The Healer Who Breaks His Rules: Dangerous Territory: Chapter 3

Everything changes when he touches me

Two weeks of stolen midnight hours.

Two weeks of whispered conversations in empty stairwells, of coffee appearing on my locker, of Gabriel's fingers brushing mine when he hands me charts.

Two weeks of pretending this careful dance between us is nothing.

It's everything.

"You're different," Jenny observes, cornering me by the vending machines. "Happier. More... I don't know, alive?"

"I don't know what you mean."

But I do. I catch myself humming. I smile at patients without forcing it. I sleep better on the nights when Gabriel and I share those quiet hours, talking about everything except what's happening between us.

"It's someone," she presses. "Come on, details. Who is he?"

Before I can deflect, Dr. Morrison appears beside us. The head of surgery has shark eyes and a reputation for destroying careers that inconvenience him.

"Ms. Chen," he says, voice sharp as a scalpel. "A word."

My stomach drops, but I follow him to his office.

"Are you familiar with hospital policy regarding fraternization between staff members?" he asks without preamble.

"Of course."

"Good. Because certain behaviors have come to my attention." He leans back, studying me like I'm a specimen. "Late-night meetings in unauthorized areas. Coffee exchanges. Extended personal conversations during work hours."

Heat flashes through me, followed immediately by ice-cold fear.

Someone's been watching us.

"I'm not sure what you're implying—"

"Dr. Santos is one of our most valuable surgeons," Morrison continues, cutting me off. "His focus cannot be compromised by... distractions. Do I make myself clear?"

The message is crystal: I'm the distraction. I'm the problem.

"Crystal," I whisper.

"Excellent. I trust this conversation will resolve the situation."

I stumble out of his office, chest tight with panic and shame. Of course this was too good to last. Of course someone like Gabriel—brilliant, accomplished, necessary—couldn't really want someone like me.

I avoid the south stairwell that night.

And the next.

On the third night, Gabriel finds me in the break room where this all started.

"You've been avoiding me."

I don't look up from my chart. "I don't know what you mean."

"Emma." He sits across from me, voice gentle. "What's wrong?"

Everything. Morrison's warning. The way the other staff are starting to whisper when they see us together. The growing certainty that I'm going to destroy his career just by existing near him.

"This has to stop," I say to the table.

Silence. Then: "Look at me."

I can't. If I look at him, I'll crumble.

"Emma, look at me."

His fingers touch my chin, the same gentle pressure as that first night. Despite everything, I let him lift my face.

His gray eyes are storm-dark with something I can't name.

"What happened?" he asks.

"Morrison knows." The words tumble out. "He knows about the stairwells, the coffee, all of it. He made it very clear that I'm... that you can't afford distractions."

Gabriel's jaw tightens. "He said that to you?"

"He's not wrong." I pull back from his touch before I lose my resolve. "You have everything to lose here. I'm just—"

"Just what?"

"Nobody important."

The words hang between us like a blade.

Gabriel stares at me for a long moment. Then he stands, runs a hand through his hair, and I think this is it. This is where he agrees, where he walks away to protect his career and I pretend my heart isn't shattering.

Instead, he locks the door.

"Gabriel, what are you—"

He crosses back to me in two strides, cups my face in both hands, and kisses me.

It's soft and desperate and everything I didn't know I was starving for. His lips taste like coffee and promises, and when I melt against him, he makes a sound low in his throat that unravels me completely.

[heartbeat, sharp intake of breath]

We break apart, breathing hard.

"You," he whispers against my forehead, "are the most important thing in my world."

Before I can process that, before I can argue or pull away or do anything rational, footsteps echo in the hallway outside.

Gabriel steps back just as the door handle rattles.

We stare at each other, my lips still tingling, his hair mussed from my fingers.

The footsteps fade.

But the damage is done. The line is crossed.

And from the look in Gabriel's eyes—determined, reckless, completely done with hiding—there's no going back.

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