Page 39 of Mafia Pregnancy

She gives me a chiding look. “Those things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

We stand in silence for a moment. “I’m going to the agency today after work,” I say finally. “I’ve told Mrs. Yranda I need to leave early for an appointment. I’m going to ask if they have any immediate openings somewhere else.”

She doesn’t argue this time. “What will you tell them?”

“I need a change of scenery. Personal reasons.”

“All right.” Carmen squeezes my hand. “Just promise me you’ll really think about this decision. Once you disappear with his children, there’s no going back.”

I blink back tears I refuse to cry. “I’ve been thinking about nothing else ever since…” I don’t fill in the rest, but she must guess since I got the positive pregnancy tests.

“I know. I just want to make sure you’re making this choice out of love, not fear.”

I half shrug. “Sometimes, they’re the same thing.”

At four-thirty that afternoon,I walk into the San Diego Domestic Staffing Agency, trying to look calm and professional despite the chaos in my head. The reception area is small but well-appointed, with motivational posters about the dignity of honest work and the importance of reliable service.

Leslie, the woman behind the front desk, recognizes me immediately. She’s in her fifties with short gray hair and the kind of efficient manner that suggests she’s seen every possible employment crisis. “Danielle, what brings you in today? Are you having trouble at the Vetrov placement?”

“Not exactly.” I settle into the chair across from her desk. “I was just hoping you might have something new available, maybe starting immediately. You have sister agencies in San Fran and Sacramento too, don’t you? Somewhere there maybe?”

Leslie’s eyebrows rise slightly. “That’s unusual. The Vetrov position is one of our most coveted placements. It has excellent pay, reasonable hours, beautiful location, and potential for direct hire.” She turns to her computer and starts typing. “Is there a problem with the work environment?”

“No, nothing like that. It’s more...personal circumstances. I need a change of scenery.”

“I see.” She scans through available positions. “Let me see what we have available that might suit your qualifications and schedule requirements, either here or in one of our other locations.” As she scrolls through listing after listing, her expression grows more and more apologetic with each passing minute.

Finally, she turns back to me. “I’m sorry, Danielle. There’s really nothing available right now that would match your current salary or accommodate your need for school-hour scheduling.” She turns the monitor so I can see the sparse list of openings. “Most of our high-end residential positions require live-in arrangements, which I know doesn’t for anyone with a family.”

She turns the monitor toward me so I can see for myself. My heart sinks as I scan the listings for part-time cleaning services for office buildings, overnight janitorial work, and live-in positions in Los Angeles and San Francisco. “What about in other states?” I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “I’m willing to relocate for the right opportunity.”

Leslie’s expression grows more sympathetic. “We’re strictly a California-based company, but even if we had something in Nevada or Arizona, the application and interview process usually takes several weeks.”

“Oh. I did apply at some other agencies in Nevada…”

She looks sympathetic, not angry that I’m applying elsewhere. “You’ll find it’s the same with other states too, I’m sure. Most agencies want references, background checks, and trial periods.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “Honestly, walking awayfrom the Vetrov position without another job lined up would be career suicide in this industry. That man has connections everywhere, and it’s one of the best assignments available that isn’t live-in.”

The implication is clear. If I quit without notice or cause problems at Radmir’s estate, I might find myself blacklisted from domestic work entirely. The thought makes my stomach churn, because I have no other skills that can quickly support myself and two children. I’ll keep looking for work from home positions, but I feel stuck for the moment. “How long would it typically take to find something comparable?”

“In this market? With your specific requirements? Maybe six to eight weeks if we’re lucky.”

Six to eight weeks. By then, I’ll be showing enough that even loose clothing won’t hide the pregnancy. Radmir will almost certainly have already figured out what I’m hiding even if I can resist the urge to sleep with him again.

“I encourage you to check back in a few weeks,” Leslie says. “Holiday season is coming up, and we always see more short-term opportunities then. Sometimes those turn into permanent positions if you make a good impression.”

“Thank you for your time.” I stand up, forcing myself to smile despite the crushing disappointment. “I’ll definitely keep in touch.”

“Is there anything else I can help you with? Any other concerns about your current placement?”

For a moment, I consider telling her the truth about the pregnancy, about the father, about the impossible situation I’ve created for myself. Instead, I rein in that impulse of temporaryinsanity and shake my head. “No, nothing else. Thank you again.”

I leave in a hurry, feeling the urge to cry. I make it three blocks from the agency before I have to stop walking. The afternoon crowd rushes past me as I stand at a busy intersection, processing it all. There are no immediate job prospects, no easy escape route, and no way to disappear without causing suspicion or damaging my career permanently.

I press my hand to my stomach, where the baby is growing larger each day. At almost twelve weeks, I still have a few weeks before the pregnancy becomes obvious, but not long enough to find a new job in a different state. Not long enough to relocate Leo and establish a new life somewhere safe.

The light changes, and the crowd surges forward, carrying me along with them. I let myself be swept up in the movement, one more person among thousands trying to make it through another day, but even surrounded by people, I’ve never felt more alone.

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