Page 13 of Grumpy Alien Boss

CHAPTER 13

OLIVIA

" N o, Mr. Peterson, the faucet is still dripping. Yes, even after you 'fixed' it last week." I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting off a headache. "The water bill is going to be astronomical."

The leather seat creaks as Dar shifts beside me. His presence fills the back of the limo like a furnace - all that alien heat packed into his human disguise.

"You could just move in with me."

A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. "Right. Because we don't spend enough time together at the office already?"

His large hand engulfs mine, those dangerous fingers threading through mine. The touch sends sparks racing up my arm. "That's not what I meant."

My breath catches. Of course I know what he means - a real home together, waking up in his arms every morning instead of sneaking out of the office after hours. The thought makes my stomach flutter.

"What happens if I move in?" The question comes out softer than I intended.

Dar's thumb traces circles on my palm. "Everything gets better." His voice drops to that growl that makes my toes curl. "We'll have sex all the time."

"The sex part sounds amazing, but there's other stuff to consider."

"Like what?" His fingers still their mesmerizing circles on my palm.

My mind goes blank. All those carefully considered reasons evaporate under his intense gaze. "I... just need to think about it more."

"Take your time." His voice softens, and he brings my hand to his lips for a kiss.

Back at the office, Dar pulls me into his private suite before I can return to my desk. "I have something for you."

My pulse quickens. Dar's gifts are always spectacular - whether it's flying me to Paris for lunch or that diamond tennis bracelet last month. "Is it sexy or practical?"

"A bit of both." His smile holds secrets as he reaches into his desk drawer.

The velvet box he produces makes my breath catch. When he opens it, I gasp. A delicate silver choker gleams against black silk, but what draws my eye is the stunning red star ruby mounted at its center. The gem catches the light, sparkling with an inner fire that reminds me of Dar's true eyes.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, reaching out to touch the cool metal.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, reaching out to touch the cool metal. The ruby catches the light, its deep red glinting like liquid fire.

Dar’s voice is low, that gravelly tone that alwayse. “It’s not just a necklace. There’s an isotope embedded in the ruby that allows me to track you. The range isn’t as extensive as the Vakutan subdermal chip, but it’s more... elegant.”

I raise an eyebrow, a flicker of irritation sparking. “So, you’re putting a tracker on me now? I thought we were past the whole ‘protective alien warrior’ routine.”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. His hand brushes my arm, heat radiating off him even through my blouse. “It’s not about control, Olivia. It’s about keeping you safe. Especially with what’s coming.”

I want to argue, but the sincerity in his eyes stops me. Instead, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Fine. But if you’re going to put a tracker on me, the least you can do is help me put it on.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek, alien-looking key, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seem to shift in the light.

“Turn around,” he says, his voice soft but commanding.

I hesitate for a moment before obeying, gathering my hair up and pulling it over my shoulder. The cool metal of the choker presses against my skin as Dar positions it around my neck. There’s a quiet click as he uses the key to secure it, the sound oddly final.

I turn back to face him, my fingers brushing over the smooth metal. “How do I take it off?”

“You don’t,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He slips the key onto a chain and hangs it around his own neck, the metal glinting against his chest. “It’s not just a tracker. It’s a silent affirmation. A constant reminder that you’re mine, and that you’re pleased to obey.”

Heat floods my body, pooling low in my stomach and spreading outward. My breath hitches, the flush creeping up my neck. My fingers linger on the choker, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of my skin.

“Yes, Sir,” I breathe, my voice throaty and low,. The air between us crackles with tension, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

Dar’s eyes darken, and I can see the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. His hand reaches up, his fingers brushing against the choker, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

His lips crash into mine, fierce and demanding. Papers scatter as he lifts me onto the desk, his hands gripping my thighs like iron. I barely have time to gasp before his mouth is on my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“Dar—” I start, but his hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my words. His eyes blaze with that predatory intensity I’ve come to crave, and I feel myself melt under his touch.

“Quiet,” he growls, his voice low and commanding. His free hand hikes up my skirt, and with a sharp tug, my panties are pushed aside. I feel the heat of him, the throbbing length of his scaled cock pressing against me, and then he’s inside, filling me in one relentless thrust.

The sensation is overwhelming—scales flexing, stretching, driving me to the edge before I can even catch my breath. I arch into him, my hands clawing at his shirt as I scream, the sound half instinct, half desperation. His hand muffles most of it, turning it into a whimper that only seems to spur him on.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “Take it. All of it.”

I’m trembling, already on the brink, when his phone rings, the shrill tone cutting through the haze of pleasure. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate, just reaches for the phone with his free hand, his hips still driving into me with a rhythm that leaves me shuddering.

“Rook,” he barks into the phone, his voice steady despite the way he’s buried inside me.

I bite back a moan, the sound stifled by his hand, as another wave of pleasure crashes over me. My nails dig into his arm, muscles flexing under his skin, the power of him holding me down, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

“Yes, she’s ready,” he says into the phone, his gaze locking with mine. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—pride, maybe, or possessiveness—before he adds, “Bring it around front.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone aside, and releases his grip on my mouth. My breath comes in ragged gasps as he leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a way that’s almost tender.

“Your car is ready,” he says, his voice rough with need.

I barely have time to process the words before he thrusts into me again, hard and deep, and this time I can’t hold back the scream. His hand clamps down over my mouth again, muffling the sound, and I feel him pulse inside me as he comes, his body shuddering against mine.

For a moment, we’re both still, the only sound the ragged rhythm of our breathing. Then he pulls back, his hand falling away from my mouth, and I collapse onto the desk, boneless and spent.

Dar steps away, adjusting his clothes with an ease that’s infuriating, while I’m left trying to remember how to breathe. He glances at me, that smirk playing at the corner of his lips, and I can’t help but glare.

“You’re impossible,” I mutter, though my voice is too shaky to carry any real venom.

He chuckles, the sound low and dangerous.

“And yet, you keep coming back for more.”

My legs wobble as I make my way to the waiting limo. The choker feels heavy against my throat, a constant reminder of what just happened upstairs. Of what Dar does to me. Of how he owns me.

Focus, Olivia. This is about the mission. Not about how his hands felt on my body, or the way he?—

No. Mission. Right.

The limo glides through Manhattan traffic, and I try to review my cover story. But every time I shift in my seat, I feel the delicious ache between my legs, and my mind drifts back to Dar's office.

When the car stops, I blink in confusion. This can't be right. The strip mall looks like it's been here since the 70s, all faded signs and cracked concrete. Between a vape shop and a discount furniture outlet sits "Hurst Electronics & Repair."

A neon "OPEN" sign flickers in the grimy window. Behind it, rows of outdated computer parts gather dust on metal shelves.

This is where the infamous conspiracy theorist broadcasts from? The guy who claims to have "proof" of aliens walking among us runs his show from the back of an electronics repair shop?

I touch the choker, drawing strength from it. The cool metal grounds me, reminds me why I'm here. These people might seem ridiculous, but they're dangerous. The Grolgath are using Hurst's paranoid ramblings to further their agenda.

Time to play my part. The scared whistleblower, ready to expose her alien boss to the world.

I straighten my skirt, check my reflection in the limo window. I look properly nervous – though that has more to do with what happened in Dar's office than any acting on my part.

The bell over the door chimes as I step inside. A lanky man with wild gray hair bursts from behind the counter, nearly tripping over his own feet in his excitement.

"You came! You actually came!" Hurst's voice cracks with enthusiasm. "This is going to be huge for the show!"

I hold up my hand. "Remember our agreement. Complete anonymity."

"Of course, of course!" He nods so vigorously his glasses slip down his nose. "Voice modulation, no names, the works. I understand - you're risking a lot coming forward about your... employer."

"More than you know." I let my voice quaver. "If he finds out I'm here..."

Hurst ushers me through a beaded curtain into what looks like a converted storage room. Ancient sound equipment crowds the space, cables snaking everywhere like technological kudzu.

He hands me a headset that's seen better days. The foam padding gives off a distinct processed cheese aroma. I slip it on, trying not to think about how many conspiracy theorists have worn it before me.

"So tell me about the evidence you found," Hurst says, adjusting levels on his mixing board.

"Well, there was this strange scale-like thing in his office." I touch the choker at my throat. "Bright red, about the size of a quarter. At first I thought it was some kind of sequin..."

Hurst's eyes light up. "Red scales! I knew it! This confirms everything about the Reds infiltrating human society, manipulating our history from the shadows!"

If he only knew how close to the truth he is. The Vakutan are trying to change history - but only to stop the Grolgath from destroying humanity's future. Sometimes the good guys have to work in secret too.

The shop owner's voice cuts through Hurst's latest theory about lizard people controlling the Federal Reserve.

"Hey! Those computers aren't going to fix themselves! Get back to work!"

Hurst jumps like he's been shocked. "But Mr. Chen, this is important! We're exposing?—"

"What's important is paying rent. Now move!"

I slip off the headphones while Hurst scrambles to shut down his equipment. So much for the fearless truth-seeker. Just another conspiracy nut working a dead-end job, living in a fantasy world.

What a waste of time. Dar will be disappointed – we were hoping to draw out the Grolgath through Hurst's show. But this guy couldn't attract flies to honey.

The autumn wind whips down the street as I step outside onto the cracked sidewalk. I dig in my purse for my phone to call the car.

Someone bumps into me hard, nearly knocking me off balance. "Hey, watch it!"

But they're already gone, vanishing into the crowd of people rushing past. Something feels off though. I reach into my coat pocket and my fingers brush against paper that wasn't there before.

My heart races as I unfold the crisp white sheet. One sentence in precise block letters stares back at me, along with what looks like a phone number:

WE BELIEVE YOU.

The paper trembles in my hand. Maybe this wasn't such a waste after all.