Page 6 of The Forbidden Billionaire Attorney

“She is the foolthen.” Mom shakes her head, her eyes softening. “You’re doing great, Adrian. And if you ever need a break, remember this bored retiree is more than happy to step in.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I manage a chuckle, feeling a weight lift, even if just a little. “You might regret that offer when you realize how often I’ll take you up on it.”

“Try me.”

“Alright. I’m going to game with Caleb for a bit before I head back to work.”

With a grin, I turn to follow Caleb’s path, ready to lose myself in a world of fantasy battles and quests. It’s easier there—no heartbreaks, no custody battles—just me and my boy taking on dragons.

Chapter three

Isabella

Ipush the last bite of my well-dressed salad around the plate, eyeing it like it’s a legal brief I can’t figure out how to close. Amelie is sipping her wine with that air of French nonchalance she wears better than her Hermes scarf.

“So,” she prods, circling back to the conversation we’ve been nibbling at all evening, “let’s get back to why on earth Adrian Cole would hire you if you two mix like oil and water?”

“Masochism?” I offer, dumping my fork alongside the wilted greens. “Or maybe because his dad would’ve snapped me up in a heartbeat, had I not been a year into law school when he passed?” I shrug, battling the unease that tickles my spine whenever I think about the job offer that came out of nowhere.

“Adrian’s partner Leo emailed me out of the blue,” I continue, swirling the dregs of my Chardonnay in its glass. “Just a few days after I quit my first job. It was serendipitous.Tooserendipitous.”

“Or,” Amelie counters, her brow arched in that way that says she’s about to lay down some truth, “he knows you’re brilliant. Even a place like Cole & Sterling doesn’t hand out jobs to just anyone—friend ofthe family or not.” She pauses, a smirk playing on her lips. “Though, from what you’ve said, Adrian does sound like an insufferable jerk.”

“Insufferable is putting it mildly,” I scoff, grateful for her support but not ready to let Adrian off the hook that easily.

We laugh, sounding like a couple of hyenas cackling, over the absurdity of my professional life, and decide to call it a night. Bistro Laurent’s ambiance fades as we step into the brisk evening air, heels clicking on the pavement like a time bomb counting down to tomorrow’s dread.

“Speak of the devil,” I murmur as we round the corner, because there he is—Adrian Cole, in all his tailored suit glory. Except now that evening has rolled around, he’s now donning a black coat and red scarf. He’s standing outside the restaurant, looking infuriatingly handsome with his laptop bag slung over one shoulder and a phone pressed to his ear.

“Is that him?” Amelie’s eyes widen just as Adrian turns around.

Call me crazy, but I think I might spot the faintest hint of a smile when his eyes fall on me.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. I try to focus on how much I loathe him, using it as a shield against the fact that, without the confines of the office walls, he actually looks ... no, I refuse to go there.

“Let’s get out of here before I’m tempted to commit a crime,” I whisper to Amelie, half-joking, half-serious. The less I have to deal with Adrian Cole outside of billable hours, the better.

“Evening, ladies,” he says, ending his call and slipping the phone into his pocket. I force myself to ignore the dimple that dares to make an appearance when he smirks—it’s probably patented anyway.

I nod curtly. “Mr. Cole.”

“We’re outside of work. You can just call me Adrian.” His eyes flick to Amelie. “Is this your friend?”

“Oh, right. Amelie, this is Adrian, my new boss. Adrian, this is Amelie, my best friend.”

Adrian extends his hand for Amelie to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Amelie replies, but there’s a hint of sarcasm in her tone that, as her best friend, is difficult to ignore. “So, Isabella. Did you still want to get drinks?”

“Honestly, I’m so beat. I could sleep on a bed of nails.” I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand. The last thing I need is alcohol blurring the edges of my already frayed nerves.

“Suit yourself. It’s not like you have a big day tomorrow or anything—” Before Amelie can finish, Adrian chimes in, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips.

“Actually, she does. The Henderson case, remember? Or do you not check your messages after work?” His tone is casual, but there’s an undercurrent of ... something. I squint at him, suspicion pricking my skin.

I dig through my purse, pulling out my phone. Sure enough, there’s a message from Adrian, timestamped an hour ago, announcing he’s passing the Henderson case to me. “You’re giving this to me?” My voice is a mix of disbelief and quiet gratitude.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says, as if he’s doing me a favor.

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