Page 16 of Mafia Pregnancy

Radmir

M onday morning arrives with coastal fog that makes the estate feel isolated from the rest of the world, wrapped in gray silence that muffles even the sound of waves against the shore.

I’ve spent the weekend in meetings that could have been emails, reviewing reports that told me nothing new, and checking my phone more often than I care to admit.

The cleaning staff returns today. Danielle returns today.

I tell myself the anticipation coiling in my chest has nothing to do with seeing her again and everything to do with the security concerns that have been eating at me if last week.

I’m still worried about the conversation she overheard.

I need to assess whether she represents a genuine threat to our operations.

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 the customs 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.

Andrei arrives at four-thirty for our regularly scheduled security briefing, settling into his usual chair with the kind of focused attention that means he has concerns to discuss.

“Port operations are running smoothly,” he says, consulting his phone for notes.

“The additional surveillance protocols caught two more attempts at interference, but nothing that required direct intervention.”

“Luca’s people?”

“Most likely. Same patterns and timing as the previous incidents. He’s testing our response times and mapping our security measures.”

I settle back in my chair with a scowl. Luca is patient in his approach to conflict. He won’t move against us directly until he’s confident in his intelligence about our operations.

“Any changes to our shipping schedules?”

“Minor adjustments to avoid the most obvious surveillance windows. Nothing that affects our bottom line.” Andrei sets his phone aside and looks at me directly. “There is something else. The estate’s perimeter security had a minor glitch last night.”

My attention sharpens. “What kind of glitch?”

“The south-facing cameras went offline for approximately ten minutes between two and two-ten a.m. The system logged it as a weather-related interruption, but the timing feels too precise.”

Ten minutes. Just long enough for someone to approach the house undetected, to plant surveillance equipment or assess entry points, or gather intelligence about our domestic security measures. “What were the weather conditions last night?”

He grimaces. “Clear skies, no precipitation, and minimal wind. Nothing that should have affected the camera systems.”

I exhale sharply. The cameras didn’t malfunction randomly.

Someone with enough technical knowledge to make the interference look like a system glitch disabled them deliberately.

“Increase the patrol frequency around the estate perimeter. I want guards checking the south approach every ten minutes, and I want those cameras inspected for any signs of tampering. Add a few more guards to the detail.”

“Yes, boss. I also want to discuss upgrading our domestic security protocols.”

“In what way?”

“Background checks on all household staff. Updated security clearances, enhanced monitoring of communications, and restrictions on access to certain areas of the house.”

The suggestion makes sense from a security standpoint, but it also means scrutinizing people who have worked here for years without incident. People like Carmen, who has never given me reason to doubt her loyalty. People like Mrs. Yranda, who manages the household like a drill sergeant.

People like Danielle, who overheard sensitive information and whose behavior has shifted in ways that suggest either guilt or fear.

That knowledge can’t be ignored. “Run the background checks on any new hires from the last six months. Focus on anyone with access to areas where sensitive conversations might occur.” I pause, thinking about Danielle.

I imagine this idea is his subtle way to point out we need to handle the potential situation without angering me by mentioning her specifically.

I can’t disagree though I want to because he’s correct.

“Keep monitoring Ms. Arden’s behavior. Note any further changes in her routine or attitude. ”

He looks surprised that I mentioned her specifically. “Are there any new concerns?”

“Her behavior has been different since she heard part of our conversation.” I think about her pale complexion, her careful movements, and her sudden reluctance to work overtime. “Either she’s planning to use that information, or she’s afraid of the consequences of having it.”

“I could have a conversation with her to remind her about confidentiality agreements and make sure she understands the importance of discretion.”

The suggestion sends a surge of protectiveness through me.

The thought of Andrei “reminding” Danielle about anything makes my hands clench into fists, but I relax and breathe in and out.

It’s for the best if he handles it. “Do it but keep it subtle. A gentle reminder about the terms of her employment and nothing more.”

Andrei nods, making notes on his phone. “I’ll handle it carefully.”

“Make sure you do. We don’t want to create problems where none exist.”

He studies my face with thoroughness, having learned to read between the lines of my orders. “Are you sure that’s your only concern? Your personal involvement with this employee complicates the security assessment.”

I glare at him even though he has a point.

My feelings for Danielle, whatever those feelings are, make it impossible to evaluate her objectively as a potential threat.

I want to believe she’s innocent of any intention to harm us.

That desire to protect her could be a fatal weakness if I’m wrong about her intentions.

“I’ll handle any personal complications appropriately,” I say finally. “In the meantime, increase security around the estate and monitor the situation. I want to know if her behavior changes further.”

After Andrei leaves, I sit alone in my office, staring out at the ocean while thinking.

Luca is escalating his surveillance of our operations, testing our security measures in preparation for something more direct.

The estate itself may be under observation with our domestic routines monitored for weaknesses.

In the middle of all this, Danielle is behaving like someone with secrets to hide. Has Luca gotten to her? That’s Enemy Takedown 101. Find a weak target inside your enemy’s stronghold and exploit it. If she’s desperate enough for money, or to get away from me…

The smart thing would be to remove her from the equation immediately. I should terminate her employment and arrange for enhanced surveillance to ensure any threat she might represent is neutralized before it can develop.

I can’t bring myself to give that order.

Instead, I’ll watch and wait and try to determine if she’s planning to destroy everything I’ve built, if she’s simply a civilian caught in the crossfire of a war she doesn’t understand, or if her change in behavior is purely personal after our amazing sex and subsequent silence.

The distinction matters more than it should. It matters because despite every logical reason to maintain professional distance, despite the security risks and potential complications, I still want to protect her from the dangerous realities of my world.

If she isn’t working against me, then shielding her means protecting her from my world. I should let her go, but I can’t.