Page 171 of Most Eligible Billionaire CEO

“Honey, let Daddy help you. That looks heavy,” Mom says.

“I can handle it, Mom!”

“Chica, cálmate!”

Maybe my tone was a little harsh. “Sorry.”

“You’re jumpy today,” Ciara says. “And quite territorial, since you don’t want anyone to help you in the kitchen.” My sister offers her unsolicited opinion.

I glare at her.

She flashes me her perfect straight, white teeth.

The playlist of sultry female singers playing in the background should help calm my nerves, but it doesn’t.

Shy of medication, nothing can calm me down.

“It’s a Herrera reunion after weeks of us being apart, I want everything to be perfect,” I say before turning my focus on my sister. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting my family to enjoy the evening and not lift a finger.”

She snorts.

Whatever.

“It’s a lovely thought,” Mom says, “But we could’ve waited for Sunday dinner.”

No, this couldn’t wait. “Sunday dinner is Sunday dinner, Mom. This is different.”

She makes a face.

And you wonder why Ciara and I tease you.

Mom looks like Michelle Rodriguez without the badass fight moves. Man, she masters the actress’s facial expressions.

I drop the dessert on the dining room table.

“I ate so much trifle while I was in London,” Mom says, “But nothing compares to the dulce frío. It’s unique.”

Dad had a prior engagement yesterday, so he couldn’t make it for dinner. I tried to place an order at Daliana’s Bakery’s yesterday for a Bizcocho Dominicano, aka Dominican cake, but they require forty-eight-hour notice. I rolled up my sleeves and prepared a dessert I was unlikely to fuck up.

“As unique as the people where the dessert originated from,” Dad says.

“Not that again,” Ciara rolls her eyes. “We know, we know.” She lifts a hand. “Sofia and I are lucky to be half Dominican.”

Mom’s dark brown eyes clash with Dad’s dark brown ones. They exchange a look.

My father’s expression turns… somber? Sad? Tormented? Anguished?

I can’t read him.

Mom’s face is the same coloring as boiled lobster.

My sister’s light brown eyes ping pong between our parents. “What did I say?”

Yeah, what did she say to put that expression on our faces?

Mom reaches for her hand and squeezes it.

Ciara’s supreme confidence cracks.

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