His Perfect BabyA Miracle Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  Annoyed, I quickly call Mack up. He answers on the third ring.

  “Locks!” he says. “What do you want? I thought you were too busy to talk right now.”

  “I just got a really strange message, Mack. From The Syndicate. Know about it?”

  There’s a pause, and for a second I think we got disconnected. When Mack finally speaks, he sounds hurried and distracted.

  “Let’s meet for lunch,” he says. “I’m buying. We’ll talk about it then.”

  “Mack,” I grumble. “You know I can’t. Just tell me what the deal is with this.”

  “We can’t talk about it over the phone,” he says softly. “Luciano’s at two. Okay?”

  I pause, head cocked. What’s so damn important that we can’t talk about it over the phone?

  But then again, the message did say that it was very private. It wasn’t threatening, not exactly, but there’s always a veiled threat when secrecy is involved. It’s always keep this secret, or else.

  I have to admit, I’m intrigued. Mack has good taste and has never steered me wrong before. Plus, this secrecy thing has me interested. I want to know more about it now just because I’m not supposed to talk about it.

  “Fine,” I say. “You’re definitely buying.”

  “See you then.” He hangs up quickly.

  I put my phone down and shake my head, not sure what to make of this.

  It’s out of nowhere. I was at a party with Mack maybe two months ago, before this merger got too insane. We were talking about women and relationships, and he did say something a little strange. He mentioned paying top dollar for a girlfriend at the time, which I assumed meant that he just pays for lunches and hotel rooms. I laughed and said I was always looking for a deal.

  Maybe this is what he was talking about. Maybe he meant he literally pays top dollar.

  I’ve never bought pussy before. I never had to. But then again, Mack never has either, or at least I didn’t think he needed to. He’s around my age, a little less rich, but still pretty handsome. I’ve never seen him struggle bringing a woman home before.

  If he’s paying for it from these people, it must be serious. Still, the idea of paying for it just seems so strange and foreign to me.

  The day passes quickly as I dive back into work. It’s one forty-five by the time I look up again and have to practically run downstairs to get into the company car that takes me over to Luciano’s, a little Italian place on the edge of town.

  I’m uncertain as I climb out of the car and instruct the driver to wait for me. I don’t think I’ll stay the whole lunch, considering the mountain of paperwork I have back at the office waiting for me. Besides, this whole thing is about prostitutes, and I’m just... not that interested.

  I feel strangely nervous as I step into Luciano’s. I’m not sure why, since Mack is one of my closest friends, but there’s something about this whole thing that has me on edge. The hostess points me to a private booth in the back corner, away from the normal lunch crowd.

  I slide into the booth across from Mack. “Didn’t think you’d show,” he says.

  “I keep my appointments.” He grins and we shake hands.

  Mack has that young boyish charm about him. His beard is close cropped and trimmed, and he always looks very put together. I remember when he first got started, the guy couldn’t wear anything but sweatshirts and jeans. Now he’s in a three-piece suit with an expensive watch. It’s almost like that programmer punk from back in the day doesn’t exist anymore.

  I’ve changed over the years, too. I’m just as driven as I once was, but all my youthful naiveté has been beaten out of me. You don’t get this far in business without learning how the world works and how to master it. That inevitably changes a man.

  “So, what’s good here?” I ask him.

  “The martinis.” He grins.

  “Can’t. I have work to do.”

  “I bet. All the more reason.” Mack signals at the waitress and she brings over two drinks, obviously already prepared.

  I sigh and take mine, thanking her, and take a sip. It’s a good martini, and I can’t help but wonder why Mack is buttering me up.

  “Okay, Ethan,” he says. “Before you yell at me, just listen.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t going to yell.”

  “You have that look.”

  “What look?”

  “You know the one.” He smirks at me. “It’s the ‘I’m a disappointed CEO’ look. Doesn’t work on me, but it can be fucking intimidating anyway.”

  “Didn’t know I had a look,” I say, laughing. “But go ahead. Give me your pitch.”

  He leans toward me, getting serious all of a sudden. “The pitch is simple. You won’t be disappointed.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

  He nods. “That’s it. If you do this thing, you won’t be disappointed.”

  “I’m a little disappointed right now. I expected some kind of hard sell.”

  “I don’t need to,” he says, shrugging. “Truth is, you’re lucky to get invited.”

  “Lucky?” I give him a look. “I don’t need to pay for pussy, you know.”

  “Oh, I know that.” He sips his martini and eyes me. “But that’s not what we’re talking about.”

  I pause, not sure what he means. “The text said an auction,” I say.

  “It’s an auction and it’s for women, but it’s not just for pussy.”

  “What else to they do?” I ask. “Clean your house?”

  “Maybe,” he says, a serious look on his face. “Truth is, man, they’ll do whatever you want. For as long as you’re paying. And these girls, they’re beautiful. Untouched. Unspoiled. They’re not a bunch of old pros. They’re... special.”

  I can’t help but laugh and shake my head. He’s talking like he’s in love with these girls or something. They’re still just people, just women, and I can’t imagine that they’re anything amazing.

  I have to admit, I was picturing a bunch of old and used-up hookers, but that’s probably not fair. High-end escorts tend to be young and beautiful. But he’s making it sound like these are real virgins or something like that.

  “Have you gone?” I ask him.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Why?” I ask, mystified. “You don’t have trouble bringing women home.”

  “It’s hard to explain,” he says softly. “When you buy these girls... you own them. It’s like every fantasy you’ve ever had all rolled into one, and you get them for as long as you want them.”

  “I don’t have time to buy anyone,” I say, laughing again, although Mack doesn’t find it funny. “This just isn’t the time.”

  “This is the perfect time. Whoever you bring home will be there, in your house, waiting for you. If you don’t touch her, that’s your choice, and it won’t matter. This is no work, no fuss, no bullshit. Just an attractive companion that’s down for anything.”

  I have to admit, he’s making it sound enticing. Maybe it’s the martini, but I do like the idea of a beautiful woman waiting for me to come home, ready to be dominated and willing to do whatever I ask of her.

  I finish my martini in one quick motion. “Last question. This Syndicate. Are they dangerous?”

  He nods once. “They are. But only if you cross them. If you decide not to attend, just delete the message and never speak of this again. Including to me.”

  “You’re serious?” I ask.

  “I’m very serious.”

  “Okay then,” I say. “This is the last time we’ll talk about it.” I slide out of the booth and stand up.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Mack says.

  “I’m not so sure that I am.”

  “You are.” He stares me in the eye. “Go to the auction. Trust me. You won’t regret it.”

  I watch him for a second. “I’ll see you later, Mack.”

  He nods and goes back to his martini as I leave the restaurant and head back outside. The driver is still waiting for me
, and I climb into the back of the car.

  For the rest of the day, I can’t stop thinking about what Mack said. He seemed so earnest, so serious, and it’s hard to ignore that sort of thing. Mack isn’t the type of man to bullshit or exaggerate. If he says something is a certain way, you can be pretty damn sure that it’s a certain way.

  Which makes it so intriguing. Even more than that, the fact that The Syndicate is dangerous, and how seriously he takes them, makes me even more fascinated. This is a secret world hiding underneath our world, and I’m being given a glimpse. I can choose to turn back and ignore it all, or I can dive in and join it.

  I don’t know why I can’t get it out of my head. I have been stressed lately, very stressed, and maybe a little meaningless sex will do me good. I could use the release at the very least. Mack makes it sound like a gift from heaven or something like that, and maybe he’s right.

  It’s around two in the morning by the time I finish my day’s work and break out a bottle of whisky. I pour a drink into a glass and kick my feet up on my desk. There’s a couch against the far wall and my own private bathroom with a shower, and I know I’ll be sleeping on that couch and showering in that shower again tonight. I could go home, but I have to be here at five anyway. No point in wasting time that I could be using on sleep.

  But I don’t feel like sleeping. I read the message on my phone again and go over the conversation with Mack as I sip my drink. I keep picturing women, beautiful women, but that’s not all. I keep seeing this one perfect girl in my head. She’s petite, quiet, maybe even a little shy, but sexy as all hell. She’s willing to do anything for me. She’ll let me dominate her, control her, work her body, and she’ll give back as much as she possibly can.

  And all I have to do is show up and buy her. No work beyond that. No messy flirting or awkward ending. I buy her, we spend our time together, and then it’s over. No attachment and no issues.

  The idea of paying for sex still seems strange to me, but I can’t help myself. Everything is pushing me toward this moment. I get out my phone and text the number back, agreeing to their terms.

  I sit there, staring at my phone, not sure what I just did.

  But most of all, I’m excited at the prospect of entering into something new. I don’t know what will happen next, but I’m trusting Mack. I hope I’m not disappointed.

  2

  Aria

  I don’t know what I’m doing here.

  I cross my arms nervously, too aware of my own body, almost mortified of the dress I’m wearing. It’s black, dark like my long hair, and makes my blue eyes look even brighter. It’s tight and low cut in the front and back and leaves very, very little to the imagination.

  That’s the point, of course, but still. All of the other girls around me are wearing similar dresses, except they’re all gorgeous. Dark-skinned girls, light-skinned girls, red hair and blonde hair and everything else. The girls are from everywhere imaginable, and they’re all absolutely beautiful.

  Except me, of course. I feel too plain to be standing in this room. I’m just a normal waitress, for fuck’s sake! Sure, I’ve been living with the girls for a couple weeks, but that doesn’t make me like them.

  I don’t know how I ended up here, in this place. It’s not that bad, honestly. The Syndicate offered me very, very good terms and they treat me very well. They haven’t pushed me into anything and it was my choice to enter into this auction. I still can’t believe it’s come to this, but I’m desperate, so desperate, and I’m willing to do whatever I have to do to survive.

  I need money, and I need it fast. It’s as simple as that. I have no other choice but to enter into a contract with a strange man. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get paid.

  The room is actually very nice. It’s like a lounge area, with tables, chairs, and couches all over. It’s richly furnished and there’s a bar toward the back offering free drinks. We were told not to get too drunk, or else we’d be tossed out, and so most of the girls are just nervously sipping their drinks. I can tell most of them are in the same position as me, very uncomfortable and unsure of themselves, but some seem like they’re regulars.

  I bite my lip and look down at the lovely carpet, not sure what to do with myself. We’re meant to pass time in this room until our name is called. Once we’re called, we go out into the auction room. I was told that I’m supposed to just stand there and look straight ahead. I won’t even see the men that are bidding on me until it’s all over.

  So I’ll see the man that buys me for the first time only after I’m sold to him.

  I can leave at any time. The Syndicate doesn’t keep us here against our will. They made it clear that they don’t want girls that will make trouble, and everyone has been vetted to the highest level possible. My demons almost kept me out of this place, but in the end they decided that they liked me enough to let it slide.

  I don’t know why, but I’m happy they did. I think.

  At the end of this, I might walk away with enough money to pay off my debts completely. I can leave at any time, so this could easily be a one-time deal. The girl that recommended me said that I’d end up wanting to do it forever once the money started, but I don’t know about that.

  “Nervous?”

  I’m pulled out of my thoughts and look to my side. A gorgeous girl with blonde hair smiles at me. She’s a little taller than me and wears a tight blue bodycon dress. She looks beautiful and for a second, she makes me a little self-conscious.

  “Yeah,” I admit. “I can’t help it.”

  She smiles. “Me too.”

  “What are you nervous about? You’re gorgeous.”

  She laughs lightly. “Thanks. But I’ve never done this before.”

  “Really?” I ask. “I haven’t, either.”

  “Please. You look way too sexy to be a first timer like me.”

  “I am,” I say, suddenly relieved that someone is talking to me. Over toward the door, another name is called out, and a tall girl walks out of the room.

  “I’m Lisa,” my new friend says.

  “Aria.”

  “Pretty name.” She looks around the room. “How do you think... this works?” she asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what if nobody bids on me?”

  “Oh,” I say. “I don’t know. I guess you just go home.”

  “Can it be that simple?”

  I shrug. “So far, I think so. They’re nice.”

  “They are very nice,” she says. “Did you know that only rich men can bid on us?”

  “I didn’t, actually,” I say, a little surprised.

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard. This is only for very wealthy men. It’s why we’re treated so well. They don’t want a bunch of abused girls getting involved with these men. We’re supposed to be professionals.”

  “I don’t feel like a professional,” I admit. “I just feel nervous.”

  “Yeah,” she says, laughing lightly. “Me too. But we’ll get through this, right?”

  I nod. “Right. Of course.”

  Just talking a little bit to Lisa loosens me up a little bit. She smiles at me. “We’ll talk later. Good luck. There’s a glass of wine with my name on it.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  She walks off toward the bar and I watch her go. My mind drifts back to the task at hand and the temporary reprieve from the nervousness is suddenly gone, and it floods back in.

  But I don’t have long to wallow in it, because a couple minutes after Lisa walks away, the man at the door calls my name.

  “Aria!”

  It pierces through me like an arrow. I freeze, unable to breathe, as I stare at the man. He looks around the room for a second, eyebrow cocked, and I can’t move. I’m petrified.

  “Aria!” he says again. “You’re up!”

  I take a step. And then another. And soon I find myself walking quickly toward him. Being careful in my high heels. They make my ass look great but they hurt my feet like crazy.
He nods and takes my elbow.

  “This is easy,” the man says. He’s young, maybe in his thirties, with a long ponytail and a thin face. “I’m going to put you in a room right in the middle. Then a bunch of lights will come on. You stand there and wait. Men will be looking at you, so don’t pick your nose. You’ll be asked to turn, please obey. When it’s done, you’ll be taken into another room where you’ll meet your client. Understand?”

  “I understand,” I say. “But how long will they get me?”

  “Let’s see,” he says, looking at his clipboard. “You’re up for... one month.”

  “One month?” I ask, surprised.

  “That’s the minimum amount.” He shrugs. “You’ll do fine.”

  “One month,” I repeat, shocked. I assumed it was for a few days, maybe a couple weeks. But a whole month?

  I don’t have a chance to argue, because we step into another room and he takes me into the middle. He places me there.

  “Good luck,” he says. “They’re watching now.”

  He turns and leaves. The room is dark, very dark, except for some lights in the floor. I think there are mirrors all around me, but I can’t be sure. I see vague outlines of figures, maybe ten of them. A minute later, a bright light flares on, spotlighting me and blinding me to everything else.

  I can hear some murmuring, like conversations happening far away, but I can’t understand them. I fold my hands in front of me and wait, trying not to freak out.

  What the hell am I doing? I don’t know the first thing about being an escort, let alone being one for an entire month. They explained it to me at the beginning, that I’d be bought by a man and that I’d do whatever he wants for however long he gets me. I’d take home seventy percent of the money, which is generous considering how much we’re sold for, although I’m not really sure exactly how much that is. I assume it’s a lot, but I don’t really know anything.

  Then, once I’m bought, I service him. Some men want sex, some want companionship, and very rarely men want something in between. I’m to provide whatever he needs. That will be my job for the duration of my stay with him. I’m his property.