The Forbidden Throb Chapter 147

Emma's POV:

I tilted my head, feeling a surge of boldness.

"Should I be? Or are *you* the one who's afraid?"

Something shifted in his expression—a flash of heat. He shook his head slowly, almost indulgently, and when he spoke, his voice was low enough that only I could hear.

"Baby, I'd announce it to the entire city if I could." His free hand came up, fingers brushing my cheek so briefly I might have imagined it.

My face went hot despite the cold. Before I could formulate a response, he shifted the bags in his hands, drawing my attention to them.

"Here," he said, his tone returning to something more neutral as a group of students walked past. "Before everything gets cold."

I looked down at what he was holding. Multiple bags. From different restaurants.

"You actually..." I stared at him, then back at the bags. "You really went to all of them?"

"You said you were hungry." He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like driving across Boston to four different high-end restaurants was just a normal Friday evening activity.

"Daniel." My throat felt tight. "How long did this take?"

"Two and a half hours, give or take." He shifted the bags again, and the scent of garlic and butter and something rich and wine-dark wafted up. "Though I didn't have to wait at a couple of places—I have stakes in them, so they had everything ready when I arrived. "

I just stood there, staring at him, at this man who'd finished surgery and immediately spent the next two and a half hours fighting Friday traffic and restaurant lines because I'd made a stupid joke about wanting food from half of Boston's finest establishments.

"You really are insane," I whispered.

"Probably." His smile was soft, private. "Now go inside before you freeze."

My heart felt too full, too warm, like it might overflow.

Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed his sleeve and tugged him toward the shadow of the oak tree, away from the brightest pool of streetlight. The massive trunk blocked us from most of the plaza's view.

"Emma—" he started, but I was already rising on my toes.

I kissed him quickly, softly, just a brief press of my lips against his. It wasn't enough, but it was all I dared in such a public space.

When I pulled back, his eyes had gone dark behind his glasses, his breath coming a little faster.

"Go," he said softly, but there was a roughness in his voice that hadn't been there before. "Before I forget we're standing in the middle of your campus."

I smiled, grabbed the bags, and forced myself to step back. "Goodnight, Daniel."

"Goodnight, baby."

This time, I didn't look back until I'd pushed through the glass doors.

Through the window, I could see him still standing there, a dark silhouette against the streetlight, watching to make sure I got inside safely.

I pushed through the door, the bags heavy in my arms and my heart doing complicated things in my chest.

The room was dark except for the glow from Olivia's laptop—she was curled up on her bed in an oversized BU sweatshirt, watching something on Netflix.

A half-eaten box of Domino's pizza sat on her desk.

"You're back!" She hit pause immediately, sitting up. "I was starting to think you'd—"

She stopped mid-sentence as her eyes landed on the bags I was carrying. Even in the dim light from her laptop, the restaurant logos were visible.

"Holy shit." She scrambled off her bed, coming closer. "Is that from Mistral?"

"Um." I set the bags down on my desk carefully. "Yeah. And a few other places."

"A few other—" Olivia peered into the bags, her eyes getting progressively wider. "Emma. *Emma.* This is like... hundreds of dollars worth of food."

I busied myself unpacking the containers, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. "Someone was being thoughtful."

"'Someone.'" Olivia's voice had gone up an octave. "Let me guess—tall, ridiculously handsome guy who was standing under the oak tree when I went to throw out my trash twenty minutes ago?"

I froze, a container of what appeared to be lobster fried rice halfway out of the bag. "You saw him?"

"Of course, I saw him. Emma, he's kind of impossible to miss." She grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at her. "He was wearing this Burberry trench coat and looked like he stepped out of a GQ photoshoot. He's like a hundred times more attractive than Nicholas. Not even the same league."

I didn't know what to say to that. She wasn't wrong—Daniel and Nicholas might share some family resemblance, but there was a fundamental difference in the way they carried themselves.

"So," Olivia settled onto my bed, crossing her legs. "Are you going to tell me about him, or do I have to guess?"

"There's not much to tell." I opened the container from Mistral—the beef cheeks Daniel had mentioned. The rich, wine-dark sauce made my mouth water. "We're just... seeing where things go."

"You're totally glowing." She pointed the fork at me. "You've been glowing since you got back from Paris. Whatever happened there, it was clearly—you've sealed the deal with this one."

Olivia grabbed a fork and stabbed a piece of lobster from the fried rice. "My advice totally worked. "

I felt my face heat up, remembering that dinner—the new dress that had looked so perfect when I'd put it on, the way Daniel's eyes had darkened when he saw me in it. And then later, much later, the sound of fabric tearing, the way he'd—

I grabbed my water glass and took a long drink, trying to cool the flush spreading across my cheeks.

"Maybe you deserve some credit," I conceded, pushing a container of dumplings toward her. "Now eat. There's way too much food here for us."

She was grinning, clearly pleased with herself. "I'm an excellent wingwoman. You're welcome."

---

Morning arrived with the kind of crisp November sunshine that made everything look sharp and clear.

My phone buzzed with a notification.

*Emergency meeting at 2pm today, Stone Building Room 304. Regarding the Medical Department lecture event. Attendance mandatory.*

I stared at the screen, my pleasant morning mood evaporating. The Alumni Relations Center, where both Olivia and I worked as student coordinators.

Across the room, Olivia's phone chimed with the same notification. She sat bolt upright in bed, her hair sticking up in about fifteen different directions.

"Are you KIDDING me?" She grabbed her phone, squinting at it. "Sunday meeting for the med school lecture series? This is cruel and unusual punishment."

I scrolled through the rapidly filling group chat. Other coordinators were equally outraged:

*This better be important*

*I had brunch plans!!!*

*Can't we do this tomorrow?*

"It's probably just the usual," I said, trying to sound optimistic. "We're assigned to the medical school collaboration group anyway. Statistics, registration numbers, event flow coordination—same as always. Two sentences of instructions and we'll be out of there."

"Yeah, but medical school people are so *boring*," Olivia groaned, flopping back onto her pillow. "Remember last semester? That cardiology symposium where the speaker droned on about arterial plaques for two hours? I wanted to die."

"At least we just handle logistics." I was already mentally planning the afternoon. "Count attendees, cue the program flow, make sure the microphones work. Easy. We'll be done by three and back here for naps."

"You're way too optimistic." But she was already dragging herself out of bed.

After meeting, we headed to the venue.

We'd arrived late and taken seats near the back, so we ended up near the end of the line.

That's when I noticed them.

A cluster of girls had gathered by the windows instead of leaving, each clutching their assignment sheets. Even from across the room, I could see the way their fingers gripped the papers, the way they kept glancing at each other with barely suppressed excitement.

"What's their deal?" Olivia muttered, noticing them too. "Did someone assign them a lecture with a celebrity or something?"

I shrugged, reaching for an assignment sheet from the stack on the desk. "Maybe one of the speakers is famous in medical circles?"