The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 165

Chapter 165

Emma’s POV:

I stared at my phone screen, watching those three dots pulse where Daniel’s next message should appear.

Why wouldn’t he want me in his class?

Then his message came through:

Daniel: My course standards are very strict. I wouldn’t give special treatment even to my wife.

I felt my face flush hot,

I bit my lip, thinking about what he’d said, Strict standards. No special treatment.

He really was like that, wasn’t he? Even to those moments in Paris when he’d been teaching me… other things. The way he’d been so careful, so attentive, making sure I understood every sensation, every response.

The way he’d asked “Does this feel good?” and “Tell me what you need” with the same focused intensity he probably used when teaching

My face burned hotter at the memory,

God, even in bed, he was a teacher. A very thorough, very dedicated teacher who took his wife’s “education” extremely seriously.

I made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a whimper, pressing my phone against my burning face. Olivia glanced over from her desk, eyebrow raised, but I waved her off.

Another message appeared:

Daniel: I’ve already spoken with everyone at Mass General who’s met you. Asked them to protect your privacy-not to leak any information about Dr. Prescott’s wife. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.

I lowered my phone slowly, something warm and tight expanding in my chest.

That’s why I’d been able to visit the hospital so many times these past weeks without a single photo appearing on social media, without whispers following me through the corridors. I’d thought I’d just been lucky, flying under the radar.

But it wasn’t luck. It was Daniel, quietly arranging things, protecting me from scrutiny I hadn’t even known to worry about.

My throat felt oddly thick.

**Me: I miss you.

Daniel: Just hold on a few more days. I’ll pick you home.

I typed back a simple “okay,” fighting to keep the ridiculous smile off my face.

8:53 am Pppp.

Chapter 165

The next few days passed exactly as Daniel had predicted-quickly.

I was in my room, carefully folding clothes into my overnight bag when Olivia burst through the door.

“Emma! Check BU Confessions right now!”

Her voice had that edge it got when she was in full journalist mode-sharp, urgent, barely controlled. I looked up from my suitcase to find her brandishing her phone like evidence at a crime scene.

“What-”

“Someone posted photos of you. From Paris.”

The sweater slipped from my hands.

“What?”

“Here.” She thrust her phone at me, and I saw she’d already taken screenshots. “I saved the original post in case they delete it.”

My fingers felt numb as I took her phone. The post was on BU Confessions-an anonymous Instagram account where students submitted gossip, confessions, and the occasional heartfelt declaration. Twenty thousand followers. I’d never paid much attention to it before.

Now my own face stared back at me from the screen.

Two photos. The first showed Daniel holding my hand, tucked into his coat pocket. The second caught me getting into a taxi, the angle making it look like I was leaning up to kiss him.

The caption made my stomach turn:

Spotted: Everyone’s favorite journalism “good girl” getting very cozy with her benefactor in Paris. That Burberry coat, that Patek Philippe-honey, we see you. Or should I say, we see him paying for you. Note to self: if you’re going to play sugar baby, maybe don’t do it on the Champs-Elysées…

The post had been edited. I could see the timestamp-originally posted an hour ago, but the caption had been changed to just “Paris encounter” thirty minutes later. Someone had made them tone it down.

But the damage was done. The post had already been shared to half a dozen other campus gossip accounts.

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The Forbidden Throb