The Forbidden Throb Chapter 108

Emma's POV:

I knelt beside the crate, my fingers hovering over the shipping labels.

"Can I... may I open it?"

"Please." Daniel's voice was soft, almost tentative.

He moved to crouch beside me, producing a small crowbar from somewhere. "Let me help with the outer packaging."

The wood creaked as he carefully pried away the protective slats. My heart hammered against my ribs with each deliberate movement of his hands.

When the final board came away, I gasped.

Nestled within layers of protective wrapping was the most exquisite travel case I'd ever seen. Deep burgundy leather, aged to perfection, with brass corner protectors that gleamed in the apartment's warm lighting.

Across the top, stamped in elegant gold lettering, were the words: *Pour Mon Voyageur*.

"It's beautiful," I whispered, my fingers tracing the embossed letters. "Daniel, this is—"

"Open it."

My hands trembled slightly as I worked the brass clasps. They released with a satisfying click, and when I lifted the lid, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

Inside, arranged with meticulous precision, were ten small boxes.

Each one was different—some wooden, some metal, some covered in velvet or silk. They were numbered 1 through 10, each with its own unique clasp or lock.

"I don't understand," I breathed, though my heart was starting to.

Daniel shifted beside me, and I felt the warmth of his presence as he leaned closer. "A Paris countdown. One gift for each day, starting tomorrow, until you board your flight."

I turned to look at him, and the expression on his face—gentle, almost shy—made something in my chest crack wide open.

---

The next few days passed in a strange blur.

I spent the week holed up in the apartment, working on my materials while secretly practicing the seduction tactics Olivia had drilled into me—finding moments to compliment Daniel, watching YouTube tutorials on how to apply mascara without poking my eye out.

Only problem: Daniel was never home.

He seemed to be perpetually at the hospital, leaving before dawn and returning after midnight.

So despite living in the same apartment, we barely saw each other. And soon we'd be separated by an ocean for two whole weeks.

My love life was definitely not cooperating.

But I had the countdown boxes.

What started as curiosity had become obsession. Every night, I'd carefully open the next gift, my heart racing with anticipation.

Over the following days, I discovered the Bluetooth headphones I'd been coveting but couldn't afford, vintage gemstone earrings in every imaginable hue, and delicate scented candles that filled the room with warmth.

Then Box #3 got stuck.

The antique case, despite professional restoration, had its quirks.

The drawer wouldn't budge no matter how carefully I tried.

I could see a sliver of white gift box through the crack, tantalizing and unreachable. Terrified of breaking something centuries-old, I tried every morning with increasing desperation.

Finally, on Sunday, I accidentally triggered a hidden mechanism.

A small wooden cherub in the center raised its trumpet and rotated twice. The stubborn drawer slid open.crystal

Inside: a bracelet.

Pale purple crystal, carved into a four-leaf clover with tiny diamonds embedded in some petals. The clasp was engraved with my initials: *E.J.*

The card read in Daniel's precise handwriting: *Happy two-month anniversary.*

Two months.

I'd completely forgotten. But he had remembered—had planned this gift days in advance.

I fastened the bracelet around my left wrist with trembling fingers.

The purple stone caught the morning light, making my skin look even paler. I twisted my wrist back and forth, admiring it, when Daniel's voice suddenly called from outside my bedroom:

"Is your luggage ready? "

"Oh!" I jolted upright. After a moment's hesitation, I decided to keep the bracelet on.

We stayed there, kneeling beside the open travel case, surrounded by the detritus of packing materials and the fading evening light.

"I'm ready."

"Okay, then have a rest."

I watched him walk away, disappearing down the hallway to his room.

Only when I heard his door click shut did I allow myself to collapse back onto the couch, the bracelet still clutched in my hand, my heart racing with a mixture of joy and fear and something that felt dangerously close to *love*.

---

I'd arranged to meet my team at the airport.

Also, I wanted every possible extra minute with Daniel before leaving.

When I finally wheeled my suitcase to the entryway, Daniel was already dressed—black wool coat over his charcoal suit, wire-rim glasses catching the light.

He leaned against the wall, one leg slightly bent, waiting for me to change shoes

I approached slowly, stopping a few steps away.

Standing before him like this, everything suddenly felt more intense.

And he looked devastatingly handsome in that black coat, the cut almost formal, perfectly complementing those elegant glasses. My eyes traced from his gentle, dark gaze down to his pale lips, unable to look away.

I stared up at him. He gazed down at me. Finally, his mouth curved into a slight smile.

"Do you have something to tell me?"

I blinked slowly, as if waking from a dream. "I... I'll be gone for two weeks."

"I know." His eyes were steady, warm.

"Europe's latitude means heavy snow next week. Pack extra layers when you get back to your dorm."

My heart hammered. I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

His concern was wonderful, but I wanted... I wanted *more* than this.

But I couldn't say it. Not when this was just an ordinary workday morning for him, not when he clearly had important commitments ahead. If I said something impulsive and inappropriate now, he'd probably see me as a burden.

While I spiraled in silent panic, Daniel straightened from the wall.

As if reading my mind completely, he reached up and turned off the overhead lights. In the dimmed entryway, he slowly turned to face me fully.

Then he opened his arms.

"Want a hug before you go?" His voice held a hint of laughter.