BOUND TO THE ENEMY

(Day of the will reading).

"This is absurd, I'm not going to do it!" Carla Davis interrupted the man reading her father's will, "I will not accept this farce, I will not marry this man!"

With her office suit of black skirt and white shirt, straight black hair, and high heels, the beautiful Protocol assistant of the corporation stood up and squeezed her eyelids tightly.

"This is complete madness!" she cried out to everyone. Her breathing quickened, eyes filled with rage. She could not believe that her father had done this, sensing the real reason was only to hurt her.

"I don't know what..." She sighed to calm down, "I don't know what was the real intention of that man to do this to us, but it's ridiculous." And she started pacing back and forth like a caged beast because she was certainly an employee and couldn't do the slight of sneaking out leaving everyone with the word in their mouths.

Several minutes earlier, Carla Davis was riding the elevator straight up to the President's department of the company where she worked as a Senior Assistant, half an hour before the (for her) strange meeting.

Into her arms, she carried the folder had received the night before, holding it tightly like a treasure she needed to hide.

Carla felt something wasn't right. She felt anticipatory embarrassment at having to go to his boss, the CEO of the company, for answers to what he was carrying in his hands. Moreover, she was still wondering if was about to corroborate that this powerful businessman already knew all about her and her best-kept secret. Hiding for five years being the daughter of a famous English businessman, had been one of the most complicated things in her life.

Precisely, that gentleman who bore her father's title had died and the folio she carried in her arms showed account statements and a payroll of the company managed for more than two decades. In addition, it stipulated that she was the heir to 20 percent of those shares, something far-fetched since father and daughter had the worst relationship between them.

"How did they find out about my whereabouts?" she had mentally asked herself, referring to the errand received the night before at her front door.

The elevator opened on the President's floor and the first thing she saw was Tyler Clement, one of the building's bodyguards, sitting on the right-hand side, in the small room in front of the large windows, from where a good panoramic view of the city could be seen, and Lenis Evans, the CEO's secretary, sitting on the left side, behind a reception desk, being the personal assistant of whom Carla would be meeting.

"Good morning," she greeted, softly.

Lenis turned her powerful blue eyes to her and smiled.

"Carla! It's so good to see you. I heard that you just joined us yesterday, I'm so glad you're feeling better and that you're back with us," the secretary commented.

"Thank you very much." The newcomer was trying to control her nervousness.

Lenis, as always, perceptive, began to sense that something was wrong with her.

"How may I help you?" She looked at the doors of the Presidency. "Do you wish to speak with Maximiliano?"

Carla stood very still. Lenis' tone was measured, direct, and soft too, when she asked her that question, especially when mentioned the boss in such an informal way.

She had to swallow.

"I was invited to a meeting here," she thought of saying and it was the truth, but before getting there, she longed to throw all her questions right out of the elevator. She cleared her throat and looked at her wristwatch. "I was summoned at 09:00 in the morning."

Perhaps that information was more for herself than the secretary, who began to look at her with a puzzled face.

Lenis looked at the time on her computer screen, realizing that it was less than half an hour to a meeting.

"I think there's a mistake. Are you sure it's here, in the office of the President?"

Carla nodded. Her face looked very serious.

"Yes. It's with Mr. Maximiliano Bastidas."

Lenis frowned even more, but at the same time, she avoided smiling. As a personal assistant, friend, and wife of her boss's lawyer, she knew that Max and Carla already knew each other and that they had a special connection that went beyond the boundaries of work. She was amused by the formality Carla used to mention the CEO, she preferred to play along yet.

"Very well. Mr. Bastidas will be in a meeting at precisely that time, but if you want to talk to him, I will call you when you're in the Protocol department, so you can come up here again after the meeting is over..."

"Lenis, sorry to interrupt you. I must also be at that meeting. That's why I came here."

The secretary remained silent.

She scrutinized Miss Davis' face and saw in her black eyes strong determination.

"Oh, you are serious." It wasn't a question, to which Carla nodded and exhaled as well, clearly trying to loosen some of the tension she was holding. "Ok, right. You can sit down, please. I'll be right back." Lenis pointed to one of the living room furniture.

The secretary wanted to understand what was going on. Why was one of the four senior assistants from the Protocol Department called to the reading of an English businessman's will? That was the question the blue-eyed woman asked herself as she rose from her chair and made her way inside the office.

Lenis knocked before entering. Hearing Maximiliano's voice, she opened the door and closed it behind her.

He was not alone. Attorney George J. Miller, a well-cut and groomed black-haired man in a pristine lead gray three-piece suit, was present. Both of them, with documents and the computer on (Lenis was certain) with all the inquiries and data concerning the English company that had summoned them.

"Is everything ready for the video call?" Max asked without looking at her.

George, her husband, was watching her, serious, intimidating as always, playing with her sanity and staying power. His perennial poker face (or the one he used to wear many times a day) winked at her almost imperceptibly.

"Carla Davis is outside," she announced.

Max immediately withdrew his face from a leaf in his hands and turned it to Lenis.

"She wasn't on leave? What is she doing here?"

His assistant wanted to answer, but it was difficult. She didn't quite know what to say, or how to explain what the same protocol assistant had just told her out there.

"What's going on?" Max said as he saw her put her arms up and hesitate to say the words.

"Carla claims she was invited to the reading of the will."

Maximiliano wrinkled his eyebrows. He looked at Lenis as if he had grown ten heads.

George, on the other hand, straightened up. As a litigator, he knew that not just anyone was invited to the reading.

"Is she the same Carla Davis who works for you?" No sooner he blurted out that last question and George had to grit his teeth. It was a question that carried weight, since, as the secretary knew, Maximilian and Carla already knew each other, had written a short history together, tied them all together, were memories of dark days that were still fresh, were too recent for the taste of the three present there.

Max looked at him. He would answer him if Lenis hadn't done it.

"Yes, she is. The same woman who helped us imprison our worst enemy months ago. That same employee is out there and claims to have been summoned by Mr. Fred Davison's attorney for the reading of the document..." Lenis was silent. Her gaze was lost for a moment. Something happened in her head when she mentioned aloud the last name of the deceased businessman.

She felt in her chest a pressure, almost excitement, perhaps the advent of a strong and important discovery -or a suspicion of it- when concatenating such appellations.

And it was not she alone who felt the arrival of a novel light. Maximilian stood still and George looked at her, then at him.

"Is that woman related to Davison? Is one of my employees related to that man? My worst enemy?!" Maximiliano blurted out.

Lenis immediately left the office before his boss exploded, closing the door behind him.

"Carla, could you please come with me?" the secretary asked just after approaching the lounge.

Carla stood up, nodded, and followed her, realizing seconds later that they were arriving in the boardroom.

The world slowed down for the Protocol assistant as she saw who was waiting for her around the large conference table.

In her mind, she uttered a rude remark that she would certainly never dare to say out loud.

One morning she left her home determined not to lose her job. Now, dressed in a nice but comfortable office attire of a long-sleeved white shirt, black skirt, pantyhose, and heels, make-up lightened, hair extra straight and loose, she went to the building with the premise of clearing up other matters, ignoring a doctor who prescribed rest to alleviate or at least try to eliminate her stress. A day before, Carla Davis never thought she would meet these people: George J. Miller, one of the best lawyers in the region, as well as one of the toughest, famous for being the one who imprisoned international criminals and closed huge business deals, and his boss, Maximiliano Bastidas, the owner and founder of this investment consortium, as well as the man who had intimidated her the most in her life.

Bastidas was, to her and in addition, absolutely handsome, into his forties, beautiful face, with lines of expression that denoted him as wise and demanding; and brown hair that he wore messily combed. She was sure they had both been attracted to each other at one time or another, but she was also aware that they were not right. She belonged to a very different world from his.

Now the situation was different, it seemed to be worse. Intimidation seemed to be choking her. Mistrust wanted to turn into fury through the eyes of the CEO, who didn't lose details of her every move as she sat down.

"We meet again, Miss Davis. And what a way."

She swallowed hard at her boss's welcome, delivered in bitter words that nearly took her breath away.

"Before this... this atypical meeting begins," Max continued, looking her straight in the face, "I'd like you to tell us all here why you've come to this private meeting and what this particular surprise business of being summoned to this reading is like."

Directly. No beating around the bush. Carla wasn't surprised by that, Max's question was the most logical.

But the answer she had, threatened to spin everything out of control. She opted to tell the truth but placing every word on a cushion that could any fall was best.

"I apologize for not greeting you when I arrived." She nodded toward the lawyer and Max before continuing. "I'm as surprised by all this as you are."

She placed the thick folder on the table and rubbed the English company's logo a couple of times.

"Last night I received this folder inside a box that the official postal company left on my doorstep," she swallowed to calm a sudden dryness, something that used to happen to her when she was nervous or stressed, "with information that for me is quite unusual. I come here precisely with a summons I never expected, but also to corroborate what it says in this folder about me..."

"Why about you?" Max interrupted. "Why are you here?"

She swallowed again, the thirst was annoying.

"Because I'm a relative of the deceased man and owner of that will. Because I'm Fred Davison's daughter."