The Forbidden Throb Chapter 61

Daniel's POV:

My hands were still steady as I stripped off my surgical gloves, the adrenaline from the emergency procedure beginning to ebb.

Four hours of meticulous work—a complex mitral valve repair on a fifty-two-year-old woman who'd arrested in the ER.

The kind of case that demanded absolute precision, where a millimeter's difference could mean the difference between recovery and permanent damage.

"Dr. Prescott."

I turned to find Luke Richardson leaning against the scrub room doorway, still in his surgical cap, a wry smile playing at his lips.

We'd known each other since kindergarten at Phillips Academy, our families moving in the same Boston circles. If anyone could read my moods, it was Luke.

"That was impressive work in there," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "Four hours straight. You must be exhausted."

"I'm fine." I moved to the sink, methodically washing my hands. "The patient's vitals stabilized. That's what matters."

"Always the stoic one." Luke's tone shifted, becoming more conspiratorial. "Speaking of which, I've had approximately six nurses and two residents cornering me in the last week, asking for your contact information."

My hands stilled briefly under the running water. "And?"

"And I told them you have a girlfriend." He crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. "Bought you some time, at least. Though honestly, that excuse won't hold up much longer. Unless you actually get yourself a girlfriend, which—" He laughed. "We both know the chances of that."

I dried my hands carefully, considering. "Just tell them I'm married."

Luke scoffed. "Oh, that's brilliant. Really creative, Daniel. Didn't you try that one about three years ago? And it fell apart in, what, two weeks."

I folded the paper towel with deliberate precision, meeting his eyes in the mirror's reflection. "Who said it's an excuse?"

Luke's smirk froze. "What?"

"Exactly what it sounds like."

The silence that followed was profound. Luke's expression shifted from amused skepticism to complete bewilderment. "Wait. You mean—you're actually—"

"Married. Yes."

"Daniel." Luke's voice dropped to that particular tone he used when he thought I was being deliberately obtuse.

"That's not— I mean, that's completely unbelievable. You don't just—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his expression shifting from incredulous to calculating.

His eyes narrowed as something clicked in his mind.

"Wait. Wait a second." He stepped closer, scrutinizing my face with the intensity he usually reserved for complex diagnoses. "So those rumors about you walking through the hospital holding hands with a woman, both wearing wedding rings..."

His voice trailed off, realization dawning across his features. "That wasn't just gossip, was it?"

"I explained," I said mildly, rolling down my sleeves. "No one believed me."

"*Because you don't date!*" Luke's voice rose slightly before he caught himself, glancing at the hallway.

"I will now." I adjusted my cuffs with deliberate care. "In fact, I've submitted a request to reduce my surgical schedule. You'll need to pick up the slack."

Luke's jaw went slack. "You— what?"

He pressed his palm against his forehead dramatically. "I'm sorry, have you been replaced by a pod person? Because the Daniel Prescott I know would rather give up breathing than reduce his caseload."

"Priorities change." I fastened my watch, the weight of both the platinum band and the wedding ring settling familiarly on my wrist. "I have other commitments now."

I turned toward my office, but Luke's hand caught my arm

"Oh no. You don't get to just walk away from this conversation." His grip was firm, his voice low and intense. "Daniel, we've known each other since we were five years old. And somehow, you got married without saying a single word? " He stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

I released a quiet breath. "The timeline was compressed."

"Time was—" Luke's laugh was sharp with disbelief. "You've had thirty-one years, Daniel. Where was this urgency before?"

I met his stare evenly. "I was concerned she might reconsider."

That stopped him. Luke's mouth opened, then closed.

His expression shifted from indignation to something resembling wonder. "You... you were actually worried about losing her?"

A slow smile spread across his face. "My God. Daniel Prescott, scared of rejection. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Are you quite finished?"

"Not even close." But the edge had left his voice, replaced by genuine curiosity.

"Okay. Okay. At the minimum, you can tell me who she is. Who's the woman who finally managed to—" He gestured vaguely at me. "—breach the fortress?"

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "Her name is Emma."

Then his eyes widened. "Emma? As in—" He stopped, staring at me with an expression somewhere between shock and disbelief. "Wait. You don't mean *that* Emma, do you? Emma Johnson? Nicholas's Emma?"

"She was never Nicholas's." The words came out sharper than intended. I modified my tone. "They separated. Before Emma and I began anything."

"*Before.*" Luke was staring at me like I'd grown a second head. "Daniel, you... when you decide to be ruthless, you really commit, don't you? Your own brother's girlfriend—"

"*Ex*-girlfriend," I corrected. "Nicholas ended that relationship through his own choices. I merely... offered an alternative."

Luke dragged a hand through his hair, making it stand up in wild tufts. "Does Nicholas know?"

"Maybe not."

"Oh, this is going to be a disaster. You know that, right? Nicholas is going to lose his mind."

"He doesn't love her." The words came out sharper than I'd intended. "He never understood her at all."

"Daniel. Brother. With all due respect and affection... have you completely fucking lost it?"

I considered the question with the seriousness it deserved. By any objective measure, my recent decisions had been uncharacteristic.

"Perhaps," I admitted. "Though I prefer to think of it as... overdue."

"Overdue—" Luke shook his head slowly. "I'm starting to think your rebellious phase just got delayed by about fifteen years."

"If that makes it easier to accept."

"Right. Okay." Luke straightened, visibly pulling himself together. "So when do I get to meet her? Dinner? Coffee? "

I shook my head slowly. "She's... reserved. And you're exhausting."

Luke's mouth fell open. "*I'm* exhausting? Daniel, I'm the most normal person in this entire conversation. Compared to you—the guy who just casually announced he got married like he was commenting on the weather—I am a beacon of rationality and normalcy."

Luke left with a final incredulous head shake, and I returned to my office, allowing the corners of my mouth to curve upward. Exhaustion settled into my bones, but beneath it ran something lighter.

My phone sat on the desk where I'd left it, screen dark.

I picked it up.

*One missed call: Emma.*

*Timestamp: 9:47 PM*

My heart rate spiked in a way that four hours of complex surgery hadn't managed. Emma never called unless something was wrong.

A call meant urgency. Possibly distress.

I was dialing before I'd consciously decided to move, the phone already pressed to my ear as it began to ring.

*Please pick up.*

The call connected.

"Daniel?"

Her voice was small, shaky—nothing like the careful composure she usually maintained.