Victoria’s hand slammed down on her linen napkin.

Her soft, honeyed tone vanished, replaced by a voice as flat and sharp as a razor blade.

“Arthur, close that folder this instant,” Victoria snapped.

“You’re embarrassing our dinner guests with paperwork nonsense that was settled years ago.”

“It wasn’t settled, Victoria,” Vance said softly.

“You just refused to sign for the certified mail.”

Brandon dropped his silver fork on his china plate with a loud clatter.

“We have a four-million-dollar commercial bailout line riding on tonight’s agreement, Arthur.