The Forbidden Throb Chapter 88

Emma's POV:

His hand gripped his phone, screen glowing blue, but he never looked down at it. His gaze never left Eve for more than a few seconds at a time.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I took a subtle half-step closer to Eve, positioning myself slightly between them.

Should I say something? I glanced at Eve, who was scrolling through her phone, seemingly unaware. Maybe I'm overreacting.

The man's eyes flicked to me, and he immediately pulled his hood lower, but he didn't move. Didn't walk away. Just stood there, watching.

My pulse quickened. No. This isn't normal.

I turned toward Eve, opening my mouth to say something—

"Ms. Miller," a breathless voice interrupted.

Eve's assistant from this morning—Chloe, the young woman with the red ponytail—hurried up to us through the crowd.

Her expression was tight with worry, and her eyes kept darting nervously toward the back of the line.

"He's here again," she said quietly, leaning in close so only we could hear.

Eve's face remained perfectly composed, but something surprised behind her eyes. "Where?"

Chloe glanced nervously in the direction of the hooded man, then back to Eve. "He approached me about ten minutes ago. Asked if he could speak with you." She swallowed. "I told him you weren't available and that he needed to leave."

"I see." Eve's voice was flat, emotionless.

She glanced briefly over her shoulder—I followed her gaze and spotted the hooded man again, still watching—then turned back to us. "Just ignore him. "

I wanted to ask what was happening, but I caught myself. This was clearly personal. If she wanted to share, she would. Prying felt wrong.

"Actually," Eve said, her tone shifting to something lighter, "this rain isn't stopping anytime soon. How about we grab coffee somewhere nearby?"

"That sounds perfect," I said immediately. "I could use some caffeine anyway."

Harbor View Café occupied a corner of the Convention Center's second floor, all floor-to-ceiling windows and modern minimalist décor.

The view overlooked Portland's harbor, where rain pounded the docks and sent tourists scurrying for cover.

Eve chose a small round table directly within sight of the cashier and the security cameras mounted on the walls.

I sat across from her, hands wrapped around a cappuccino.

Eve snapped the compact shut and looked directly at me. For a long moment, she seemed to be weighing something.

"That man," she said finally, "is someone I briefly dated last year. We broke up, and now he's back, claiming I owe him 'closure compensation.'"

I didn't know what to say. I hadn't expected that. Eve seemed so put-together, so in control of every aspect of her life.

"I'm sorry you're dealing with this," I said quietly.

Eve gave me a genuine smile. "Thank you for not asking for details. Most people can't resist."

We sipped our drinks in companionable silence.

Through the window, I watched the rain continue its assault on Portland, turning the harbor into a study in gray and silver.

"So," Eve said after a moment, her tone shifting back to professional. "What's your plan after graduation? You strike me as someone with clear goals."

I hesitated, then decided honesty was better than false confidence.

"I want to do journalism. I've been applying to major media outlets, but..." I shrugged. "Most of my applications have gone nowhere. "

"That's completely normal," Eve said, her tone reassuring. "Graduation season is when the job market gets flooded with applicants. Everyone's competing for the same positions."

She took a sip of her espresso. "But I heard you're part of an international medical journalism project now. That kind of specialized experience—that's what will set you apart. Once you have that on your resume, I think you'll start seeing better responses."

The encouragement lifted some of the weight I'd been carrying. "I hope you're right."

I said quietly. "And thank you for this opportunity. I know I got selected partly because of my French minor, but honestly, it's the experience you gave me during my first internship that made the real difference."

Eve's expression softened. "You're giving me too much credit. You already had the instincts. "

I took a breath, gathering courage. "Can I ask... why did you choose me for this project? I'm sure you had candidates with more experience."

Eve set down her cup, studying me with those sharp, assessing eyes.

"Honestly?" She paused, as if weighing how much to reveal. "When I first saw your portfolio and headshot... you reminded me of someone."

My heart skipped. "Someone?"

"Or rather, someone that a very old friend of mine..." She stopped, choosing her words carefully. "...cares about deeply."

I stared at her, completely lost. "I... I'm not sure I understand."

"You don't need to." Eve's smile was enigmatic. "Just know you're here on your own merit. The resemblance is just... a happy coincidence."

The rain had finally tapered to a drizzle by the time Eve called us a taxi.

We parted ways at our hotel with plans to meet at 10 AM tomorrow for the vendor meeting.

"Get some rest," she instructed as I left. "Tomorrow's going to be long."

"Thank you again," I said. "For everything today. And for the coffee."

"See you tomorrow, Emma."

I watched her leave, then turned and walked to my room.

*Someone that a very old friend cares about deeply.*

Who could she possibly mean?

I shook my head, pulling out my phone. A message from Daniel waited:

*Heavy rainstorm alert for Portland. Be careful if you need to go out.*

I smiled despite my exhaustion and typed back:

*I've been running non-stop all day and completely forgot to check my phone. Just got back to the hotel now. Don't worry—everything's fine!*

His reply came almost instantly:

*How was your first day?*

I glanced at my rain-soaked shoes by the door, thought of the hours spent familiarizing myself with the layout of the venue and learning about its prized violin collection, and typed:

*Long but productive, I think.*