Page 27 of Mafia Pregnancy

The fact that I’ve been counting down the days until I could see her again is irrelevant.

I leave for the port at seven-thirty, ostensibly to review the updated security protocols Andrei implemented after thecustoms inspection incident. In reality, I need something to occupy my mind until Danielle arrives at work and a distraction from the way my chest tightens when I think about seeing her in my house again.

The port meeting is routine and productive in the way that most business, legit or otherwise, can be when everyone involved understands the stakes. Our shipping operations are running smoothly despite Luca’s interference, our documentation is airtight, and our local contacts remain reliable. Everything is exactly as it should be.

So why do I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop?

I return to the estate just after noon, parking in the garage and entering through the kitchen, where Mrs. Yranda is preparing lunch. The familiar sounds of domestic activity fill the house from vacuum cleaners humming in distant rooms, the soft clink of cleaning supplies, and the occasional murmur of conversation between staff members.

She’s here. I can sense her presence in the house like a gravitational pull, drawing my attention toward wherever she’s working even though I haven’t seen her yet.

I find her in the parlor, moving slowly around the room as she cleans. She looks pale, almost translucent in the afternoon light. And the way she’s moving is odd, like she’s forcing herself through the motions of tasks that usually come naturally.

“Ms. Castillo.” I catch Carmen in the hallway outside the parlor, keeping my voice low enough that Danielle won’t overhear. “Is Ms. Arden feeling well today? She seems...slower than usual.”

Carmen’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly with a flicker of something that might be concern or defensiveness. “She’s fine, Mr. Vetrov. Maybe just tired from the weekend.”

“Has she been sick recently?”

“Not that I know of.” She adjusts the supplies in her arms, clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “Is there something specific you need her to address? I could handle it if she’s not working fast enough.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I was simply concerned about her well-being.”

Carmen nods and hurries away, leaving me with the distinct impression she knows more than she’s saying. The interaction feels carefully managed, like the maid is protecting information she doesn’t want to share.

I return to my office but find concentration impossible. Every sound in the house makes me wonder if it’s Danielle, if she’s finished with the parlor, and if she’s moving closer to or farther from my location. The security reports sit ignored on my desk while I listen to the rhythm of domestic activity around me.

At three o’clock, I give up pretending to work and seek her out again.

I find her in the guest wing, cleaning windows with the same slow precision I observed earlier. Up close, the changes in her appearance are more pronounced. There are dark circles under her eyes, a pallor that makes her look almost fragile, and a slump in her posture that reveals fatigue.

“Ms. Arden?” I step into the room, noting how she stiffens slightly at the sound of my voice. “I wanted to discuss a potential assignment for this evening.”

She turns to face me, and I’m struck by how carefully blank her expression is. It’s all professional courtesy with no warmth, and no acknowledgment of what happened between us ten weeks ago.

“Of course, Mr. Vetrov. What do you need?”

I make it up as I go, since this is all spontaneous. “I’m hosting a small gathering. Nothing formal, but I’d like the main entertaining areas given extra attention after the guests leave. The work would need to be done later this evening, probably starting around six. There would be overtime, for which you’d be compensated.”

It’s a lie. There’s no gathering, no guests, and no legitimate need for additional cleaning. I’m manufacturing an excuse to keep her here, to have a reason for private conversation away from the other staff. To have another chance at seduction? I deny that strenuously even though I don’t normally lie to myself.

She considers the request, not giving the immediate acceptance I expected. Instead, there’s hesitation. Almost reluctance. “I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Vetrov, but I have a prior commitment this evening. I won’t be able to stay late.”

The response catches me by surprise. Three months ago, she was desperate enough for extra income to work overtime on short notice. Now she’s declining additional paid work without explanation. “I see. Is there any flexibility in your schedule? The compensation would be substantial.”

She shakes her head and avoids meeting my gaze directly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t change my plans. Perhaps Carmen would be available?”

I study her for a moment. “Hmm. That won’t be necessary. I’ll make other arrangements.” I leave the room feeling more unsettled than the situation warrants. The shift in Danielle’s behavior is notable, a change that suggests either growing confidence in her position or growing concern about something she’s not discussing.

The fact that she turned down well-paying overtime work bothers me more than it should. She has prior commitments that can’t be changed, responsibilities that take precedence over the income she clearly needs? That sounds suspicious, though I hate doubting her. In my world, I have to doubt everyone.

What changed? What commitment is more important than the financial security this job provides? Has she found a side source of income? Another job? A man? The idea makes my throat tighten and fists clench.

I force myself to relax and logically run through possibilities as I return to my office. Family obligations, personal appointments, or other employment opportunities… None of them feel quite right, but something has shifted in her priorities. It can’t be another man. I refuse to think that.

Maybe something has made her want to spend less time in this house. Me. The thought sends an unwelcome jolt through my chest. What if it’s not that? What if she’s planning to use the information she overheard against me? If she’s found someone she thinks might be interested in buying that, or she’s working with feds, creating distance makes sense. If she’s afraid of the consequences of that information, avoidance also makes sense.

It’s ridiculous that I prefer the idea of her planning to sell me out over her avoiding me personally because she’s hurt or hates me. Either way, her behavior change is worth monitoring.

---