The murmur of voices in the dining room died down like someone had hit a mute button. Roberto Connolly strode in, all confidence and swagger, but inside he felt like a box of fireworks ready to explode. The fancy-ass chandelier above cast everything in a golden glow, making the whole scene look like some oil painting of rich folks living it up.
As he headed for his spot at the long table—polished to within an inch of its life—Roberto caught a whiff of something mouthwatering. Probably some overpriced grub that'd taste like cardboard, given the tension in the room.
His eyes locked onto Kylie, and for a split second, he saw something soft in her gaze. It was gone faster than a snowball in hell, replaced by a look that could've frozen vodka.
"We'll be talking later," Roberto said, trying t
