Chapter 1 - THE MAID WHO TOUCHED THE UNTOUCHABLE|
The first time Tabitha Hayes touched Graham Costa, he pointed a loaded gun directly at her heart.
The second time, he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.
And by the following morning, the most feared mafia boss in New York had issued an order that left his entire household speechless.
Nobody was allowed to touch him.
Nobody was allowed to enter his private rooms.
But the quiet little maid who had broken both rules was now the only person he wanted near him.
What Tabitha didn't know was that the blood she had wiped from his face was only the beginning.
Because somewhere inside the mansion, a man was already planning to kill her.
And Graham Costa was about to discover that the one woman who wasn't afraid to save his life might also be the only woman capable of destroying the world he'd built.
At 2:17 on a freezing Tuesday morning, Tabitha Hayes was polishing a mahogany desk worth more than her childhood home when the study door slammed open.
She nearly dropped the silver picture frame in her hand.
A man staggered through the doorway.
For one terrible second, she didn't recognize him.
His charcoal suit was torn. Blood covered the left side of his face, and one hand was pressed against his ribs. He was breathing hard, each step leaving a dark spot on the polished hardwood floor.
Then the moonlight caught his face.
Graham Costa.
The man whose name made restaurant owners lower their voices.
The man who controlled half the illegal gambling operations, underground shipments, and protection rackets along the Hudson River.
The man who employed Tabitha and terrified everyone who worked for him.
He stumbled toward his desk, caught himself against the edge, and collapsed into the leather chair.
Tabitha froze beside the bookshelf.
Her first instinct was to disappear.
She knew the rules of the Costa mansion.
Never enter Graham's private study without permission.
Never approach him when he was angry.
And above all, never touch him.
Three housekeepers had been dismissed for violating that last rule. One had reportedly left the mansion in an ambulance after accidentally brushing his shoulder.
Tabitha had been working there for eleven weeks.
She intended to keep her head down, collect her paycheck, and save enough money to pay for her younger brother's rehabilitation.
She had no interest in becoming part of Graham Costa's dangerous world.
But then she noticed the blood dripping between his fingers.
"Mr. Costa?"
His head lifted.
His dark eyes found her immediately.
"Get out."
His voice was rough, but the command was unmistakable.
Tabitha took one step backward.
Then she saw the way his hand trembled against his ribs.
"You're bleeding."
"I said get out."
He tried to stand, but his knees nearly gave way.
Tabitha instinctively moved toward him.
His hand disappeared beneath his jacket.
"Don't."
She stopped.
Graham drew a black pistol and aimed it directly at her chest.
"One more step, and I'll put a bullet through you."
Her heart hammered.
She could barely breathe.
But instead of running, she looked at the blood spreading across his white shirt.
"You're going to die if nobody helps you."
His expression hardened.
"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then you should know better."
Tabitha swallowed.
"I know you're hurt."
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Graham's gun hand weakened.
His head tilted backward, and his breathing became dangerously shallow.
Tabitha glanced toward the desk. A crystal glass had shattered beside his hand. His phone lay on the carpet.
She could call his security team.
She could also wait for him to collapse completely.
Instead, she picked up the phone and called his personal physician.
When Graham tried to stop her, his hand slipped from the edge of the desk.
Tabitha rushed forward.
His pistol struck the floor.
She caught his face between her trembling fingers and pressed a clean cloth against the wound near his temple.
Graham went rigid.
His eyes snapped open.
Nobody touched Graham Costa.
Nobody.
Yet this small, frightened maid was holding his face as if he were simply another wounded human being.
"Don't touch me," he whispered.
Tabitha's fingers trembled.
"I'm sorry. I just need to stop the bleeding."
He stared at her.
Then something unexpected happened.
His shoulders slowly relaxed.
His eyes closed.
And for the first time in years, Graham Costa allowed someone to touch him without reaching for a weapon.
The physician arrived fourteen minutes later.
By then, Graham was barely conscious.
As the medical team worked, Tabitha stood near the doorway, her hands stained with his blood.
Before they carried him upstairs, Graham caught her wrist.
His grip was weak but deliberate.
"What is your name?"
"Tabitha, sir."
He stared at her as though committing the name to memory.
"Don't let anyone send you away."
Then he lost consciousness.
Tabitha remained motionless.
She had no idea why a man like Graham Costa would care whether she stayed.
But as the physician disappeared into the private elevator, a figure watched her from the shadowed staircase.
It was Anthony Russo, Graham's chief of security.
He looked at the blood on Tabitha's hands.
Then he slowly took out his phone.
"She's touched him," he whispered.
A pause.
"Yes. The girl we were told to watch."
May you like
His eyes narrowed.
"Then we have a problem."
