The Forbidden Throb Chapter 75

Emma's POV:

Through the gap, I could see Quinn's back go rigid, his shoulders drawing up toward his ears in the universal posture of someone who'd just realized they'd made a terrible mistake.

"Dr. Chen," Daniel repeated, his voice carrying that particular quality I'd come to recognize—calm on the surface, with an undercurrent of something far less forgiving beneath.

Quinn turned slowly, like a man facing his executioner.

His face had gone from animated enthusiasm to pale shock in the space of a heartbeat. "Dr. Prescott, I—I was just—"

"Discussing my personal life with our colleagues?" Daniel's tone remained perfectly even, almost conversational.

Melissa and the other resident had both taken several steps back, their earlier frantic warning gestures now replaced with expressions of horrified sympathy aimed at Quinn.

"I apologize, sir," Quinn stammered, his arms still full of patient files, which he now clutched against his chest like a shield. "I shouldn't have assumed—I mean, she looked so young, and I just thought—"

Daniel adjusted his glasses with one hand, a gesture I'd learned meant he was exercising extreme patience.

"Emma does look younger than her twenty-two years, but she is, in fact, my legally married wife. We've been married for just over a week now."

My face was burning. I could feel the heat spreading from my cheeks down my neck.

Melissa made a small sound—half gasp, half laugh quickly stifled. The other resident looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. And Quinn... Quinn looked like he might actually be sick.

He was definitely turning purple now. "I made a terrible assumption. I apologize profusely. To you, and to Mrs. Prescott."

*Mrs. Prescott.* Hearing someone else say it—especially in this mortified, formal tone—made something twist in my stomach.

A mix of embarrassment and something else. Something warmer.

"I suggest," Daniel said quietly, "that in the future, you refrain from making assumptions about people you've just met. Particularly when it involves spreading information about their personal relationships."

"Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir." Quinn looked ready to dissolve into the floor.

Daniel nodded once. I heard his footsteps approaching the door and quickly stepped back, pressing myself against the wall beside the doorframe.

My heart was racing again.

The door swung open. Daniel stepped inside and immediately spotted me—still pressed against the wall, probably looking like I'd been caught mid-crime.

His expression shifted, the professional mask slipping to reveal something that looked suspiciously like amusement.

His dark eyes glinted behind his glasses as he took in my position, my flushed face, my death grip on my bag strap.

"Eavesdropping on corridor gossip?" he asked, his voice low and tinged with humor.

"I heard them talking about 'Prescott's sister,' and I just—"

"Wanted to see how the story evolved?" He closed the door behind him with a soft click, leaning against it. "Understandable. Though I have to say, hiding in my office wasn't the most effective defense strategy."

I protested weakly. "I was just... waiting. And then Quinn came in, and everything spiraled out of control before I could—"

Daniel's gaze traveled over me slowly, and I felt that heat return to my face.

I touched my hair self-consciously. The ponytail I'd pulled together in the elevator now felt juvenile, held up by a plain elastic I'd found in my bag.

Without really thinking about it, I reached up and pulled the elastic free, feeling the weight of my hair fall around my shoulders. I combed my fingers through them quickly before gathering them again—this time into a low ponytail at the nape of my neck, twisting it once to give it a more intentional, mature look.

"Better?" I asked, tilting my head slightly and giving him a small smile.

The question came out lighter than I'd intended, almost playful.

His gaze dropped to my hair, tracing the line of it where it fell against my neck.

"Much better," he said, his voice lower than before. His eyes darkened slightly behind his glasses. "Though I suspect you could walk in here wearing a paper bag and still cause Quinn to make assumptions."

I laughed—couldn't help it—and some of the tension in my shoulders finally released.

"I brought you something," I said quickly, gesturing toward the desk. "It's not much, but I thought—coming to a hospital empty-handed seemed rude? I wasn't sure what else to do."

Daniel followed my gesture to the fruit basket. The pale blue ribbon was wrapped around the handle.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't make a habit of spending money on me. You don't need to bring anything."

"But I wanted to—" I started to protest.

"I know." His voice softened. "But your company is more than sufficient, Emma."

He looked at the basket. "But since you've already brought the fruit basket, we might as well put it to good use."

"What do you mean?"

His eyes glinted with something that might have been mischief—an expression I'd rarely seen on his usually composed face. "Well, given that apparently half my department thinks you're either my teenage sister, perhaps we should... clarify the situation."

My stomach did a small flip. "Clarify how?"

Daniel said, moving back toward his desk and picking up the fruit basket. "We could distribute this to the staff. Together. As a married couple bringing treats to share."

I nodded. He had a point. A good point, actually.

He picked up the fruit basket with his free hand, his other still holding mine loosely. I found my fingers curling around his, accepting the touch.

"Emma." He said my name more firmly this time, cutting off my spiral. "Breathe."

I did, sucking in air I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Better," he murmured. "And I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

His dark eyes held mine, serious despite the slight smile playing at his lips. "I need you to act like we're actually married. Like we're... close. Affectionate, even. "

Oh. *Oh.* Heat flooded my face as understanding dawned.

"Okay," I heard myself say. "I can do that."

"Good." His hand moved from my chin to rest lightly on my waist.

"Ready?" Daniel asked softly.