The Forbidden Throb Chapter 167

Emma's POV:

The entire auditorium had gone silent, a thousand people collectively holding their breath, waiting for Daniel's answer.

Under the spotlight, Daniel stood perfectly still. His hand rested lightly on the podium's edge, his posture relaxed despite the chaos he'd just unleashed with his confession.

When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost intimate, yet it carried perfectly through the hushed space.

"That young lady..." He paused, and I watched his chest rise with a slow breath.

I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Then his eyes lifted from Blake, sweeping slowly across the front rows, moving past the middle section, until they settled—unmistakably, deliberately—on the back corner where I stood frozen.

The corner of his mouth curved upward.

"In fact," he said, his voice carrying that same quiet certainty that had always made me feel safe, "she's my wife now. Mrs. Prescott."

The world exploded.

The sound hit like a physical force—screams, whistles, applause erupting from every corner of the lecture hall in a deafening wave.

Students jumped to their feet. Someone knocked over a water bottle that clattered down the auditorium steps. The medical school dean's mouth fell open in shock. The moderator's notebook slipped from her hands and hit the floor with a thud no one could hear over the chaos.

"Oh my GOD!" Olivia's shriek pierced through my paralysis, but her hands clamped over her own mouth instead of grabbing my arm. Her eyes were wide with gleeful shock as she leaned in close, her voice dropping to an excited whisper only I could hear. "Emma! It like some romantic movie declaration."

She was practically vibrating with excitement, her grin so wide it looked painful.

"Olivia—" I started, my voice barely functioning.

"No, no, don't even try to deflect." She grabbed my hand, squeezing it. "I'm the only one here who knows the truth, and oh my God, Emma, this is like... this is *cinematic*. The mysterious marriage, the secret romance, and now the grand public declaration?"

She fanned herself dramatically. "I'm living for this."

Her voice dissolved into incoherent excitement, but I barely heard her. My entire focus remained locked on Daniel, standing there under the spotlight with that small, private smile still playing at his lips.

Around us, the female students' reactions created a symphony of emotion. Disappointed sighs mixed with excited chatter. Some looked crushed, others intrigued. Several had already pulled out their phones, fingers flying across screens.

"Someone screenshot that!" a girl near us hissed to her friend.

"I'm already tweeting it—#DrPrescottMarried is going to trend, I'm calling it now."

"Wait, wait, who *is* she? Does anyone know?"

I took a small step backward, instinctively retreating deeper into the shadows behind the registration table. My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched the female students around us transform from admirers into investigators, their phones out, their expressions ranging from curious to almost predatory.

*If they find out right now*, I thought, my mouth going dry, *I'll become public enemy number one on this entire campus.*

---

On stage, Daniel had finally extracted himself from the cluster of faculty. He moved with purpose toward the side of the stage where his briefcase sat, his movements economical and deliberate.

Several students tried to intercept him, but he navigated around them with the same polite deflection.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled for it, nearly dropping it in my haste.

**Daniel:** *Lecture hall's west side exit. Wait for me there after the room clears.*

I typed back with shaking hands: *Okay.*

"Emma!" One of the other volunteers called out. "Can you help us with these boxes?"

"Coming!" I called back, shoving my phone into my pocket.

---

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of activity.

I helped stack chairs, organized leftover programs, and smiled and nodded at people whose words I didn't actually hear. My entire being was focused on one thing: getting to that west side exit.

"You sure you're okay?" Olivia asked as we finished packing the last box of materials. "You've been kind of spacey."

"Just tired," I lied, checking my phone for what must have been the twentieth time.

"Tell me about it. " She grabbed her coat. "Want to grab dinner? I'm starving."

"I can't tonight. I have... something I need to take care of."

She paused, and her eyes narrowed with interest. "Something? Or some*one*?" She waggled her eyebrows. "Does this have to do with your husband?"

My face heated. "Yes."

"Uh-huh." She grinned. "Fine, enjoy your secret dating."

She gave me a knowing look before heading toward the main exit.

I waited until the crowd had thinned significantly before making my way toward the west side of the building.

The west side exit was tucked away in a corner, rarely used except by staff. I'd only noticed it during the pre-event walkthrough earlier in the week.

It made sense that Daniel would choose it—private, out of the way, unlikely to attract attention.

I pushed through the door and immediately regretted not grabbing my heavier coat. The temperature had dropped significantly since this afternoon, the kind of sharp cold that came with late winter in Boston.

My breath misted in the air as I huddled in the small alcove by the door, wrapping my cashmere scarf tighter around my neck.

I buried my nose in it, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne that still clung to the fibers from when he'd wrapped it around me himself.

Then I heard it—the heavy door opening from inside.

My heart leaped into my throat. I spun around just as Daniel emerged.

He'd put on his black cashmere overcoat, the collar turned up against the cold. The dim light from the overhead fixture caught the sharp line of his jaw, the aristocratic slope of his nose, the way his dark hair had been slightly mussed by the wind or perhaps by running his hands through it.

His wire-rimmed glasses reflected the light, hiding his eyes, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.

"Hi," I breathed, the word coming out smaller than I'd intended.

The corner of his mouth curved up. "Hi yourself."

Then he was moving, closing the distance between us in three long strides, and suddenly I was in his arms. His arms wrapped around my waist and shoulders, pulling me against him with an intensity.

"Come on," he said, his arm still tight around my waist. "Let's get out of here."

He didn't give me time to respond, just started walking, half-guiding, half-carrying me along the side of the building.

"Where are we going?" I asked, breathless.

"Somewhere private."