Chapter 3 - The Fallen Towels
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The storm raging outside over the Gulf finally broke the hotel’s main power grid. The penthouse plunged into darkness for ten terrifying seconds before the backup generators roared to life, casting the suite in a dim, emergency glow.
Mara was in the basement laundry room when her manager found her.
"Private floor. Heated towels. Now," Mrs. Crane barked, shoving a fresh bundle into Mara’s arms. "Mr. Cordell has muscle spasms when the temperature drops."
Mara hurried to the service elevator, her heart pounding. When she entered the penthouse, Rafe was sitting near his bed. He looked pale, his jaw clenched tight against an invisible agony. The cold dampness of the storm was wreaking havoc on his paralyzed legs. His private doctor had evidently left in a rush before the storm hit.
"I brought the warm towels, sir," Mara whispered, stepping softly into the room.
"Put them in the warming drawer," Rafe gritted out, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.
Mara clutched the heavy canvas bundle against her chest, hurrying across the room. The dim emergency lighting threw deep shadows across the floor. She didn't see the thick black medical cable snaking across the Persian rug.
Her oversized shoe caught the thick wire.
Mara pitched forward with a startled gasp. The bundle flew from her arms. As she struck the hardwood floor, landing hard on her knees, the scalding hot towels scattered directly across Rafe’s motionless legs.
"Oh God. I’m sorry," Mara panicked, scrambling on the floor.
He didn’t answer.
She crawled to her knees, reaching toward his legs to grab the fallen towels.
"Mr. Cordell, I didn’t see the cable. I swear. I’ll clean it up, I’ll—"
"Stop."
Her hand froze in mid-air. His long, scarred fingers had tightened violently around the leather arms of his wheelchair. He was staring down at his covered legs with an expression of absolute, unfiltered shock.
"Where did they land?" he asked, his voice strained.
"The towels?"
"Exactly where, Mara."
Trembling, afraid that even pointing might get her fired, she gestured. "Mostly your left thigh, sir. And one on your knee."
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"Don’t move them."
This time, she heard it clearly. The ruthless, untouchable mafia king’s voice was shaking.
