The Forbidden Throb (Emma and Daniel) novel Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Emma’s POV

In my dream.

I’m sixteen again, standing in the rain outside the Williams house-my mother’s new home, but never quite mine.

My suitcase sits beside me, growing heavier by the minute, or maybe it’s just my heart.

It’s Thanksgiving break.

The boarding school emptied hours ago, girls rushing into waiting cars, squealing with excitement over family dinners and long weekends.

I called Victoria three times before going home to confirm they would be home.

“Of course, Emma,” she’d said, sounding distracted. “Around four. We’re having dinner together at six, so don’t be late.”

I arrived at 3:45, precisely. It’s now nearly 5:30, and the house remains dalk, the driveway empty.

My jacket is soaked through, and my fingers have gone numb from the November chill. I’ve tried calling, but no one answers.

They forgot. Or maybe something came up that was more important than picking me up-more important than me.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

When I chose the boarding school, Victoria seemed relieved. Robert never hid his preference for a quieter house, one without a moody teenage stepdaughter wandering the halls.

My half-brother Leo was only three then, the center of their world. I was the complication, the remnant of Victoria’s first marriage, a

responsibility rather than a joy.

I slide down against the front door, hugging my knees to my chest.

The rain has slowed to a drizzle, but the damage is done. I’m soaked, cold and utterly alone.

A sleek black car pulls into the cul-de-sac, slowing as it approaches,

Not my mother’s practical sedan or Robert’s company car. This vehicle screams wealth and taste-expensive, intimidating.

It stops in front of the house, and a tall figure emerges,

He approaches with measured steps, elegant even in casual clothes.

I recognize him immediately-Daniel Prescott. I’d seen him once before, when his grandfather David Prescott hosted a dinner shortly after I

first moved to Boston,

“Emma?” His voice carries across the lawn, a note of surprise evident. “What are you doing out here?”

I struggle to my feet, embarrassed by my bedraggled appearance and the vious situation. “Waiting for my family,” I manage, trying to sound casual rather than pathetic.

His brow furrows as he glances at the dark house, then back at me. “They went to Cape Cod for the weekend. Victoria mentioned taking Leo to see the whales. Did they not tell you?”

The information hits like a physical blow. They went on vacation without me. After I called. After I confirmed.

Daniel seems to read the answer on my face. His expression softens with something that might be pity, but somehow doesn’t feel patronizing.

Come on,” he says, reaching for my suitcase. “You’re coming home with me.”

I start to protest-I barely know him-but he cuts me off with gentle firmness.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, his voice gentle but firm. “My grandfather is at home too. You can stay with us until your mother returns. We’ll contact her and let her know where you are. I can’t leave you out here like this.”

In the warmth of his car, I finally stop shivering.

We drive in silence through the rain-slicked streets of Boston until we reach Beacon Hill. The Prescott home rises before us, a stately brownstone that emanates old money and refined taste.

The corner of Daniel’s mouth quirks upward in what might be amusement at my reaction.

“I see you need more time,” he says, his voice neutral but with a hint of warmth. “Eat your breakfast first. I have rounds to make.”

He heads toward the door with that same measured, confident stride.

Only when it closes behind him do I finally catch my breath, my heart racing as I unwrap the bagel with trembling fingers.

So it was real. All of it. And now I have no idea what to do.

I finish my breakfast slowly, trying to sort through my jumbled thoughts.

The bagel is perfectly toasted with just the right amount of cream cheese somehow Daniel had remembered how I like it from that day at the

coffee shop.

After finishing my breakfast quickly, I head to the nurses’ station to inquire about discharge procedures. As I approach, I hear hushed voices

around the corner.

-can’t believe the hospital director is being so obvious about it. Did you fear he invited Dr. Prescott to dinner at his house for the third time

this month? Everyone knows his daughter Caroline just ‘happens’ to be there every time.”

“You know Daniel never takes the baît. He’s dodged every setup the board members have tried.”

“Well, the director is determined this time. His daughter is starting at the hospital next month-Harvard Medical graduate, perfect credentials. He’s probably hoping they’ll develop feelings working side by side. You know how these things go.”

Good luck to them. That man is married to his work. Unless…”

There’s a sudden pause as both nurses notice me standing there.

They exchange meaningful glances before their professional masks slide back into place, conversation abruptly halted.