Chapter 1 - The Towels That Changed Everything
The curvy maid accidentally dropped heated towels on the mafia king’s legs—then he whispered, “Don’t move them,” and she realized something was terribly wrong.
“Touch Him Again,” His Jealous Fiancée Snapped—But the Mafia King Refused to Let the Curvy Maid Leave His Side
“Do not touch his chair. And please try not to knock over anything expensive.”
The housekeeping manager looked down at Lena Maro’s too-tight uniform as she delivered the warning.
Lena swallowed her answer.
Her father needed dialysis. She had forty-three dollars in her checking account. Keeping this job mattered more than defending herself against another remark about her size.
The Black Pelican paid its night staff almost twice what neighboring hotels offered. In return, employees were expected to move quickly, keep quiet, and never discuss what happened on the private floor.
Especially anything involving Dante Vale.
Seven years earlier, a yacht explosion had left him unable to walk. His doctors said the damage was permanent.
Now he controlled a criminal empire from a reinforced wheelchair above the Mississippi water. Armed men guarded his doors. Powerful visitors lowered their voices around him.
Lena’s job was to change his towels.
On her first visit, her hands shook against the laundry cart. When he asked her name, she answered without looking directly at him.
But he kept requesting her.
Over the following weeks, she learned that he hated scented soap, drank coffee long after midnight, and would leave a fallen object on the floor rather than ask someone to retrieve it.
She also noticed something she had stopped expecting from men in that hotel.
He never made her body into a joke.
Not once.
So when a Gulf storm knocked out the lights one night and her manager rushed into the laundry room, Lena was already reaching for the towels.
“Private floor. Heated towels. Now.”
The generators came on. Lena wrapped the towels in a canvas bundle and took the elevator upstairs.
It shuddered twice during the climb.
Inside the suite, the lights were low. Dante sat near his bed, his face pale, his jaw clenched.
A medical cart stood nearby. His doctor appeared to have left in a hurry.
Lena held the warm bundle against her chest.
She knew better than to ask questions. She would put the towels away, check whether he needed anything, and leave him in peace.
She stepped toward the warming drawer.
Her shoe caught something.
A black cable lay almost invisible against the rug.
Lena pitched forward.
The bundle flew from her arms. Heated towels scattered across Dante’s thighs as she struck the floor beside his chair.
“Oh God. I’m sorry.”
He didn’t answer.
She scrambled onto her knees, reaching toward the fallen towels.
“Mr. Vale, I didn’t see the cable. I swear. I’ll—”
“Stop.”
Her hand froze.
His fingers had tightened around the chair’s arms. He was staring down at his covered legs.
“Where did they land?”
“The towels?”
“Exactly where.”
Lena pointed, afraid even that small movement might make things worse.
“Mostly your left thigh.”
“Don’t move them.”
May you like
This time, she heard it.
His voice was shaking.
