Page 88 of Arranged Obsession
Butterflies go wild in my chest as I stand and wave her over. She smiles at me, white teeth, professional lipstick, her dark hair pulled up into a bun a lot like my own. We’re around the same height, similar build, except she’s in her mid-forties with smile lines around her eyes and a very confident stride.
I’m weirdly jealous of the way she walks.
“Hello, Dr. Vasquez,” I say, shaking her hand. “It’s so good to meet you.”
“And you as well, Mrs. Whelan.”
I resist the urge to flinch at that name. It still feels really bizarre. “Thanks for meeting me here. Our offices are a little sparse right now, and I was thinking this would be more comfortable.”
“No, this is fantastic. I appreciate the opportunity.” She slides down into the booth across from me. “I’ll be honest, when I got the call about your new project, I was a little skeptical. But all the materials you sent over look fantastic.”
“I’m really happy to hear you say that.” I lean back and absently study her while glancing down at her resume. Elena Vasquez has fifteen years of experience in domestic violence advocacy and she finished her PhD from Columbia recently. She managed crisis intervention teams, is fluent in Spanish and English, and she’s exactly the kind of no-bullshit woman I need to help me get this project up and running.
“Tell me, Mrs. Whelan?—”
I lightly interrupt her. “Please, call me Bianca.”
“Which means you’ll have to call me Elena.” Her eyes sparkle with amusement and confidence. “What made you reach out to me in the first place?”
I hesitate a moment. The truth is, I used resources provided to me by both the Whelan Clan and the Marino Famiglia to come up with a list of potential candidates, and her name floated to the top. But I’m thinking maybe I should leave out the mob connections for now.
“I found your resume online, did a little research, and decided we should meet up. Your background is exactly what I’m looking for.”
She seems to accept that explanation, even though it sounds a little thin, even to me. “Well, please, I’d love to hear more about this project of yours. What did you say you were calling it?”
“I’m not settled on a name yet, but I’m thinking something along the lines of Second Chances. I volunteered at Grace House in Philadelphia for years, and I’d like to model ourselves after their success.”
Elena nods enthusiastically. “I’ve heard of them. Kate Rodriguez runs Grace, doesn’t she?”
“Kate’s like a mentor to me.”
“Okay, I’ll admit, I’m very intrigued.” She sits back and studies me, a little smile on her face. “I didn’t know what to expect when I came here, but you seem very earnest, Bianca.”
“Earnest and persistent.”
“The two most important traits you need in this line of work.”
“I’m aware, believe me. I’ve seen a lot.” I pull out some more papers and clear my throat. “Since you asked, let’s start with more about my vision for Second Chances, and then I’ll ask some questions about your background, if that’s okay?”
“By all means.” Elena gestures for me to get started.
We talk for over an hour. She orders coffee and some toast, and I almost forget that we’re at a job interview. Elena reminds me so much of Kate, and by the time we finish up and I pay our bill, I’m totally in love with her.
This woman is everything I need. Smart, driven, passionate, and caring. She’s seen it all and come through the other side. “The thing you need to know about New York is it’s a total nightmare,” she says with a laugh as we leave the diner together. “The job itself is hard, but there are also the city politics. Securing funding, licensing, permitting, real estate, all that stuff. Getting in the right spots to help the most amount of people.”
We stop next to my car as we keep talking.
“That’s why I want to work with you. I know Philadelphia, but I didn’t grow up here. I need someone who did.”
Elena nods, looking at me like she’s trying to see through me. It’s a calculated stare filled with curiosity and intensity. “I’ll be honest. I wasn’t all that confident coming to this meeting. From my perspective, you seemed like a well-meaning person, but maybe a little too naive.”
I laugh lightly. If only she knew where I came from, she might not think that anymore. “I can’t blame you, but trust me. I’m very serious about this.”
“No, I can see that now.” She taps a finger against her lip. “Tell you what?—”
She never gets to finish that sentence.
I don’t know how it happens. One second, Elena’s telling me something, and the next the world is upside down. Heat searsmy body. My ears are ringing, and I’m staring at the sky. Am I leaning against the wall? Is that blood on my face? Blood on my lips?
