returned home from a meeting at headquarters. He’d assembled his legal team to counter anything Matt or Brady would bring against the Board. One by one, Lark and Kent arrived. Like all the good girlfriends of the Pentagon men do, Jenna left us to meet privately. The four of us sat and chatted in the sitting room. It was a dark, manly space, making the discussion more ominous. I finally knew how it felt to be part of them, but I wasn’t part of them. I was an interloper who was the root of their problems.