When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 97

Ethan

Watching Amelia walk away without a backward glance, I didn't see her true feeling just now.

I headed to the smoking area and took a long drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. The hospital's designated smoking area wasn't exactly comfortable, but it gave me a moment to think.

"Did the flowers get delivered this morning?" I asked Michael, who stood a few feet away checking emails on his phone.

"Yes, sir. Pink roses this time." Michael glanced up from his screen.

I nodded, taking another drag. The nicotine wasn't calming my nerves like it used to. Nothing seemed to work anymore. Nothing except seeing her.

As I moved to crush my cigarette in the ashtray, something caught my eye in the nearby trash bin. A bouquet of pink roses lay discarded among coffee cups and food wrappers.

I stared at the crumpled arrangement, my finger unconsciously tapping against the metal railing.

Sending flowers didn't seem like a viable option.

Pulling out my phone, I navigated to Amelia's Instagram profile. The same message appeared as it had for the past three years: "User not found." I switched to Facebook with identical results.

"This woman is really fucking difficult," I muttered, shoving the phone back into my pocket.

Michael cleared his throat. "Perhaps you should try a different approach, sir."

I remained silent, eyes fixed on those discarded roses. She could throw away my flowers, but she couldn't throw away what we had. What we still have.

"Perhaps I should," I finally said.

---

The hospital room was suffocating me. Three days was long enough to establish contact with Amelia, but now I needed to move. I needed to act. I'd dressed in one of my best suits – dark charcoal with a subtle pinstripe – knowing it would be the last impression I'd leave on her in this place.

The door opened, and there she was. Amelia. Her white coat couldn't hide the curves I remembered so well, and her hair was pulled back in that practical ponytail she always wore at work. Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.

"Good morning, Dr. Thompson," I said, keeping my voice deliberately calm.

"Mr. Black," she replied with professional detachment. "I'm here to inform you that you've been cleared for discharge today."

I decided to cut through the bullshit. "I heard you threw away my flowers."

Her eyes widened slightly – a small victory. I'd caught her off guard.

"I... my office is small. I don't have room for flower arrangements," she stammered.

Bullshit. I could see through her excuses like glass. "Remove me from your social media blacklist, and I'll stop sending flowers."

"What?" Her professional mask slipped. "You're still blocked because I don't want you in my life, Ethan. What exactly do you want from me?"

I held her gaze, unflinching. "I love you. I want us to be together again. For real this time."

I watched her face carefully, searching for any crack in her defenses. There was something there – a flicker of... what? Doubt? Longing? It disappeared too quickly for me to be sure.

"Your current behavior is seriously affecting my work environment," she said, her voice tight. "My colleagues are starting to ask questions."

She had a point. The hospital approach wasn't working. Time to switch tactics.

"You're right," I conceded. "Staying in the hospital isn't the best approach." I let my lips curve into a slight smile. "I'll discharge myself immediately."

I could see suspicion flash across her face. She knew me too well to believe I'd give up so easily. Good. Let her wonder what I'm planning next.

"I'll have the paperwork sent up," she said, turning to leave.

"You're making this much harder than it needs to be, Amelia," I called after her.

She paused at the door but didn't turn around. "No, Ethan. You are."

I reached for my phone the moment she left. "Michael, prepare the car. I'm being discharged today."

"Right away, sir," Michael replied promptly. "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

I straightened my tie and gathered my personal items. The hospital stay had served its purpose – I'd reestablished contact with Amelia. Now it was time for phase two.

When Michael arrived, we headed to the discharge desk where a nurse handed over the final paperwork. I signed where indicated, then examined the form with Amelia's signature. Her handwriting was still the same – neat, precise, with a slight tilt to the right. I folded the paper carefully and placed it in my inner jacket pocket, close to my heart.

---

The black sedan glided smoothly through Manhattan traffic. I watched the hospital building recede in the side mirror, already planning my next move.

"Where to, sir?" Michael asked from the driver's seat.

"Is the riverside apartment renovation complete?" I asked, still looking out the window.

Michael's eyes met mine briefly in the rearview mirror. I could see his surprise, though his voice remained professional. "Yes, sir. The renovations were completed last week."

"Good. Let's go there."

"To the riverside apartment?" He couldn't quite keep the surprise from his voice this time.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" I replied, my attention drawn to a mother pushing a stroller on the sidewalk. I couldn't help but wonder if Amelia had been taking care of her child alone like that over the past few years.

"Of course, sir. The apartment is ready." Michael navigated through traffic with practiced ease. After a moment, he ventured, "May I ask about your plans moving forward?"

I smiled, feeling a sense of purpose I hadn't felt in years. "More surprises, Michael. I'm going to make it impossible for her to continue ignoring my existence."

The weight of the discharge paper in my pocket reminded me of what I was fighting for. Amelia might think she was done with me, but I was just getting started. Three years was long enough. I'd given her space. Now it was time to show her what my feelings for her truly meant.