Page 35 of The Forbidden Billionaire Attorney

Once the table is set and dinner is served, I slide the last fork into place with more force than necessary, my eyes darting between Adrian and my parents as they chatter away.

Dad’s booming laugh fills the dining room as he slaps Adrian on the back, praising him for our mergerthat's now making headlines. “I can’t believe the firm landed such huge clients. Thomas would have been so proud.”

I can’t help but notice how Adrian’s shoulders square with pride under my father’s affirmation.

“Really, son,” Dad says, the word “son” lingering in the air like an unspoken wish, “you remind me so much of your father these days. It’s uncanny.”

“Thank you, Mr. King.” Adrian’s voice is smooth like aged whiskey, and I have to admit, even if reluctantly, he does possess some of my late mentor’s charm.

Mom is next with the line of questioning. “Caleb is doing well?”

Adrian nods. “He’s amazing. Growing bigger every day. I can hardly believe it.”

Dad takes a bite of meatloaf, a smile on his face. “They grow up fast, trust me. You should bring him sometime. We miss having a kid in the house.”

Adrian and I lock eyes. I suppose they won’t have to miss it for much longer.

“Will do, Mr. King.”

Mom tilts her head, a gleam of mischief in her eyes, and drops the bomb. “So, dear, are you seeing anyone special these days?”

The question hangs there, thick and syrupy. Adrian pauses, a perfectly timed moment before answering, “Yes, I am actually.”

He wipes his mouth with a napkin, his gaze catching mine across the table, a silent message in the arch of his brow. My stomach flips—whether from irritation or something else, I’m not going to analyze right now.

“That’s wonderful! Tell us about her,” Mom presses on, sipping her wine. “Isabella is so busy these days, she never dates. I’m surprised you managed to find the time to meet someone special.”

With a considering tilt of his head, Adrian describes this “mystery woman.” “She’s beautiful, intelligent, definitely feisty...” His eyes flicker to me again. “...but she has this soft side that seems reserved just for me.”

“Feisty, huh?” Mom mulls it over. “Sounds difficult.”

“Difficult? Since when is speaking your mind such a negative trait?” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes so hard I’m pretty sure I see my own brain.

Adrian laughs, that deep, resonant sound that usually annoys me but now feels oddly endearing in this domestic tableau. And despite myself, despite every logical argument against it, there’s this tiny, traitorous part of me smiling inside. Because Adrian being here, amidst the familiar chaos of a family dinner, is like finding a piece of a puzzle you didn’t even know was missing.

“Difficult women are the most interesting ones, aren’t they?” he adds, winking at me conspiratorially.

“Only to those who enjoy a challenge,” I shoot back, but my retort lacks its usual bite.

“I love a challenge.” He grins, and the look we share is one of reluctant allies rather than sparring partners.

And damn it, it does feel right, him being here. It feels like maybe, just maybe, our constant clashing could be the prelude to something other than discord. But that’s a thought for another time, though.

A half an hour later, our plates are cleaned up and our stomachs are full.

“Good call on taking those cooking classes, Mom.” I take the final sip of my water. “Your skills are next level.”

Flattery radiates off Mom’s face, but she brushes off my comment. “Honey, I’ve always been this good.”

I huff, then start to get up. “Guess I’ll clear the table, per usual.”

“Should I brew some ginger tea?” Mom asks.

Dad shrugs. “Maybe for the kids. But we aren’t driving. Why don’t you and I just keep drinking?”

Mom shimmies her shoulders like it’s the best idea she’s heard all evening. “Wine it is.”

Once I’ve gathered all the plates, I cross over to the kitchen. Before I can even place the dishes in the sink, Adrian’s there, gesturing for me to hand it all over.

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