Page 3 of The Forbidden Billionaire Attorney

A sigh slips past my lips, heavy with the weight of what-ifs. Finding another firm like Cole & Sterling? It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. A needle that doesn’t judge you for quitting your last job because your boss couldn’t keep his handsto himself.

I might have pushed too far this time, but damn it, if anyone can hold their own against Adrian Cole, it’s Isabella King. Even if he looks incredible in a tailored designer suit and smells annoyingly irresistible.

Chapter two

Adrian

Islam my hand against the desk, a perfect imprint of frustration on the mahogany. Isabella just marched out of here like she owns the place. She has some nerve trying to tell me she was using my father’s tactics back at the meeting this morning. And what was all that about me desperately trying to escape his shadow?

Isabella King is a clueless buffoon. I’m starting to think it was a mistake asking her to join my firm when our last corporate finance lawyer retired.

If she wasn’t always quoting the damn employee handbook, I might actually let myself appreciate the way her white blouse and black trousers fit her. Like they’re tailor-made to trace the lines of her curves, which ... crap, I really shouldn’t be thinking about.

And if I’m being honest, if it wasn’t for her insistence that she knew my father better than me, we just might get along. It’s not like I’ve forgotten how stunning she looked last Christmas—or was it the year before?—all festive and fiery. But now? She’s even more infuriatingly beautiful—if that’s possible—each button of her blouse a taunt, each crease in her trousers a challenge.

I rake a hand through my hair, catching a glimpse of her in my mind again—the way her long brown hair falls over her shoulders, bangs framing her face like some sort of siren’s call. It’s ridiculous. There’s a heat to those thoughts, a dangerous kind of spice that should come with a warning label.

“Off limits,” I mutter to the empty air, shaking my head as if I could dislodge the image of grabbing onto those locks.

The sharp rap on my office door is like a starter pistol, snapping me out of my Isabella-induced daze. I don’t even get the chance to call out before Leo Sterling—partner in crime and actual business—saunters in with that all-too-familiar cocky grin plastered across his face.

“Run into a hurricane on your way here?” he quips, shutting the door behind him. His eyes are dancing with curiosity, not missing a beat.

“Something like that,” I reply, leaning back in my chair and trying to regain composure. “Isabella just has a unique way of turning discussions into ... well, tornadoes.”

“Ah, the meeting this morning?” He chuckles, taking Isabella’s recently vacated seat, which still seems to hold the electric charge of our confrontation. He leans forward, elbows on thighs, looking far too amused for someone who didn’t have to endure the whirlwind himself.

“Let’s just say the rookie has a knack for pushing buttons she shouldn’t even know exist,” I grumble, my attempt at nonchalance probably failing miserably.

“Give her time,” Leo advises with an easy shrug. “She’ll adapt. Or combust. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.” He flashes a grin that tells me he’s only half-joking.

But before I can decide whether to laugh or launch into a rant, he shifts gears.

“Speaking of entertainment,” he says, his smirk widening, “Aurora Tech rang. They want us for the merger with NexGen Industries.”

I sit up straighter, any irritation from earlier dissipating like mist in sunlight. This is the kind of news that could turn a bad day into a champagne-worthy one.

“Seriously?” I ask, the prospect already igniting a familiar thrill in my veins. “That’s huge. We nail this, and we’re golden.”

“Golden, platinum, diamond—pick your precious metal, Adrian. If all goes well, we’re on the Forbes cover by next quarter,” Leo says, the excitement in his voice mirroring my own.

“Damn right we will be,” I say, already mentally rolling up my sleeves. This is the game I live for—the cutthroat, high-stakes dance of corporate mergers. And I intend to lead.

“Your father would be proud.”

I glance down at my desk and nod. “I know.”

Admittedly, I was shocked when Dad left the firm to me in his will. I was almost certain he would leave it all to Leo, who’s been his partner for almost twenty years. Isabella is right about one thing—I wasn’t a good son to Thomas Cole. I was rebellious and cold. I even married Colette against his warnings that she was trouble. And boy, was he right.

I’ve spent the past three years since his death trying to make up for it all and managed to turn his multi-million-dollar firm into a billion dollar one in the process. But this merger? The big leagues.

I clap my hands together, the sound echoing off the glass walls of my office. The thrill of a new challenge is electric in my veins. “Leo, this one’s mine,” I declare with a grin that feels like it could split my face in two.

“Adrian, you sure? I can handle the initial correspondence if—” Leo starts, but Iwave him off.

“Appreciate it, but no thanks. You know how I am with contracts—I want to be in the trenches.” My fingers tap an eager rhythm on the mahogany desk. Meticulous, precise—that’s how I work best when it comes to the delicate dance of mergers and acquisitions.

He sighs, resigned. “Alright, man. Your show.”

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