The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 126

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The Forbidden Throb

Chapter 126

Emma’s POV:

Heat flooded my face.

“I wasn’t-1 was just-documenting the conference! For reference!”

“Mm-hmm. Professor Laurent’s lips twitched. “And I’m sure you’ll need photographic evidence of that particular screen for your academic

records.”

Her teasing smile still lingered in my mind as I retreated to the conference lounge, my cheeks burning.

The main auditorium’s interpretation booths formed a curved array at the back-transparent glass walls that made every translator visible to

the audience below.

I’d just finished translating Professor Laurent’s morning interview and desperately needed coffee to steady my nerves.

The seats were filling rapidly, nearly ninety percent occupied.

“Miss Johnson?” A medical equipment representative approached, his French-accented English precise. “Your work with Professor Laurent has been exceptional. Our hospital frequently hosts international conferences…”

Another business card. Another polite smile, I didn’t quite feel.

I’d lost count of how many people had approached me this morning.

Professor Laurent materialized beside me with an espresso. “Beauty truly is a universal language in academia,” she observed, her tone half- amused, half-concerned. “At this rate, you won’t need my recommendation letters anymore.”

Before I could respond, the main doors swung open.

The murmur of conversation died instantly.

Daniel walked in, flanked by the Mass General medical team. Even from across the crowded hall, the shift in atmosphere was palpable-like watching everyone simultaneously hold their breath.

“Your husband has arrived,” Professor Laurent murmured. “You should see the way people look at him-like he’s already won the Nobel Prize.”

He wore a charcoal three-piece suit paired with an indigo silk tie. The cut emphasized his tall frame, and his movements carried that particular grace of someone who’d spent years in operating theaters, where every motion mattered.

As he ascended to the stage and settled into the central chair, adjusting his presentation notes with methodical precision, I couldn’t look away.

The whispers started immediately. I caught “Prescott” repeated in hushed, reverent tones from the young doctors in the front row.

My heart clenched with something complicated-pride, certainly, but also a gnawing unease.

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Chapter 126

Here, in this public forum, Daniel belonged to the entire medical community. I was just one of hundreds watching him, indistinguishable from any other admirer in the crowd.

Through the glass, I could see Daniel conversing with the moderator.

“If Dr. Prescott ever decided to leave medicine for Hollywood,” Professor Laurent mused while adjusting her headset, he’d win an Oscar without even trying.

He would, I thought. He absolutely would.

“But we can’t stay to watch the full keynote,” Professor Laurent continued, checking her schedule. “The French Cardiology Society has three young innovators presenting in Conference Room B. Marc specifically requested we cover them for the documentary series.”

I followed Professor Laurent to the adjacent conference room.

Each interview revealed another facet of this world Daniel inhabited-the collaboration, the innovation, the relentless pursuit of better

outcomes.

I translated technical terminology I’d only encountered in Daniel’s papers, asked follow-up questions in French when Professor Laurent needed

clarification, and felt my understanding deepen with every exchange.

By the time we finished, it was nearly noon. The morning sessions were wrapping up for lunch.

“Excellent work, Emma,” Professor Laurent said, reviewing her recordings. “Your medical French has improved dramatically. Go refresh yourself.”

I nodded gratefully and made my way to the restroom, suddenly aware of how drained I felt.

The fluorescent lights revealed slightly smudged mascara and lipstick that needed reapplication. I’d been so focused on the interviews that I hadn’t noticed my appearance deteriorating.

When I emerged, I found Professor Laurent, Sarah, and Marc in an animated discussion near the corridor’s end. Marc looked agitated, running his hand through his blond hair repeatedly.

“Emma! Thank God.” Marc rushed toward me. “We have a situation.”

My stomach dropped. “What happened?”

“The French Professor Hermann. He wants a detailed technical session with Daniel about the surgical modifications, but he insists on simultaneous interpretation, not consecutive. His hearing isn’t what it used to be.”

Marc ran his hand through his hair again, frustration evident.

“The problem is, English-French simultaneous interpreters are already scarce in the medical field. Everyone we have is assigned to specific

sessions.”

Marc turned to me, his sea-blue eyes earnest.

“Emma, I know this is short notice, and I know it’s asking a lot. But you’re the only one with the language skills and the medical

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Chapter 126

comprehension to handle it.

“Emma, Professor Laurent interjected. She turned to me, her expression serious. “This is different from the keynote-it il be an unscripted technical deep dive with Q&A. No prepared script, high risk of specialized terminology.”

Marc added quickly, “We’d pay the standard conference rate-€150 per hour, estimated ninety minutes.”

This was a professional opportunity, certainly, but also a terrifying risk.

Professor Laurent pulled me aside. “Listen to me carefully. Don’t let the money cloud your judgment. Unscripted technical presentations are a minefield. The error tolerance is essentially zero.”

Her voice dropped. “I can call some medical PhD students I know in Paris-they do freelance interpretation. They might be available.”

I touched the purple crystal bracelet, feeling its familiar weight.

These past weeks, I’d read every one of Daniel’s published papers multiple times. I’d created trilingual terminology charts. I’d watched countless surgical videos on YouTube just to understand the procedures he described.

I’d been preparing for this, perhaps without realizing it.

“Professor,” I met her gaze directly, “I want to try. I’ve studied Dr. Prescott’s research extensively. This isn’t beyond my capability.”

Sarah spoke up from behind us. “The girl’s performance this morning was exceptional. Why shouldn’t she handle it?”

Marc’s face lit up. “Miss Johnson! You are truly an angel.”

Professor Laurent sighed, but I caught pride in her eyes. “Alright. But promise me you’ll signal if you hit a wall. Professional ethics matter more

than pride.”

I nodded, feeling something shift inside me.

At 1:45 PM, I entered Conference Room C. The booth equipment checked out perfectly. I adjusted the chair height, ran through breathing exercises, practiced hand gestures in the air.

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