Page 22 of The Forbidden Billionaire Attorney

“Maybe it’s only me, but when we’re together … it just works. And the sex. It’s—” I shake my head, unable to even describe how incredible the sex is. “I don’t think the English language even has a word for how good you make me feel.”

“If we’re going to do this, don’t you think we need to set some boundaries?” She’s folding her arms now, lawyer-mode in full swing.

“Fort Knox levels of boundaries,” I assure her. We both know we’re treading on a minefield, yet neither of us seems willing to step away.

“Fine. But the moment it gets complicated, we end it. Agreed?” The firmness in her voice doesn’t match the curiosity dancing in those emerald depths.

“Agreed.” It’s a pact made on a foundation of mutual self-delusion, but hell, it’s a pact nonetheless.

We finish our meal in quiet harmony, the unspoken agreement hanging in the air like a dare. As I clear the plates, I’m drawn to her by some magnetic force I can’t deny. I press my lips to hers, a soft claim that tastes like promise and warning all at once.

She responds with a heat that ignites a fire within me, and our kiss deepens, fueled by a passion I didn’t know we’d been stoking. Her fingers thread through my hair, pulling me closer, and I’m lost in the sensation of her, the very essence ofIsabella King.

We pull apart, breathless, our gazes locked in silent conversation. Words are unnecessary; the electricity between us speaks volumes. And as our lips meet again, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re diving headfirst into uncharted territory—with no map, no plan, and absolutely no idea what we’re getting ourselves into.

Chapter nine

Isabella

Istride into the office lobby on Monday, my stomach performing circus tricks. The memory of Saturday night with Adrian lingers like a too-sweet perfume; it’s intoxicating but leaves a cloying aftertaste of what-ifs and whys.

The battle in my head rages on—to tell or not to tell him about the baby. When he suggested keeping it light, I read between the lines: family life isn’t on his menu. And despite my plans for a child-free climb up the career ladder, the thought of ending the pregnancy feels like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole—it just doesn’t sit right.

“Isabella, can you come to my office?” Adrian’s voice breaks through the intercom, pulling me from my internal tug-of-war.

“Sure,” I reply, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the nervous tremble I feel.

I make my way to his door, rehearsing neutral expressions in my mind. But the moment I enter, his smirk unravels all my prep work. It’s infuriating how that one facial twitch can send my pulse into overdrive.

“Close the door, will you?” he says with that commanding edge that somehow also suggests he’d be just as comfortable leaning back with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

As soon as the click of the latch sounds, Adrian crosses the room in two strides, and his lips find mine with an ease that screams he’s done this a thousand times—though, I’d wager, never quite like this. His kiss is a mix of power and tenderness, a contradiction that epitomizes the man before me.

His hands roam, tracing the curves he’s familiar with, and I can’t help the moan that slips out. It’s involuntary, a testament to his skill, and absolutely mortifying.

“Adrian,” I gasp, shoving at his chest. “What are you doing?”

“Reminding you of Saturday,” he murmurs, that damn smile still playing on his lips while he effectively pins me against the door with his body.

“Is this why you called me in?” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m a tornado of conflicting emotions.

Adrian laughs, the sound rich and somehow reassuring. “Actually, no.” He straightens his tie with a quick flick of his wrist. “I need you to join me for a meeting with Aurora and NexGen. It’s about the merger.”

I blink, processing the request. Kate informed me Leo is supposed to be his go-to for these things, but Adrian’s eyes are earnest. “You want me there?”

“Your financial expertise,” he says, brushing his hand along my stomach then down to my hips in a way that’s both distracting and strangely comforting, “is exactly what we need for this discussion. And between us, I think you’ll really impress them.”

The compliment hits me like a shot of espresso—unexpected, potent, and leaving a warm glow in its wake. Pride swells within me, and for a moment, I forget about the secret pressing against my conscience.

“Thanks,” I manage, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a smile tugging at my lips, betraying my pleasure. “My only concern is how unprepared I am.”

“Already had Kate create a PowerPoint for you.”

I raise my brows. Now I’m the one who’s impressed. “Well then, I suppose I have no more objections.”

“Then it’s settled.” He leans in, and his lips capture mine again, a soft demand that sends my heart racing.

“Adrian,” I murmur against his mouth, even as part of me wants to sink into the kiss. “We should go. Now.”

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