The Collection by Shannon Stoker Page A

happy to show it off. One of the television reporters had asked to schedule a tour, thinking the people would love to see the great house.
    â€œI’m sorry, boss,” Rex said. “Good speech. That must have been hard.”
    â€œIt was,” Grant said. “I should never have split up the team. My gut told me she was in the Gila Bend area. If I’d had you with me none of this would have happened.”
    â€œWe can still make it right,” Rex said.
    â€œNo,” Grant said. “I’m forbidden from leaving the country. There are more pressing matters at play.”
    â€œThan your pride?” Rex asked. “I’ve been doing some research.”
    Grant hunched his shoulders down and put a defeated look on his face. He glanced around the property to make sure nobody was in view. Then he brought his arm up and nailed his employee in the gut. This caught Rex off guard, and the large man fell to his knees with his arms around his stomach.
    â€œI didn’t lose,” Grant said.
    He left Rex on the grass.
    â€œDon’t forget your place,” Grant said. “I’m still the one in charge.”
    With those final words Grant walked into his giant house alone. He closed the door behind him and an echo sounded through the halls. He made his way toward the stairs, which were gold plated and lined with red carpeting. The whole house was red and gold, the colors of his country.
    â€œSir,” Brandon, Grant’s chief of staff, said, “it was a perfect ceremony. My condolences again. Can I bring you something to eat?”
    â€œNo,” Grant said. He didn’t bother to turn around and continued up the steps.
    One of the main reasons he wanted a wife was so she could handle the staff. Housework was a woman’s concern. Most men weren’t willing to let their wives have a job, and Grant didn’t think he wanted the type of woman who would be in his employment. Grant’s wife should have been the one dealing with Brandon.
    Grant turned down the hallway and into his bedroom. This room was the third largest in the house. He went straight for his closet, pulling off his suit in the process, feeling instant relief. Grant checked the cell phone he’d left there, upset that there was no call. Next he dressed in his normal attire—today it was blue plaid shorts and a baby-blue polo. He slid on his moccasins and left the pile of dirty clothes in the closet, knowing Brandon would pick them up later. He was the only servant permitted in Grant’s room.
    He was starting out of the closet when his pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone and didn’t recognize the number.
    â€œHello,” Grant said.
    â€œPlease hold for the capital,” a woman’s voice said. The call switched to music.
    Grant hated that women could work for the government but not for private citizens. Even though Grant was a government contractor he didn’t have the right to that supply of workers. If he had then maybe a wife wouldn’t have been necessary at all; he could employ the unmarried to run his household for him.
    â€œGrant,” the grand commander said.
    â€œSir,” Grant said. “This is unexpected.”
    â€œYou’ve done well,” he said. “And that was expected. I’d like for you to come to the capital tomorrow. After lunch.”
    There was a click. The line went dead. Grant smiled; the grand commander was all business. Grant appreciated that. The personal phone call raised his spirits. His plan had been to head down to the workshop and start tinkering with inventions. He didn’t see that happening anymore. The invitation to the capital would make it too hard to concentrate. Grant was thrilled. He tried to remember the last time he was this happy.
    As a child in one of the government orphanages Grant was well liked by most of the boys and his teachers, but that didn’t mean the feelings were reciprocated. He was much