Page 43 of The Forbidden Billionaire Attorney

“Yep. Thinks you’re some kind of superhero.” I chuckle, but it’s true. Caleb has taken a shine to her, and I can’t blame him.

Isabella’s face softens, a smile spreading across her features. It’s moments like these when I catch glimpses of the person beneath the no-nonsense lawyer. “I’m flattered,” she says. “He’s a great kid. Maybe we can arrange something.”

My chest tightens at the sincerity in her words. They bounce around the car, too significant to ignore. “How about we pick him up from school together? Maybe grab an early dinner?”

“Sure,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. It’s a simple yes, but it feels like a win.

As we inch forward in traffic, I find myself fantasizing about dinner—Caleb’s laughter mingling with Isabella’s, the easy conversation, the way they might look sitting together. It’s a dangerous path for my mind to wander down because it leads to places that I’ve told myself are off-limits.

But screw it—I’m secretly thrilled she agreed. Not just because it means more time with her, but because I’m curious to see how Caleb views her outside of his persistent inquiries. Does he see what I see in her fiery determination and hidden compassion?

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, masking my eagerness with casual indifference. Inside, though, I’m all drumming fingers and restless energy, like a kid before Christmas. Only this gift isn’t wrapped in shiny paper—it’s the possibility of a future that looks nothing like I had planned but everything I might want.

***

The clatter of silverware and the hum of conversation create a lively backdrop as we settle at our table at The Belvedere. Since we picked him up, Caleb’s been animatedly telling us about his schoolyard soccer match. It has Isabella laughing, her green eyes crinkling at the corners in genuine amusement. It’s infectious, that laugh, and I find myself grinning like an idiot.

“Then, Miss Simmons said I could be captain next time if I keep up the good work!” Caleb exclaims, puffing out his chest with pride.

“Looks like we’ve got a natural leader on our hands,” I say, winking at Isabella.

She nods, her smile lingering on Caleb just as the waiter arrives to take our order.

With menus tucked neatly under his arm, the waiter turns to us. “Good evening,” he says, smiling as he hands out the menus. “May I get you started with any drinks or are you ready to order?”

I glance at Isabella and catch the slight smile on her face. “I already know what I want,” I tell the waiter, leaning backin my chair.

“Me too,” Isabella chimes in, her voice steady, though I can see her eyeing the appetizers list briefly.

Caleb perks up beside me, already bouncing with excitement. “Can I get the gnocchi? It’s my favorite!” He beams up at the waiter.

I smirk, nodding. “He’s a regular here, so yeah, he’ll take the ricotta gnocchi.”

The waiter nods, jotting it down, and then turns to me. “And for you, sir?”

“Dry-aged ribeye, medium rare,” I say, almost before he can finish asking. I glance at Isabella, raising an eyebrow. “Let me guess—something light and dainty?”

She rolls her eyes, not taking the bait. “I’ll have the wild mushroom risotto, please. Since you’re paying, right?”

“Good choice,” the waiter says with a smile before walking off.

I chuckle as I turn back to her. “Risotto? Really branching out there, aren’t you? I recall you always preferred lots of protein and low carbs.”

She shrugs, unfazed. “Things change. Not all of us need steak to survive.”

Caleb giggles, and I just shake my head, smiling despite myself. She knows how to keep me on my toes.

The food arrives in about ten minutes, and the waiter sets each plate down with a flourish. The aroma of my ribeye is mouthwatering, and Caleb’s eyes light up as his gnocchi is placed in front of him. Isabella smiles politely at the waiter as her dish is set before her.

We start eating, the conversation flowing naturally—light, easy. Caleb happily digs into his gnocchi, telling us about a new game he’s been playing at recess. Isabella listens, laughing delicately at his enthusiasm, and I catch myself watching her more than I’m paying attention to the story.

“This steak’s perfect,” I say between bites, looking over at Isabella. “How’s the risotto?”

She gives me a quick smile, taking a bite. “Delicious. You should try something other than meat next time. You might surprise yourself.”

I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “Me? Go without meat? I’ll leave the experimenting to you.”

Caleb giggles, his plate half-finished. He’s in high spirits tonight, enjoying the back-and-forth between us, when suddenly, out of nowhere, he drops a bomb neither of us sees coming

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