Collateral Damage (Teaser Chapters)

Chapter 4

“What is it?” Muse asked, looking at the garment bag her father was holding out to her.

It was Sunday afternoon, and she’d had to tell her employer she couldn’t work that day because she was moving. Her manager had sounded intrigued, but he allowed her the day off to make the move. She had been nothing but an exemplary employee up until now, even taking extra shifts whenever necessary.

“It’s your mother’s wedding dress.” The gruff voice of her father ground out at her.    

Looking up at him from her locked gaze on the bag, Muse could feel the sting of tears behind her eyelids. She struggled to keep them from spilling over with a few rapid blinks.

Shit.

“You may need to take in the waist. Not that we knew it at the time, but your mother was already pregnant with Drew when we got married,” Bryant grumbled to his youngest child.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she mumbled, her voice low and wobbly.

He nodded back at her curtly. As if emotions were a new and foreign concept to him. “Well, I’m sure your mom would have wanted you to have it,” Bryant explained away briefly. He started moving slowly towards the door before Muse could respond.

Closing the door after him, she took the garment bag and placed it gingerly on the bed before unzipping it. She had never seen the dress before. Well—that was not entirely true. At some point, a photo of Bryant and Adelina Anderson had been placed above their old tube television before the ancient bit of technology had finally given up the ghost and crapped out on them. Now they had a minuscule flat screen they had gotten from a secondhand store. It was one of the few luxuries allowed in the Anderson home nowadays. Television and some basic cable service. At least enough so that their father could watch the Tampa Bay Rays get their asses handed to them season after season.

Muse pulled the old dress from the bag and put it up against her body. The dress was simple, but still pretty. A lace veil that looked antique was hung up with it, and Muse had to wonder if it was a family heirloom of some sort.

And there was something else.

Attached to the veil was a bit of round metal.

Taking the veil from its place on the hanger, Muse unwound it from its place before realizing what it was. A silver ring with several gemstones placed in the setting. Diamond, citrine, and what looked like aquamarine.

Birthstones for herself and Drew, and a diamond for her mother’s birth month.

That was enough to set her off crying as she placed the jewelry on her right ring finger with shaking hands.

***

All of her boxes and bags were set down in the living room, just waiting to be picked up by Clay’s P.A., Jim, and another one of his overpaid, underappreciated lackeys.

Muse’s leg was jiggling as she tried to watch the ballgame that was playing on the television. She had no idea who was playing, but would have bet her eyeteeth that the Rays were getting pounded. Again. At least the curses that flew from her father’s lips were a good indication of that.

At precisely 4:27 PM, a knock sounded at the front door. Muse thought it even sounded professional. Three quick raps at an even tempo. Like the man on the other side was set to a metronome.

Knowing that Drew was in his room and her father wouldn’t get up from a Ray’s game unless the house had caught fire, she stood up and walked over to the door to open it.

A man around Clay’s age, maybe a couple of years younger at the most, was standing there with a warm smile. He had brown hair and brown eyes with a layer of scruff on his chin and lower cheeks. Not at all what she had thought a working professional would look like. But then again, this was the weekend.

“You must be Jim?” Muse assumed as she stood away from the door to let the man in.

“Yes, and you are Muse, I presume,” the man replied. His voice was as warm as his smile, and Muse had to welcome him in with as much fervor. The man was charming in his own way.

“Yes, I am,” she told him. She didn’t move from her place, wondering what to do next.

“This here is Rod, and he’ll be helping get your stuff packed away in the van,” Jim walked over to the few boxes and bags that held all of Muse’s worldly goods and blinked. There wasn’t much there, but that was no matter. He was sure Clay would be making sure she had everything she needed in the coming few weeks.

No future wife of Clay Bennett’s was going to go around in threadbare t-shirts and thrice-patched jeans. New undergarments, a decent cell phone, maybe a laptop or tablet. Clay had made a list of things she would need to have purchased for her, and if she said no, he would have the associates at the mall outlets pick the items out for her. And send Jim to get her the technological devices worthy of a Bennett.

Oh—and no shitty job at a diner. Not that Jim was going to tell Muse that. Clay could have that dubious honor.

“Hello, Rod,” Muse spoke to the younger man. He was maybe 25 at most and a few inches shorter than Jim’s 6 feet. He gave her a pleasant smile and walked into the home. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Hello, Miss Anderson,” Rod greeted formally. “The pleasure is all mine.”

It took them only a few minutes to take all of her stuff to the white van. Muse watched as the two men looked helplessly around as they waited for her to walk toward the vehicle. She was still on the front porch and had looked down at them while they scurried back and forth with boxes and bags to pack into the moving truck. They hadn’t allowed her to haul any of the items herself, and she was forced to look like the little woman she most assuredly was not.

“If you’ll just give me a moment to say goodbye,” Muse said to them before turning around to reenter the house. Her brother had come up from his little dungeon-like room in the basement when he had heard the shuffling of the men’s feet above him. He had stared at them for a while after having offered his help as well. Jim had insisted that he and Rod would do all the work. It was what they were being paid for, after all.

Muse walked right up to her brother and gave him a big hug. He was her closest family member now that her grandparents were all the way on the east coast near Miami. She stayed there in his arms until she was sure the tears brimming in her eyes were in no danger of pouring down her face.

“Did you pack the garment I gave you?”

It was her father’s voice, and it was quite near to her. She stepped out of her brother’s arms and into her father’s as if on auto-pilot. It was the first hug they had shared in...God, years? A decade maybe? Well, it was long enough for her to forget how scrawny her father’s arms felt as they wound their way around her back.

“Yes,” Muse mumbled into her father’s neck.

“Good.” His voice became thicker the longer he spoke. “Muse, I know this isn’t ideal, but I hope you will wear that dress on your wedding day—when…whenever that is. And I hope you can somehow be as happy in your marriage as your mother and I were for a time.”

“I…I hope so too,” she replied back, tears finally spilling down her cheeks unchecked. Why was it so much more difficult to say goodbye to her father than she thought it would be? Was it because he had finally seemed to realize what he had just as he was about to lose it? Or did he merely feel bad that his daughter may be cursed to a loveless marriage so that he could remain housed in the dream home he and his wife had bought 25 years ago? It had to be one of the two, and Muse hoped with all her heart it was at least a little bit more of the former.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” her father said. It was the first term of endearment he had called her since she was knee-high and he’d called her pumpkin. “Please visit us often. And...I’m truly sorry.”

She pulled back from him before swiping the tears from her face. “Don’t be sorry,” she urged him. “This was my decision to make, and I…I don’t regret it one bit.”

Okay. So that may have been a little white lie, but only time would tell if it would be true or not.

After saying her goodbyes, Jim opened the door to another black vehicle that was double-parked near the home. Some luxury sedan of gigantic proportions. She didn’t look at the make and model, but was soon engulfed in the aroma of fresh leather seats and that delicious and rare “new car smell”.

***

Jim made a bit of small talk with the young woman who kept her gaze fixed out the window. He explained where they were going and how far it would take to get to Clay’s palatial home.

Clay Bennett lived in a suburb of Tampa on the Gulf side of Tampa Bay. The road that led to his home was private, and the homes expansive. And expensive. Of course they would be, though.

His spacious home covered several acres in the Gulfview neighborhood of Largo, Florida and was guarded by a gate to the long driveway from the private road. At the end of that driveway, Jim stated, was a home of odd proportions. Like it had been added onto over the years, though the same architect would have had to have done the job to make the improvements so seamless.

There was a lagoon-shaped pool in the back that was somewhat heated in the wintertime. A barely-used hot tub was lodged a few feet away from the pool.

The address was 10850 Spring Street, and the house had four baths, 8 bedrooms, and boasted over 3,500 square feet. Built in 1989, it was set on a 2.12-acre lot and had a boat launch a good distance away from the mansion. The home was only separated from the Gulf by a thin strip of land where many smaller homes and condominiums lay in the small town of Indian Springs.

After having tried to imagine such grandeur, Muse gave up on listening to Jim. Instead, her thoughts went to her brother and father. Would they be okay without her? Neither of them could cook unless it was something that could be zapped in the microwave or ordered from a place with takeout or delivery options. Maybe she should go over once a week and at least cook a few meals for them so that they were getting some of the nutrients they needed. If it were up to Drew and her father, they’d eat DiGiorno’s or Hungry Man TV dinners all the time.

Once they crossed west over I-275, Jim stopped talking. He realized the young woman wasn’t paying any attention to him. Her gaze was far away, and he wasn’t surprised one bit. She was being uprooted from her home and coerced into a relationship with a man she had met for only a few hours. A man she didn’t know, and didn’t love. One as cold as ice when he wanted to be.

And he wanted to be often.

Jim sighed and took the exit heading toward Gulfview. Muse seemed to be paying a little more attention at the homes surrounding the area. They were much nicer than the ramshackle two-bedroom she had lived in with her father and brother.

She thought perhaps that if Clay’s home was large enough, she wouldn’t have to see her future husband often. He seemed like a man who wouldn’t marry for love, only for heirs or arm candy. In her case, she assumed the former. A breeder.

She sighed as the houses around them became more luxurious and opulent. As they entered a gate, she assumed that this was the gated community that he lived in. There was a long road with a huge house at the end. It was then that she realized this wasn’t the gated community. This was the house and property that Clay Bennett lived on.     

Muse stared up at the main house with her lips parted slightly. She didn’t realized how ridiculous she looked until Jim opened her door for her and held a hand out for her to be escorted from the car. The man acted more like a chauffeur than a P.A.

 “The front door should be open,” Jim told her. “There is a sitting room off to the left you can make use of until we get your things situated indoors.”

Muse walked slowly up to the large double doors and felt the need to knock. But if she was to be living there, why bother? True, she didn’t yet have a key to the estate, but she would most likely have some soon.

Opening up the hunter green doors, she scanned to the right and left. The house was as silent as a tomb, and she wondered if Clay was even inside this monstrosity of a house. Making her way to the sitting room, she wondered exactly what a sitting room entailed. Sitting certainly—but what else? It seemed like a waste of real estate to her.

Muse watched as Jim and Rod brought the boxes into the home and carried them off to...well, wherever Clay had told them, she assumed.

And where were they taking her stuff? Would she have to share a bed with a man she’d barely exchanged pleasantries with less than 48 hours ago?

Dear God.

She was looking at the cracked screen of her phone when heavy footsteps came towards her. She assumed they were Jim’s, but a different voice sounded out, startling her.

“We will get you a new phone tomorrow and a car this upcoming weekend,” Clay’s cold voice spoke. “Until then, I will have Rod drive you wherever you need to go.”

Her eyes met with his cool green ones, and she wondered if the man ever smiled outside of a business setting. His jaw was set rigid below full lips and a straight nose. Clay’s hair was messier than when she had last seen it, and a part of her wanted to sweep away the locks covering his forehead so she could look into his eyes. Study them. Try to figure why this man did what he did. Instead, she just spoke.

“Why?” she asked.

Clay blinked coldly back at her, his surprise at her question flashing over his face briefly before becoming stern again.

“Because that phone you have in your hand looks likes like it’s on its last legs, and you will need to get around town somehow,” Clay said, answering the questions he thought she’d asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “Why am I here?”

A few answers flew through Clay’s mind at her question.

Why? Maybe because he needed a wife and heirs to please his idiotic parents’ wishes for him. Maybe because she was a well-placed opportunity that he was willing to take a chance on.

Or maybe because from the first moment he saw her, he had wanted her like no one else.

But he said none of those things and spoke out the words he was wont to say when he didn’t want to answer truthfully.

 “Because I said so,” he bit out. “That’s why.”

***

What a d**k.

It was all Muse could think when he had given the same response generations of mothers gave to their children. Because I said so.

Un-f*****g-real.

“That’s a s**t response,” she spat at him. If she was going to be living in his home as his future wife, she was setting the boundaries now. He could treat her like the grown woman she was, not a child to be scolded or talked down to.

“And it’s the only response you’ll get from me,” he told her. “Come. I will show you to our room.”

Muse had gotten up, but stilled when she heard the word “our” pass his lips. “What do you mean our room?” she asked him, not moving an inch from her spot. “Do I not get one of my own for at least a little while?”

“No,” he cut out, his voice frigid.

“And why not? This house is huge. You can’t tell me there aren’t plenty of extra rooms.” She was going to be stubborn about this.

“You are, from here on out, my fiancée, and you will act as such both in public and private settings,” he grunted. “You might as well get used to it, and that starts with sharing my bed.”

“I’m not going to f**k you,” she informed him, setting a firm boundary.

“I wouldn’t force myself upon you or any woman.” His eyes narrowed in on her. “You can rest assured that I will only f**k you when you want to be fucked.”

His smile bordered on lascivious, making her skin crawl uneasily.

Clay’s voice lowered to a dangerous level. “And, eventually, you will want to be f****d by me.”

He turned on his heel slowly and gestured for her to follow along.

The master bedroom suite was as grandiose as the rest of the house, and Muse looked immediately at the bed. It looked to be king size, if not larger.

What came after king? Emperor of the universe? God-sized? He’d probably had it custom-made so he could sleep on a different section of it every day of the week.

Well, he’d have to share his ridiculously gargantuan bed with a slightly perturbed fiancée who knew nothing about him. She hoped he didn’t snore. Or roll around a lot. Or...well, other things.

At least he didn’t seem like one to cuddle up on a person in the middle of the night. If she had to wake up with his morning wood pressed up against her ass, she would probably freak out on him.

“I’ve had the housekeeper go through all your clothing and get rid of anything I deem unacceptable. Anything too flimsy or old was thrown away, and you will have new clothing either delivered to you, or you can shop for it yourself. Rod will take you tomorrow.”

She had work tomorrow. Muse wasn’t a woman to be kept in a glass jar like some sort of placeholder. She enjoyed working, even if it was for a pittance. Clay was in such a foul mood, though, that she would tell him at a later time.

“You threw out my clothing?” she bit out at him. The f*****g nerve.

“Not all of it.” His tone was mild, like he had said the milk had gone bad or the expiration date had passed on a cereal box. He placed his keys and wallet on the bedside table as he continued. “You still have a few articles of clothing. And whatever is in that garment bag.”

The wedding dress. Thank f*****g God he hadn’t thrown that out. She would have had a stroke had he done that.

“After Jim and I get back from work tomorrow, he will take you shopping for a new phone and a tablet if you want. Or I can take you,” he added on that last bit in the event she didn’t mind his dour demeanor while she shopped tech.

“I don’t need a new phone. This one works perfectly fine,” she said.

I wouldn’t have needed new clothing either if the housekeeper hadn’t tossed 90% of the stuff I owned.

“You will have a new phone,” he told her coldly. “Android, Apple—it makes no difference to me. No fiancée of mine is going to walk around town with a piece of technology that saw its best days in the early 2000s.”

The man was going to cause her to go absolutely mad. He was domineering and cold as icicles in the Arctic, and she wanted to go up to him and smack his face for his insolent cheek. He was treating her like one of his employees and not like a loved one. Not that she expected him to feel for her after only a few hours knowing her. That would have been utterly ridiculous.

“I don’t need a car.” It was obvious she was willing to fight him every step of the way.

“The buses don’t run out here, so unless you want me to hire you your own personal chauffeur, you will need one,” he said.

He had a point. A chauffer used only to take her from work and back would have been a ridiculous expense. Unnecessary.

“Fine, but nothing fancy,” she conceded. She felt like stomping her foot at him.

“You’ll get an Audi, Saab, or Volvo,” he granted, limiting her options.

“I can’t even pick out what type of vehicle I want?”

This was getting ridiculous.

“Or a Lexus,” he added, giving her the most minuscule ounce of leeway in her options.

“What if I wanted a Chevy?” she asked.

“You don’t,” he told her.

“How would you know?”

“Because I said so, and what I say, goes,” the man replied and started to unlatch his wristwatch. “Now dress for dinner in whatever you deem appropriate. The meal will be at 6:30 sharp. Do not be late.”

Muse gave the middle finger to his back as he left, but kept silent otherwise.

What was wrong with what she was wearing? The jeans were old but clean. She’d probably have to hide them on the housekeeper in the event they tried to throw them out as well. She needed something of her comfortable, albeit destitute, old life to ground her and remind her of who she is—or rather, was. She didn’t know any more. Already this man was trying to change her, and she despised him for it. Muse had never been the unpleasant, pliable victim she was now.

When she went to her dresser drawers, she saw that he had left her with only the bare essentials. Undergarments and some pajamas.

Striding over to a walk-in closet that was larger than the bedroom at her father’s house, she saw that he had left her with very few options, most of them dresses that she had rarely worn over the years. Unless she wanted to wear dresses and skirts forever, she would need to do some serious shopping the next day.

She settled on a blue maxi-dress she had once worn to some event she couldn’t remember much about. It wasn’t fancy or even particularly nice, so it almost looked brand new.

Muse dressed in the walk-in closet and then sat down on the edge of the bed before testing the softness of the mattress. It was like butter. Something only a person of considerable means would be able to afford. Just as she had expected.

It only made Muse more bitter toward the man. He had everything in life, and yet he treated the people around him like s**t. Like they were possessions to him and could be thrown away at his every whim. She wondered if he considered her his possession. If he did, she hoped he would throw her away soon, too. Before tying the knot. No one needed a messy divorce, though he could well afford it.

Muse left the room at 6:25 PM and made her way slowly to the dining room. When she arrived after getting lost several times, it was 6:31, and she had decided to ask for a tour of the house as soon as dinner was over.

“You’re late,” he told her from his place at the head of the table.

“I got lost,” she replied, her voice as cold as she could muster.

His jaw twitched before he cleared his throat. “I’ll have someone show you around after dinner,” he offered. “Jim probably.”

“He’s already done enough for me today,” she told him. “Doesn’t he get a day off? It’s Sunday for Christ’s sake.”

Clay cut her with his eyes, the light green of them flashing with some unknown emotion or reaction, most likely rage. “I pay him well to be on call any time I need him,” he tossed back at her. “Not that I need to explain myself to you.”

She looked away from his blank stare, fighting back a shudder. He was as cold as ice to everyone it seemed. No wonder he would need a wife and children that he had basically bought. The man had the charisma of a plucked chicken when he wasn’t in the middle of some shady business deal.

Had he shown his true personality two days before, Muse wouldn’t have so readily agreed to marry the man. She probably still would have, but she wouldn’t have been so quick to reply. Or as willing. She had to see it as it was—simply an end to a mean for each other.

Sighing, she looked at the food on the plate before her. It looked to be some chicken dish with a side of mashed potatoes and asparagus. It was an odd combination, she thought. Mashed potatoes with asparagus.

Thinking no more of it, she bent her head to say a rare, silent prayer, bowing her head and clasping her hands before her. She usually never said prayers, just as she usually never attended church. Once she was done, she opened her eyes to see Clay watching her closely.

“What?” she asked, her hands hesitating before grabbing a knife and fork to cut her meat with.

“You didn’t say a prayer before dinner the other night when I was at your house.”

So now he was going to observant.

And, for once, he didn’t sound angry, only confused.

“My family’s usually not much for praying. My dad doesn’t believe in God, and we never went to church growing up. Plus, my father has gotten angry on the few occasions I did pray before a meal. I didn’t need you to see that side of him on Friday,” Muse explained to him as she averted her eyes. His steady gaze on her was making her uncomfortable. Like she was some kind of rare specimen in a petri dish.

“I saw his worst side anyway—without any help from an unwanted prayer to God,” he told her, voice once again cold. “He treated you like you were a second-class citizen in your own home.”

“And you treat me so much better,” she scoffed, sarcasm coloring her words. “And I’m practically a guest here.”

“You live here now,” he obliged, ignoring her snark. “And I have difficulty being even remotely affectionate or kind to anyone except for Jim.”

“He’s a friend of yours,” Muse surmised as she cut a small piece of the chicken before placing it into her mouth. It was sinfully delicious, and she wondered who had cooked it. Probably one of his staff. “As is the cook, I see.”

“What?” He looked confused at her words.

“Well, if I was your cook and had to fix food for a cranky old curmudgeon every day, I’d probably end up poisoning him,” she told him, a small smile quirking up her lips. “On accident, of course.”

She smiled brilliantly at him, and Clay could only blink. It wasn’t the same smile he had loved so much at the store, but it was a damned close second. It was playful. Sly. It also had his c**k rising in his trousers under the expensive mahogany table they were seated at.

“You are a wicked child, aren’t you?” he questioned. She was surprised to hear his voice was almost gentle.

“I’m no child,” she quipped, cutting him off with a small sneer. “I haven’t been one for years. A child would have had a childhood to speak of. I was not blessed with one.”

“Then we have something in common,” he remarked, taking another bite of his food. The two stared at each other from across the table, cold green eyes to startled hazel ones.

Muse had assumed that since he had money, it may have bought him a pleasant youth. She supposed she could be wrong, but she was as stubborn as he and wouldn’t want to admit it.

“At least you know your parents loved you,” she mumbled after a pregnant pause.

“Do I?” he asked, his voice sounding almost amused at her words. “You haven’t met them. Just wait and see.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. If he was cold to her, he had to have learned it from somewhere, and now she had an inkling of who. “Is that why you are as cold and distant as you are?” she asked, finally understanding a bit about him.

“Enough, Muse,” he commanded. “This is hardly a subject I wish to discuss, much less at dinner time.”

“So then—we are to marry but be strangers?” She looked irritated at the thought. “How convenient for you.”

Muse rose from her chair and tossed her napkin onto her plate, the food barely touched.

“Muse, where are you going?” Clay demanded as he watched her get up and move toward the exit.

“To bed,” she told him. “If I can find it in this labyrinthine house.”

“You eat your meals with me,” Clay barked.

“I’m not hungry,” she bit back as she walked quickly out of the room and toward where she knew the stairs to be.

Clay looked over at her plate, but didn’t get up. She may have lied and told him she wasn’t hungry, but it didn’t mean he would have to interrupt his own dinner to soothe the irritable female. Surely she had friends for that type of thing, didn’t she?

Clay tried to finish his supper, and was surprised when he couldn’t. It shouldn’t have irritated him so, but he found for once he hadn’t cleaned his plate.

“Not such a nice feeling, is it?” Jim’s voice came from the doorway.

“What? What feeling?” Clay asked. Anger didn’t bother him. It only fueled a man like he.

“Guilt,” Jim told him and stepped further into the room. “That’s that feeling you get when—”

“I know what guilt is, you buffoon,” Clay told him. “And it’s not an emotion I can say I’ve ever suffered from. Or ever will, most likely.”

“You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me,” Jim disagreed as he stepped even further into the room. “You feel some guilt for uprooting that pretty little girl and foisting her upon your unpleasant ass.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the God’s honest truth,” Jim protested calmly. “And she’s right, in any case.”

“About?”

“About pretty much everything,” Jim countered. “You’re just too stubborn to see the truth in her words. “You treat your employees pleasantly enough—particularly the ones you have work in your home, but the rest are just expendable items you treat as disposable tissue. Or toilet tissue. You wipe your ass with them and flush.”

“I don’t pay you to speak your mind, Jim,” Clay told him curtly, utterly tired of his bullshit.

“Oh, I’m not speaking as an employee, but as a friend,” Jim told him. “And if you want my friendly, unsolicited advice, I say, let her in, if no one else. Living as strangers in the same bed will only make you and her more miserable.”

“You were listening in on our entire conversation?” Clay asked, a smirk threatening to come forth on his face.

Jim waved his hands away. “Both of your voices carry in this mausoleum of a house.”