The Forbidden Throb Chapter 110

Emma's POV:

The silence that followed my confession felt infinite.

Professor Laurent's mouth hung open in a perfect 'o' of surprise, while Sarah's eyes had gone comically wide.

I could feel heat creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks like wildfire.

"Dr. Prescott," Professor Laurent finally managed, her voice climbing an octave. "The man who just shook your hand?"

I nodded, my fingers instinctively moving to the bracelet on my wrist—the purple amethyst four-leaf clover Daniel had given me.

The metal felt cool and solid under my touch, grounding me as I struggled to maintain composure.

Professor Laurent leaned forward, her expression shifting from shock to intense curiosity. "Wait... Prescott. Your ex-boyfriend was Nicholas Prescott, right? Same last name..."

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

There was no point in hiding it now. "Daniel is Nicholas's older brother."

The words hung in the air between us.

Sarah's hand flew to her mouth. Professor Laurent simply stared, blinking rapidly as if trying to process this information.

For several long seconds, neither of them spoke.

"You married your ex-boyfriend's *brother*?" Sarah finally whispered, her voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

My face burned hotter. "Yes, but it wasn't like that. It's complicated."

"Complicated," Professor Laurent echoed, still looking dazed.

I nodded, clinging to the story Daniel and I had constructed. "Our families go way back. There was an informal arrangement—originally between Nicholas and me, since we were closer in age."

I paused, feeling the familiar twist of discomfort at the mention of his name. "But it became clear pretty quickly that Nicholas and I weren't... compatible. After we split, Daniel and I just—" I searched for the right words, "—found our way to each other."

It sounded more natural than the truth. Cleaner. Less like a desperate transaction born from heartbreak and family obligation.

It sounded more convincing each time I said it. Maybe that was dangerous.

"So he's been in love with you all along?" Sarah's tone was dreamy, romantic. "That's actually beautiful."

I offered a shy smile, ducking my head.

But the truth was, I didn't know what to say.

---

The medical team emerged, Daniel at the forefront.

Even from a distance, he commanded attention—the deep gray cashmere overcoat over his three-piece suit, the subtle gleam of his wire-rim glasses, the way he carried himself with that perfect blend of authority and grace.

"He looks like he walked out of a medical journal cover," Sarah murmured beside me.

I watched as Daniel engaged with the other physicians, his posture relaxed yet somehow distant.

"How did a girl like you end up with someone like... *that*?" Professor Laurent's question wasn't unkind, just genuinely bewildered.

Pride warred with uncertainty in my chest.

"He's not as intimidating as he seems," I said softly, surprising myself with the truth of it.

I pulled out my phone, preparing to text Daniel about having already confessed our relationship, when I noticed a gate agent approaching with a tablet, her professional smile firmly in place.

My stomach tightened. *Is something wrong? Overbooking?*

"Excuse me, are you Miss Emma Johnson?" she asked in accented English.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Prescott has arranged complimentary upgrades to La Première for your party."

I stared at her blankly. "La... what?"

"La Première," she repeated, her smile widening. "It's Air France's premier first-class suite service. Professor Laurent and Miss Martinez's seats have also been arranged. Someone will come to escort them shortly. If you'll follow me?"

I glanced back at Professor Laurent and Sarah.

They sat watching me with knowing smiles. The unspoken message was clear: *Your husband certainly knows how to take care of you.*

Heat flooded my cheeks. I managed a small nod, trying to ignore their conspiratorial looks, and followed the agent down the aisle.

The agent led me through the aircraft, past business class, past premium economy.

Each transition marked a visible upgrade in space and luxury, and with each step, I felt more acutely aware of the distance between Daniel's world and mine.

The agent stopped before a private door marked "Suite 1A."

She pushed open the door.

The suite beyond stole my breath. An enclosed private space with a seat that converted to a fully flat bed—already made up with pristine white linens and a deep navy throw blanket folded at the foot.

A Hermès amenity kit rested on the side table. Soft amber lighting. The subtle scent of Diptyque candles—blackcurrant and rose. A mini bar with champagne chilling in an ice bucket. The window overlooked Boston's glittering nightscape.

It was more luxurious than any hotel room I'd ever seen.

Daniel's eyes found mine, something in his expression softened—a brief, unguarded moment.

"They offered the upgrade," he said simply. "I thought you'd be more comfortable."

"Thank you," I managed, my voice smaller than I intended.

Daniel loosened his tie, undoing the Windsor knot with practiced ease.

He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, revealing a glimpse of his collarbone, and settled onto the edge of the bed with casual grace, his hands braced behind him.

He removed his glasses, setting them aside, and those gray-blue eyes focused on me with unguarded intensity.

The city lights beyond the window swept across his profile, highlighting the sharp planes of his face.

"Come here, Emma." His voice was low, magnetic, carrying an invitation that felt both gentle and impossible to refuse.

I stood frozen near the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. My fingers found the bracelet on my wrist, gripping it like a lifeline.

I took a deep breath. Then another.

My feet moved forward almost of their own accord.

Behind me, the suite door closed with a soft, definitive *click*.

The sounds of the aircraft faded, leaving only the quiet hum of climate control and my own thundering heartbeat.