When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 51

Amelia

I drummed my fingers nervously on the conference room table as Dr. Matthews cleared her throat, commanding the attention of our entire obstetrics department.

The weekly staff meeting usually bored me to tears with administrative updates and scheduling conflicts, but today felt different. Dr. Matthews had that look—the one that meant something big was coming.

"Before we wrap up," she said, shuffling her papers, "I have an exciting announcement. New York Central has been selected to partner with Boston Royal Women's Hospital for their advanced obstetrics training program."

A murmur rippled through the room. Boston Royal was legendary in our field—cutting-edge research, world-class specialists, the kind of place that transformed good doctors into exceptional ones.

"We've nominated our top performers for this three-year fellowship opportunity," Dr. Matthews continued, her eyes scanning the room. "And I'm pleased to announce that Dr. Amelia Thompson has been selected as one of our candidates."

My head snapped up. Did I hear that right? My name? The room suddenly felt too warm, and I could feel curious eyes turning toward me.

"Congratulations, Amelia," Dr. Matthews smiled warmly. "This is incredibly competitive. Only five doctors nationwide were chosen."

I managed to nod and mumble a thank you while my mind raced. Boston. Three years. A career-defining opportunity that doctors twice my age would kill for. But also—three years away from New York. Away from everything. Away from... Ethan.

As the meeting disbanded, Dr. Matthews pulled me aside in the hallway. The fluorescent lights highlighted the gray streaks in her dark hair—battle scars from decades of night shifts and difficult deliveries.

"You have one week to decide," she said, squeezing my arm gently. "I know it's a big step. But Amelia, these opportunities don't come twice."

I swallowed hard. "I don't know what to say. Thank you for recommending me."

"You earned it," she replied firmly. "I've watched you grow from a nervous intern dropping charts to one of the most promising young OBs I've seen. Whatever you decide, I'm proud of you."

Her words made my throat tighten. Dr. Matthews had been more than a mentor—she'd been the steady, guiding hand I'd never had from my own mother. Without her belief in me, I wouldn't be the doctor I was today.

Back in my office, I stared blankly at patient files while my thoughts tumbled over each other. Boston. A fresh start. Professional advancement. Independence. All things I'd dreamed of.

But then Ethan's face flashed in my mind—that rare, genuine smile he sometimes let slip when he thought I wasn't looking. The way he'd rushed to my rescue at my father's party. How his arms felt like safety when everything else was chaos.

"Shit," I muttered, closing the last file. This timing couldn't be worse. Just when I was finally starting to see beyond Ethan's cold facade, just when something real seemed possible between us...

I glanced at my watch—6:30 PM. With sudden determination, I grabbed my purse and keys. I'd make dinner tonight. A proper thank-you for what he'd done, protecting me from Felix. Maybe over dinner, I could gauge where we stood, what all this meant to him. Then I could think more clearly about Boston.

---

By 7:30, the apartment smelled amazing. I'd thrown together Ethan's favorites—herb-crusted salmon, roasted asparagus, and garlic mashed potatoes. I wasn't a chef by any stretch, but my grandfather had insisted I learn the basics of cooking, claiming no Thompson should rely entirely on takeout.

I checked my phone again—no messages from Ethan. I'd texted him an hour ago, but silence. Not unusual for him, really. I set the table, dimmed the lights, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

By 9:30, the salmon was dry, the potatoes congealed, and my mood had soured. So much for my grand gesture. I was contemplating wrapping everything up and going to bed when I heard the front door open.

Ethan walked in looking exhausted, his usually immaculate appearance slightly disheveled. His blue tie hung loosely around his neck, and his hair was mussed as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly.

"You're still up," he said, seeming surprised to find me in the kitchen.

"I made dinner," I replied, gesturing awkwardly toward the cold food. "Hours ago, actually."

Something shifted in his expression—a flash of what looked like genuine regret. "I didn't see your text until just now. Work was... complicated today."

"It's fine." I shrugged, trying to sound casual. "I just wanted to thank you. For what you did at my father's party with Felix."

Ethan set his briefcase down and moved closer, his blue eyes warming slightly. "You didn't need to do that."

"I wanted to." The words came out softer than I intended.

As he approached, I caught a whiff of something that made my stomach clench—a light, floral scent that definitely wasn't his usual cologne. My eyes instinctively dropped to his collar, where a faint smudge of pink was barely visible against the white fabric.

Lipstick. And perfume. Not mine.

I felt like I'd been slapped. While I was here cooking dinner, feeling grateful, feeling confused about my growing attraction to him, he'd been... where exactly? And with whom?

"Let me heat this up," I said, my voice suddenly hollow as I turned away to hide whatever emotions might be showing on my face.

"You don't have to—"

"It's no trouble." I busied myself with plates and the microwave, mind racing. Our marriage was a contract, wasn't it? One that was supposed to end in less than a month. He owed me nothing.

While we sat in awkward silence, eating reheated food, Boston suddenly felt like exactly what I needed—a world away from this man who could make my heart race one moment and shatter it the next.

"Is everything okay?" Ethan asked, watching me push salmon around my plate.

I smiled tightly. "Just tired. Long day."

And as the conversation dragged on, I silently practiced how I would tell Olivia how I felt. Would she support me if I decided to go abroad?