Come Undone - A Standalone Bad Boy Romance Novel

by Gabi Moore

  “You want me to do what?” Medea asked the older woman who sat behind the big desk in the enormous office. Jesus, did the government pay for all of this?

  “Your president wants you to infiltrate the latest Torzinite ring we’ve uncovered,” she explained.

  Mrs. Carpenter, who always wanted everyone to know that the “Mrs.” prefix was to be used, was a career officer who’d been a legend in her day. She found the first Torzinite cell before there was any formal contact between the aliens and humans. The word around the office had her busting their first operation when she found out the human traffickers were about to ship her into outer space and not to the kingdom of some oil rich human dictator. No one ever did find out how she discovered her final destination, but the evidence she brought back to the agency came very close to starting an interplanetary war.

  “Another group of Torzinites?” Medea asked. “Isn’t this the sixth one this year?”

  The news media was full of stories of young, impressionable women seduced into the arms of strong men who turned out not to be human. By the time they woke up, the silk sheets were gone and they were in chains with an ownership number tattooed on their ankle. It was hard to prove the sale wasn’t “voluntary” at that stage. Before they could voice a complaint, most of them were in the harem of some off-world warlord.

  “I think we’ll find more if you get inside this one and discover where they’re stashing the women they buy,” she told Medea. “I met with the president last night and he wants more evidence of treaty violations. We bring it to him, he can slam it down on the negotiation table and show the other governments the aliens are violating every point of the treaty the UN signed five years ago.”

  Once the presence of aliens on Earth was made clear to the other nations, the outrage almost gave the United Nations full war powers. The aliens were accused of exploiting innocent and impressionable women who wanted a better life. Several governments nearly went down in revolutions when it came to light that the ministers were paid to look the other way while the Torzinites shipped women to their distant star system. When the knowledge went public, three orbital stations identified as belonging to the aliens were destroyed by missiles before the crew could evacuate. The Torzinites demanded payment and compensation for their losses. They claimed no human women were taken off world without due process. They claimed they had to work in secret because the humans didn’t want them on their precious soil.

  Both species were locked in a dead heat over the presence of the Torzinites on Earth. The aliens wanted the women; the humans needed their technology. Early contacts between the two were productive, but the good feelings between them evaporated when the nations of Earth found out what the aliens really wanted. The Torzinites were from a planet where the female part of their race was a rare thing due to a genetic abnormality. It had taken place thousands of years ago. The ratio of women to men was in the nature of one thousand to one. When the aliens discovered Earth, they found a goldmine. No longer would whole nations fight each other to the death over the dwindling supply of women. Best of all, the two species were compatible and Torzinite men could produce children with human women. It should have solved both species’ problems.

  But it didn’t.

  The Torzinites found it was easy to obtain working-class human women for the right amount of funds and did so without telling anyone. The women they obtained could live lives of luxury on the home worlds, but enough of them wanted to return to Earth to cause a problem. When the governments of Earth found out what had taken place, they were outraged. The immediate return of all terrestrial women was demanded or war would be declared. The Torzinites claimed the human women taken off world were happy and saw no reason to comply. A treaty was eventually signed after a Torzinites trading post on the moon was destroyed by a nuclear weapon. It later turned out the trading post housed two hundred women from Earth awaiting transfer to the Torzinite home worlds.

  In the aftermath of the catastrophe, a delegation from each species negotiated a treaty in terrestrial orbit. A set number of human females would be allowed to travel to the Torzinites worlds in return for access to alien technology. No Torzinites presence would be allowed on Earth. If one were discovered, it would be grounds for war.

  “They are risking another war for this?” Medea asked her director, smoothing out her skirt as she sat in the chair. “Do they want to lose all access to women from Earth?”

  “We don’t think the governments in their home worlds have full control over these posts,” Mrs. Carpenter told her. “It may be smugglers. Remember the ratios they claim? Each woman they can send back pays for the trip many times over. We may be two women on the street here in Philadelphia, but to the Torzinites, we’re made of silver.”

  Medea pulled the car over to a full stop in front of the mansion at the top of the hill.

  If the trade in human wives was as good as they suspected, the Torzinites were spending their money to attract new prospects. They had video evidence proving that the aliens were scouting through the poorer sections of the cities under the guise of “overseas” recruiters for domestic jobs. They prized women with a reasonable amount of education and virgins brought a premium on the market. One lady who was recruited before college returned to her family on Earth loaded down with gifts and cash. But just as many of the others were bored in the home worlds and found a reason to come home. Mistreatment and deceit were two reasons for the ban.

  A manservant took the car from Medea as she stepped out.

  She adjusted her business jacket. Her cover was of a recently divorced woman interested in the job advertised on-line for a hostess on a cruise liner in Italy. The agency tapped the ad as a front for an alien recruitment firm when they investigated it and found out that the cruise line was bogus. She was wired for sound and video with the best recording devices the agency could afford. This would be the crown of the investigation and would provide the executive branch with what it needed to return to the beginning table. If the aliens wanted human women so much, they could damn well pay in gold.

  “Mr. Eglise will see you in the foyer,” the servant said to her as she handed him the keys. “My name is Simon and I will park your car for you. The interview should last only an hour and if you decide not to take the position I will bring the car around.”

  Medea thanked him and took her purse out of the car as her heels clicked on the marble steps. Someone wanted to make a good first impression, she realized, as she approached the double doors to the mansion. She was a little perturbed about the assumption she might take the job on the spot. This wasn’t a good idea under any circumstance. It told her someone was desperate to have the slot filled. In one sense, it was good for her, because it allowed her some bargaining room. If they wanted someone that bad, they might not be looking too carefully into whom they hired.

  She put her hand out to rap on the door, but another handsome young man opened it for her. This one appeared to be of a northern European background, while the man who took her car looked Asian. He held the door open as she walked in and looked the antechamber over.

  “Please wait here, Ma’am,” he said to her. “Mr. Eglise will be by in a minute. Are you thirsty or need to use the powder room?”

  Powder room? Did people still use that term? What kind of place was this? She looked around at the travertine on the walls and the inlaid tile on the floor. They’d discovered that the mansion was purchased three months ago and that the help was hired through an employment agency. Which meant this work was all accomplished by the former owner, a mutual fund broker from New York City who needed a place to stash his girlfriends. The FTC caught up with him during an insider trading investigation and the house went empty for several years before the current occupant rented it. Given they were deep in the Pocono Mountains, he’d gone to a lot of trouble to establish himself.

  “Your shoes, Ma’am?” The servant held out his hand.

  Medea was still in awe of the place and hadn’t even respon
ded to the first question.

  “Please, Ma’am, your shoes. Mr. Eglise doesn’t allow his interviewees to wear shoes in the house. I can provide you with a pair of flip-flops if you want.”

  “No, that will be all right,” she told him, slipping off her department store pumps and handing them to the servant. The air was warm this time of year and she could go barefoot. Oh, thank god. She’d remembered to have her feet done before the trip up here. She glanced down and made sure her nails on her hands matched. At least she didn’t forget to tell the nail lady to have them both done the same color.

  “Was you trip difficult?” she heard a voice call to her from a doorway.

  Medea turned to see a tall man in a tailored suit standing in the entrance to a private office. He appeared to be in his thirties and wore a pair of mirror shade sunglasses. His skin hue appeared normal, but makeup could hide texture. What it couldn’t hide was the shape of his eyes. The aliens had very distinct eyes, which resembled that of a cat. The best guess involved their evolution on a planet where the sun was not as intense as Earth. It accounted for their tendency to wear sunglasses. The simply could not tolerate the level of ultraviolet radiation humans were accustomed to. The only time they were ever seen without the shades was at night. Still, she thought it obvious why he wore them indoors in the late afternoon. Perhaps he felt the effect was not so dramatic with them on.

  “Please come into my office,” he said to her, holding the door open, “I’m sorry about the regulations involving shoes, but I have a particular aversion to dirt.”

  Another thing she’d read about the aliens was their obsessive-compulsive attitude toward contamination from germs. The reading she’d done seemed to indicate they didn’t have any contagion problems with Earth microbes, but the sex ratio on their home worlds were skewed because of some rare disease, which caused them to develop and intense fear toward contamination.

  Medea walked across the tile, which felt cool on her feet. She walked past her potential employer, and target, as he continued to hold the door open. As she went past him, Medea felt the heat from his body on her face. The aliens were equipped with a higher body temperature, which was another way they could be identified. Women who made love with them described the sensation as having a hot water spray turned inside you. Not painful, but much more intense than the sensation of a human male’s climax.

  She sat down on a leather chair across from a desk made from one piece of wood. As Eglise sat down and reclined back in the chair, he felt comfortable enough to remove his glasses. He sat them down on the desk in front of him and regarded Medea with the feline eyes of his species. She felt as if her body was under the examination lens of a microscope. He looked her over with care and, from his expression, liked what he saw. Medea wondered if he could sense the recording devices in her clothes.

  Her eyes took the room in with one glance. It was decorated by some name designer out of Manhattan, she knew, the man flown in for a month just to bring the mansion up to the new owner’s standards. Leather chairs provided guests in his office a place to sit and the paintings on the walls were all from notable, abstract expressionists. The Torzinites didn’t understand terrestrial arts and bought abstracts whenever they could. The intense color patterns pleased their eyes, as they could see into different parts of the spectrum than human eyes could.

  “What attracted you to the position?” he asked her. “Have you worked as a cruise hostess before?”

  The real job was not advertised, he informed her. He needed a hostess for business parties in the Poconos. Medea knew the agency had watched the location for months after the new owner took up residence and pounced on the opportunity to send someone into the place. The ad had many code words that people who made their living as sex workers would recognize and would know how to respond. The agency was aware of the clandestine cues for “curvy and attractive woman” and “strong nocturnal social skills”. When Medea found out what would be expected of her during the mission, she almost turned down the assignment. That is until she realized Mrs. Carpenter had once busted a drug trading operation by posing as a call girl for three months. She didn’t shy from the demands of her role and expected no less from Medea.

  “I like pleasing men,” she told him. “It’s something I’ve always been good at and never had a complaint. I like money too and need more than I have. What do my duties entail, Sir?”

  “You duties will entail your absolute obedience to me,” he explained to Medea. The prospective employer looked at the resume. “Molly. Is that your real name? I think you should have another one if you work for me. Would you mind being called Monique? I think it fits you.”

  Medea didn’t like the faux French names that were so popular among the successful people where she came of age. She was from the north side of Philadelphia. Her mother was an African Studies professor and made sure her daughter stayed on the straight and narrow. Her father, who was white, didn’t see her much as her mother and him split up soon after she was born. Her father’s family was odd to her and she had little to do with the wealthy relatives out in Bucks County.

  “If I would want you to entertain some foreign dignitary’s afterhours,” he said, “would this be a problem? You will be well compensated and they will have limits as you will be my property so long as you work here.”

  That spells it out, she thought. Thank god for the extra antibiotic shots before I left. I can’t imagine what kind of men will be at this place. “I wouldn’t have a problem with it,” she lied to him. “What kind of work do you perform here, Sir, that so many people visit you from overseas?”

  “You are never to ask what I do,” he made clear from behind his desk. “That is rule number two. Rule number one is that you are to do what you are told. Rule three is to keep yourself presentable. Follow these rules and your stay here will be enjoyable. But since you asked, I bring women here from overseas for marriage. There are many men who have a hard time finding the right woman and I can arrange it for them for the right fee. It’s something you might consider if you decided you want to advance your status. Keep it in mind.”

  This was the closest she would receive to an admission of what he did for a living. Mr. Eglise was a procurement agent for the off-world aliens, she knew by now. All she had to do was collect the evidence and her career would be secure. Perhaps she could get the information she needed before she had to stay here very long.

  “Does this job still interest you?” he said.

  He had his answer when he quoted her a weekly salary. Medea, now Monique, nearly fell out of her chair. It was ten times her pay as a government agent. Was he serious?

  “I see you are surprised by the amount,” he said to her. “You will find I can be a very generous man when you get to know me. Is this a yes?”

  “I’d be crazy not to take it,” she told him, her feet swinging in the air, as they did not touch the floor. Monique was on the short side, barely five feet tall and she did have some extra cushion on her bones. None of her boyfriends ever complained. “Of course I want the job.”

  “Good. I was sure you were the woman I wanted when you walked into the room. Your resume was impressive and you’ll have to tell me about your days as a hostess at Delilah’s Den. I plan to visit there in the future. Now take your clothes off and give them to me.”

  Monique was a little taken back by his command. “Excuse me?”

  “I didn’t stutter, little one. Strip your clothes off and give them to me. I thought you wanted the job?”

  Monique hopped off the chair and slid out of the tight dress the agency would demand back after the mission was over. She tried to look coy at her new boss, but prayed on the inside that he wouldn’t demand service right away. Damn, she thought while pulling her silk panties off. There goes the recording devices. She folded up everything and handed them to him.

  He took the clothes from Monique, stepped from behind the desk, went to the door and summoned a servant. One of the young men she’d met earl
ier appeared at the door. Monique tried hard not to look in his direction, although she didn’t try to cover herself.

  “James,” he said to him. “Have these rags disposed of. Better yet, burn them. The new hostess won’t need them again.” The servant nodded and carried them away, closing the door behind him.

  Her new boss walked over to Monique, placed one hand under her chin and lifted her head up a bit to better look her over. She felt like a contestant in a pet show.

  “Nice hair, breasts and healthy skin. Full lips. Lovely fusion of ash grey and light blue in your eyes. You are quite a prize.” He looked down. “The pubic area will need to be shaved daily, I want you smooth at all times, same as your legs. No problem, I will have an aesthetician visit you every week, she’ll be by today at three in the afternoon and she will help you look presentable. The piercer will be here at five.”

  “The what?”

  “You do have a hearing problem don’t you?” he snapped at her, tracing one finger down her back. “The piercer. I want rings in these large nipples and maybe another one in your lower lip. It will look quite fetching on you. I thought about one in the left nostril too, but it would make you look common. Don’t worry, the pain will fade quickly and they heal up if you ever wish to leave my service.”

  He went back to the desk and took out a black thong and tossed it at her. ”You will wear this at all times. Now put it on.” Monique sighed and slipped the black thong between her legs. It felt smooth, had to be some kind of synthetic. “That is all you are allowed to wear so long as you are standing up. And not always then.”