Collateral Damage (Teaser Chapters)

Chapter 5

The only thing Muse could find to wear to bed was a barely-worn negligee that an ex-boyfriend had given to her for her birthday several years back. No t-shirts, tanks, or shorts could be found, and Muse was damned well sure not going to go to sleep in her dress.

She really needed to shop, and soon.

But at least the negligee wasn’t too skimpy. It was silky and covered all the important bits. And it beat the hell out of sleeping in only her bra and panties or completely in the buff.

After getting dressed, Muse went over to one of the boxes Rod and Jim had placed in the corner of the ridiculously spacious bedroom. It was the box she kept her old CDs and books in. Most of the former had been gifts from her brother over the years since he knew she loved a wide variety of music. The books were secondhand affairs she had gotten either from the half-price bookstore, or from the library’s annual sale where they got rid of older books and replaced them with newer copies.

Muse rummaged through the books, trying to select something soothing to read. She was still irritated and trying to ignore the gnawing her stomach was doing to her insides. She had lied when she told Clay that she wasn’t hungry, but she just couldn’t stand being in the same room as him for any longer either.

She found it didn’t matter that both of their childhoods sucked. He’d at least had someone to buy him the things he needed, and as far as Muse was concerned, it was a far better deal than she’d been given. The man acted like an ungrateful ass to anyone who didn’t give him instant gratification. She didn’t know how she was going to be able to deal with being in the same room as him for any longer than she had to, much less marry and bear his children.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to get that far. Maybe if she pushed him away enough, he would let her go eventually.

Maybe.

But Muse didn’t know the half of it. Drew had been right in a way. Clay was as stubborn as an old mule and never gave up until he got what he wanted. Or, in this case, who he wanted.

She ended up picking up one of her favorite books. It was an old, battered copy of Jane Eyre. She almost found it apropos. Most often she saw herself just as plain as Jane, and the dark protagonist reminded her slightly of Clay. Brooding, conniving, unpleasant, and wealthy. Mega-wealthy in Clay’s case.

At least Edward in the book had some redeeming qualities. If Clay had any, they were hidden from her for now. Maybe he showed them to his staff, but here with her, he was as prickly as a cactus.

Muse climbed under the sheets even though it was still early evening. She didn’t care about the time and had no reason to get back out bed unless it was to use the toilet. And she had to work the next day. Hopefully, Clay wouldn’t make her do something ridiculous like quit her job. She liked the people she worked with, and though the clientele left much to be desired at times, she wouldn’t be able to just sit around in this gargantuan home with nothing better to do other than read or watch television. She’d go insane due to inactivity.

About an hour after starting her book, Clay walked into the bedroom. Muse had to keep herself from looking up to make sure it was only him and not some of the hired help, but she was pretty sure the man ran a tight ship in his home and wouldn’t allow just anyone in without at least knocking first.

 “What are you doing?” he asked, sounding only the slightest bit interested. His tone was mostly stern, and her head lifted up to meet his scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m reading a book,” she deadpanned, although she was admittedly puzzled.

“What I meant was, why are you wearing that nightie?” he asked.

“It was the only bit of night apparel your staff left me with. Unless I want to go to bed in one of my dresses or nude, this is what I have to work with,” she explained, her voice a bit bitter about the lack of clothing available to her. She watched as he nodded to her and then averted his eyes.

At first, Clay thought Muse was trying to punish him. Wear something absolutely delectable to bed to remind him of what he couldn’t have.

At least not yet.

Even just from the little bit he could see of her, his c**k rose in his pants, and he walked over to his dresser, trying to ignore the sight of her bare flesh long enough to settle himself.

But the image was seared in his mind. All he could see was silky, wine-colored material that showed the gentle swell of her breasts. n*****s pressed against the fabric from within and poking out. Even the smooth flesh around the spaghetti straps of the nightie had him losing control of himself.

Clay grabbed a fresh pair of boxers, a t-shirt, and some flannel sleep pants.

He searched his mind for something to talk to her about. Jim was right, damn him. Being cold and distant toward people he didn’t have to deal with in terms of his business was difficult for him, and he was trying—well, going to try—to communicate with the person he had chosen to share his life with on a whim. When nothing came to the forefront of his mind readily, he blurted out the first idiotic thing he could think of.

“What is it you’re reading?” he asked her, his voice rushed.

“Jane Eyre,” she told him flatly.

Clay turned his upper body to look over at her. She was still staring at the book, her eyes continually sweeping across the page.

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still.”

It was a quote by Edward Rochester, and Muse’s eyes flew up to his, surprised at his quoting of the book.

“You...you’ve read it?” Her shock was apparent. As if a man of his wealth couldn’t have read one of the classics.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I used to read a lot back when I had the time. Dickens, the Brontës, but I preferred Jane Austen, and she was always something I went back to. A staple.”

“You don’t strike me as a reader of the classics,” she remarked, though not maliciously.

“My tutors insisted on it when I was growing up,” Clay explained, his tone softer. “If it had been up to me, I would have read comic books only, but when I started the fourth grade, my tutor insisted that I broaden my scope.”

Muse was astonished. The man actually smiled a little at his reminiscence.

“I guess Miss Jensen didn’t feel that a child should only be reading about superheroes and mutated villains,” he remarked, and caught himself before he could laugh.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his clothing and quickly walked into the en suite bathroom to get undressed and cleaned up.

He didn’t like cold showers, so he took care of his not-so-little problem down below as quietly as he could before releasing onto the tiles of the walk-in shower’s floor before rinsing the rest of the soap off his body and drying himself.

When he was decent, he came out of the bathroom to see that Muse was turned onto her side facing the door and had one hand cradled under her head. She was still reading her book, which was lying on the bed next to her elbow.

When he passed by, she spoke softly. “I always preferred the quote, What necessity is there to dwell on the Past, when the Present is so much surer—the Future so much brighter?” She mumbled the last of it as she dog-eared the page and set it aside on the night table and closed her eyes.

***

Muse woke up early the following morning to the sound of an alarm going off only to find that Clay was already wide awake and rustling through his drawers. He looked back at her and watched as she stretched, her arms reaching up to the vaulted ceiling as she sat up from the bed.

“Do you always get up so early?” he asked her, astonished. It was 4:30 AM. Not the usual time normal people would get up.

“Do you?” she vaulted back. She really wasn’t in the mood as of yet to fight with him about her going to work. Muse just had a feeling he wouldn’t be pleased with her working at a diner.

“Not usually, but I have a breakfast meeting with the architect for the mega-mall,” he told her. “We have to go over the new set of blueprints that I need now that we aren’t purchasing your father’s home.”

She stood up, wobbling a bit, before taking a step forward. “Mind if I use the bathroom really quick?” she asked him as she stumbled clumsily toward the door of the en suite.

“It’s your bathroom just as much as mine now, you know,” he reminded her softly. She wondered why he was being so...kind. Last night and this morning. Or at least after their awkward dinner debacle.

It was like a flip had been switched, and he was trying to be pleasant. Up to no good, most likely. Or perhaps he expected her to sleep with him soon. That may have had him trying to sweeten her up a bit.

Fat chance.

After using the bathroom in peace, she came back out to find Clay’s large frame hovering near the door as if about to enter. He was so close that she bumped into him and stumbled back a bit. His hand came down to steady her, and he rested it gently on the small of her back.

Even through the material of her nightie, she could feel his touch. It was like he had placed a hand-shaped branding iron on her back. At first, she stilled before moving away from him a bit.

Muse looked up at him and took in his penetrating gaze. It made her face flush and she looked down. It wasn’t a good idea. His chest was still bare, and she could see the clearly defined ridges that wound their way in dips and curves to the top of his sleep pants.

She turned her head to the side before attempting to sidestep him to get around. Before she could move far enough away, both of his hands came down upon her, pulling her body back into his in one quick jerk, making her gasp at the sudden movement.

Muse squirmed a little before his hand rose up to cup her chin gently, tilting her head upward to meet his eyes.

“I won’t always keep away from you in bed, little hummingbird, so you may as well get used to being close to me.”

Before she could speak, his lips were on hers, hot and surprisingly soft. He didn’t try to deepen the kiss, and for that she was grateful. Clay simply moved his lips slowly against hers, forcing her to follow his lead.

When he finally pulled back, his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, gripping it so she couldn’t break eye contact with him.

“Now why are you up so early in the morning?” he asked her.

“W-work.” She’d replied immediately and without thinking. His gaze intensified, and he swallowed thickly.

“You’re not going to work at that lousy diner anymore,” he told her gruffly.

“I like working,” she explained, her voice sounding weak. Too weak to put up much of a resistance. His kiss had surprised her, rendering her brain mush.

“If you want, you can find volunteer or charity work or something. You no longer need to get paid a pittance to slave away taking orders at some 24-hour diner in downtown Tampa at all hours of the day and night.” His thumb started to rub the soft flesh at the base of her neck.

Muse’s breathing was still ragged and uneven, but she was able to find the strength to sass him back anyway in her own fashion. “Fine. I’ll give them my two-weeks’ notice when I go in today,” she compromised. Maybe instead of volunteering or working with charities, she could go back to school.

“You’ll quit immediately,” he countered, his voice becoming hard and harsh again. “I could care less if they are inconvenienced by this. I have enough money for the both of us and the area is...it isn’t safe.”

Muse couldn’t find it in herself to argue with him, so she simply nodded. She planned on going into work anyway, despite her supposed acquiescence and his command. Rod could drop her off. There wasn’t anything dangerous about being dropped off and picked up from the diner afterwards. Clay was just being ridiculous and pigheaded.

Pressing a rough, possessive kiss to her forehead, Clay left her standing in the bedroom, stunned at his mercurial behavior and wondering if there wasn’t indeed a real person with real emotions underneath his icy exterior. 

***

Muse was halfway through her shift before trouble came calling.

Trouble in a fine Armani suit and piercing green eyes.

Rod must have squealed on her, damn it.

Clay’s grey tie was loosened around his neck, and his slicked back hair had come undone from its usually neat pushed-back style to brush against his brows. It made him look slightly unkempt, as if he had run his hands through it before showing up at the diner.

“I thought I told you to quit?” he questioned, his tone gravelly and demanding.

“I gave my two-weeks’ notice when I came in,” she replied. “And Rod can drive me until I get a car. There’s nothing dangerous about that.”

Clay looked down at her and fought against the softening of his face. To be completely truthful, he thought she looked adorable in the little frilly black apron with her hair tied-up in a messy bun and a pencil sticking out of the top.

“I won’t have a fiancée of mine working at an establishment such as this,” he told her, trying to tame the anger he felt at being lied to. She had promised she would quit, though he should have expected her to go behind his back. She was a stubborn woman.

Muse bristled at his words. “Am I an embarrassment to you that I would be working at a diner?” she asked him, a flush creeping up her neck to settle on her face.

“No, but you deserve better than what this place can offer you,” he remarked, his words coming out softly and before he could stop them. The change in demeanor silenced Muse, and her breath hitched in her chest.

“Can I go back to college then?” she asked.

The ticking of his jaw stopped, as if he had completely been thrown by her question. It didn’t last long, and he opened his mouth again. “What for?”

“I’d like to continue getting an education,” she explained. “I worked hard to get a scholarship and grants, and though it’s not Harvard or Yale, I enjoyed my studies. I was good at them.”

Clay ran a hand over his face, deep in thought. “You don’t need to work,” he finally spoke. “I make enough money, and I would like for you to stay at home to take care of our future children.”

Whenever he talked about the future children they would have, it always gave Muse pause. He acted as if having his babies was a sure thing. It made her quite uncomfortable.

While she was thinking that over, Clay’s hand slipped up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of her jaw.

“I’m going to speak to your manager,” he told her before leaning forward a bit. “Be right back.”

Less than five minutes later, Muse found herself without a job for the first time in years. Sighing, she placed her apron in the laundry bin in the back and grabbed her tattered black purse.

Damn Clay’s interfering ass. He had walked out of the manager’s office with a smile and had shaken the other man’s hand, his rare I’ve got work to do here smile plastered all over his face like it always was when he was talking business.

Clay was near the front by the cash register waiting for her when she came out from the back. Once Muse walked up to him, he took her hand gently in his and escorted her out the front door with just a single word being spoken.

“Come.”

It was clear once Clay got into his luxury car that they were heading in the opposite direction of their home.

“Where are we going?” she asked after they had driven for five minutes in stifling silence.

“Shopping,” he answered briefly, his head swiveling as he changed lanes.

“For?”

“Clothing,” he told her. “And lots of it.”

“Oh.” Fair enough. Since he’d had the staff throw away all her old clothes, it was only fair that he replace them.

Pulling up to the outlet, Muse’s face blanched. “Why are we here?” she asked, her voice tremulous. She had been hoping he would simply take her to a simple clothing store instead of the more expensive outlets. Whenever she had gone to there with friends previously, the sales staff always intimidated her. Probably looking and judging her threadbare clothing, just knowing she didn’t belong there.

“You need clothing, this place has a lot of sales personnel who can help you pick things out.” He pulled into a parking spot about halfway between the store and the arterial road it was situated on.

Upon entering the building, there was a woman in a knee-length skirt and pale blue blouse standing there waiting to greet them.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the woman said as her eyes roved over his figure. Probably wondering what such a well-dressed man was doing with a younger female who was wearing nothing spectacular. “My name is Leslie. How may I be of assistance today?”

Clay pierced the woman with a cold, keen eye. “My fiancée needs an entirely new wardrobe. Dresses, skirts, shoes. Underthings as well. The works.”

“Certainly,” the woman said, looking over at Muse and inspecting her from top to bottom. Thankfully, Muse felt no judgement from the woman, only the discerning stare of someone trying to figure something out. “Please come with me.”

Muse was startled when Clay took her hand again and followed them both. She was surprised that he was coming along with her. And so eagerly as well.

Leslie wrangled another one of her co-workers to assist with handing clothing to Muse and helping her dress at times. Some of the dresses had higher backs, and she couldn’t zip them up completely by herself.

After trying on each item of clothing or an entire outfit, Clay insisted on inspecting it. Slacks and blouses, skirts and dresses. Anything deemed appropriate and looked fine on her went off to the side until they could be purchased with Clay’s plastic.

“Why would I need this dress again?” Muse’s voice asked as she called out to Clay.

“It’s a gown, not a dress,” he called to her. “And you will need several. Dinners, office functions, the occasional charitable event. Are you done in there yet?”

Muse sighed. The dress was pretty but so...bright. She had never liked wearing such vibrant colors. And the bodice dipped down too low for her taste. Her bosom seemed to swell to gargantuan proportions.

“I am.” She pushed aside the curtain to walk out to the man.

Clay was pacing the floor in front of the private dressing rooms, his hand running over his chin thoughtfully as he waited.

“How’s this?” she asked as she walked into view.

Muse felt timid and awkward as she walked out of the dressing room, her face not quite knowing whether to look at Clay or watch the finely polished floors of the store with feigned interest.

Clay’s gaze darkened as his body stopped its pacing, his eyes roaming over her figure. The dress was low-cut in a sweetheart-shaped neckline, the center dipping into a plunging ‘V’ between her breasts. The sheer material of the bodice gathered at the waist before flaring out at the hips. The orange coloring only added to the olive tone of her skin. Her eyes were wide, questioning him. Seeking his approval possibly?

Before he could stop himself, Clay was moving toward her, all thoughts of his earlier anger with her forgotten. Hands gripping her hips firmly, his head dipped lower until his lips met with hers. His kiss was no longer sweet and soft. It was hungry. Greedy even. It assaulted her senses, and Muse started to feel a bit dizzy until she realized she had been holding her breath.

Breaking apart, she took a gasp of air before she was startled by his words.

“You look absolutely stunning.” His lips brushed hers again, they were so close as he spoke. His minty breath washed over her face, and she almost shivered at the fierce intensity of his eyes boring into hers.

A throat cleared, and Clay looked up past Muse’s shoulder. Leslie’s assistant was waiting for them to tell her whether or not he liked the dress. And he did indeed.

“Keep it,” he said with a nod to the assistant. “And bring her more.”

Clay was polite enough to let Muse shop for underwear on her own. If truth be told, he was afraid he’d want to ask her to model the panty and bra sets as well, and he didn’t think f*****g Muse in public would sit well with his new fiancée.

Or the store associates and management. They were at a store, after all—not a s*x shop or house of ill-repute.

“Is that it?” he asked when Muse finally came over with a small assortment of panties and bras. There were maybe ten sets at most. He scanned the small array and frowned before looking up at her askance.

“Yes, why would I need more?” she asked, puzzled.

“In the event that any of them became ripped or otherwise unwearable,” he told her as he moved slowly toward her. He was almost feline in his movements. Stalking her as if she were prey.

He watched as her breath halted in her chest.

“I-I...don’t think that’s very likely,” she told him, her voice sounding shrill.

“Oh, but indeed it’s very possible, little hummingbird,” he told her as he drew even closer to her.

“Why do you call me that?” she questioned, trying to smooth out breathing. His close proximity always made her tense and a little breathless. He was so commanding in everything he did that it set off alarm bells in her head and her teeth on edge.

He made a humming sound in his throat, considering his response to her question. “The way you move, quick and light. It reminds me of a hummingbird. Plus, I don’t know if you realize this, but you hum a lot.”

“I-I do?” she asked. She had been told that before by her brother, but she hadn’t realized she’d done it Clay’s presence, or that he would even notice if she had.

“Yes, you do.” He placed a firm hand on her shoulder before sliding it up to her neck. “Now, go back and get more panties and bras. Threefold or I’ll go back there and pick them out myself.”

She nodded at him, agreeing, and broke away from his gaze before heading back to the intimate apparel section of the store.

***

“Stupid phone!” Muse exclaimed. It wouldn’t allow her to make any outgoing calls or text messages. It kept telling her to contact customer service instead.

Clay looked over at her briefly before making a call on his own cell. “Jim, is it done?” he asked, glancing over at Muse quickly. “Of course. We should be home in about twenty minutes or so.”

Muse cursed and scowled at her battered piece of technology.

“Problems?” he asked as he sped down the highway toward their home in Gulfview.

“My phone won’t work,” she complained, her lips twisting into a frown. “I wanted to call my brother and make sure everything was okay at home.”

Clay didn’t correct her by saying that her home was with him now. He knew she was still getting used to being away from the only home she’d ever known, and he was trying. Trying his damnedest not to cross her at every turn.

It was an uphill battle if there ever was one.

“Well, I told you that you would need a new one pretty soon,” he pointed out with a barely-there smirk.

“I know, I know,” she grumped. “But this one has all my pictures on it.”

“I’ll have Jim get them downloaded so you can store them elsewhere,” he offered.

She looked over at him, still uncertain. “Why are you being so nice to me all of the sudden?” she questioned. “You acted as if I was your property yesterday. Like I was some puppy in need of potty training. You’re completely different today.”

Clay didn’t know how to respond to that, and simply settled on clearing his throat. “I’m trying, Muse. It’s difficult for a man of my age to try and change, no matter what the circumstance.”

“Just how old are you?” she asked, surprised she didn’t know already. “You speak as if you’re in your dotage and not young and still virile.” She didn’t know why she had said it quite that way. It suited him most assuredly. Along with so many other adjectives.

“I’m 32,” he told her. “I know you are 21, but I don’t know when your birthday is.”

“It’s in the summertime. July 30th. Yours?”

“November 29th,” he immediately answered. “You’re a Leo. That somehow doesn’t surprise me.”

“What does surprise me is that you take any of that zodiac crap to heart,” she quipped, a small smile tipping her lips upward.

He ignored her comment. “Leo’s are bold, theatrical, a bit dramatic,” he explained. “It rather suits you. Sagitariuses are argumentative and reckless. Quick to anger at times, but fair-minded.”

He glanced over at her again and saw her smile. He was definitely all of those things, and both of them knew it all too well.

He let the moment pass, and Clay reached over with a hand and placed it on her thigh.

“After dinner, we’ll go get you a new phone,” he assured her. “And drop that old dinosaur into the drink. No one should possess a Nokia from 2005 anymore.”

“It’s an LG,” she protested.

“It’s a f*****g flip phone,” he told her. “I thought those went out with the advent of the iPhone.”

She ignored his jab at her outdated technology and asked about her clothing. “When will the clothing come?” she asked, worried about the prospect of having to wear the same negligee as the night before or going to bed nude.

“Later on this evening,” he answered. “They are laundering and then delivering them, but they should be here around 8 PM.”

“I didn’t know that place did same-day delivery,” she mused. “Or have laundry service, for that matter.”

“They do for the right amount of money.”

She looked over at him for a moment, wistful. “Must be nice,” she remarked. “To have had money all your life. It certainly beats living hand to mouth most days.”

He shrugged. “It has its benefits, but wealth is not all it’s cracked up to be. Like anything else, it has its downsides.”

“Like?”

He cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat. If Muse didn’t know any better, she would have thought the question made him uncomfortable.

“Like not knowing whether people are friendly to you for your wealth or for your sparkling personality,” he quipped with a wry grin.

Muse couldn’t help but laugh. They were pulling away from the nearby housing division onto one of the private roads by then, but Muse found she wanted the conversation to continue.

“Any other downsides?” she asked.

“Women,” he told her without pause. “Many would try to trap a man of my stature so they could live a luxurious lifestyle. They don’t want to work and may think that marrying me would only be f*****g, with the occasional event to be attended. It… There’s much more to it than that.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a slight pause.

“No need to be,” he told her. “You… It’s obvious you aren’t like that. Painfully obvious.”

“How so?” she questioned.

“Well, first off, you want to work, no matter what the job. You would like to attend college again—which we can talk about at another time, and—” He looked over at her with a smirk. “You haven’t f****d me yet, so there’s no possibility of entrapment.”

Muse drew in a deep breath. They were pulling up the driveway, and the conversation was teetering on awkward, as it always eventually seemed to.

She kept her silence and got out of the car once Clay had parked. He came around to the other side of the vehicle and took her hand in his.

“Come,” he told her. “I have a surprise waiting for you inside.”