Page 2 of Naked Truth

Chapter Two

Raoul

“You insult me,”Señor Hernandez mutters and practically tosses the pottery aside, looking bored. If it weren’t for the quick reflexes of the younger man standing to his right, the vase would have died an untimely death as so many of its lookalikes before. Miguel—I believe his name is—saves the gift before it shatters when it would have collided with the marble floor.

It’s the same routine every year on his birthday. Dom Hernandez collects vases and receives many of them as presents, famously tossing aside those he deems unworthy. Some exquisite, some plain, some nothing more than raw clay. He keeps very few, none of which what I’d consider worthy of a collection. No one can predict the ones he keeps, and those in his employment have tried. We have a running pool on which he’ll keep, in fact. So far, not one of us have been able to collect. From the looks of it, my little bird’s plain vase won’t be making it into his collection, either.

“You have the thanks of the Hernandez family, and the thanks of Señor Hernandez himself. Next!” Miguel speaks above the murmurs of the crowd. The gift bearer turns and moves away, not looking too unhappy. That vase allowed him access to Dom Hernandez’s birthday party; he got what he came for.

I step forward, the sweet pequeña ave by my side. She, too, has an ulterior motive for attending tonight’s celebration, I’m sure of it—though I doubt it’s simply to enjoy Señor Hernandez’s food and drink. Until I know her reason for crashing the party, however, I won’t leave her side. If we’d met under different circumstances, I would already have her on a bed, naked and spread. I smelled her want for me outside when I leaned in, purposely searching for that musky scent. What hit me was a perfume sweeter than anything on the market. It was something only her body could create, something I want to believe was made for me and only me. Why I have this sudden and overwhelming urge to bury myself between her legs can’t be explained—but it also can’t be denied.

I return my focus to why I’m working tonight. I’ve always stood by the side of Dom Hernandez, never to his front, never as one of his guests. I’m his most loyal enforcer. He knows this. I know this. Most in this large room know this. So, when he spots me next to yet another attendee attempting to earn a favor from one of the most powerful men this side of the Rio Grande, he draws a breath to question it. I lift my eyebrows in response. Reading me as well as he reads a room—one of the many reasons he’s the head of the Mexican branch of the Alliance and proudly holds a seat at the table with the heads of the other families—Hernandez gives a single, curt nod and redirects his attention to the woman next to me.

“Come,” I say and present her to my employer before bowing and stepping back. She eyes me and nods. I nod in return, then casually move to my rightful place next to Hernandez. “This is Valentina Henry. She wishes to present you with a gift.”

He narrows his dark eyes, studying the woman. “You look just like my Camila when we were first married.”

Valentina smiles shyly and I’m immediately taken by her beauty, despite myself. What a magnificent smile. It’s warm, inviting, and has my body reacting in wildly inappropriate ways, given that I’m standing in front of a crowd.

“Do I…” Hernandez sits forward and leans toward her. “I must know you.”

“I…” she jumps her attention to me once again, eyes rounding as her breathing grows shallow. I don’t like her sudden change in body language and step into her personal space, reaching for her elbow before she dizzies from breathing too quickly.

“Are you not well, little bird?” I don’t like how much color she’s lost and am ready to lift her into my arms to walk her back out of the room. My protective nature is heightened every second I spend with this woman, and I can’t begin to explain why.

“I…”

“I’ve got you, Valentina.” I rest my hands on her arms. “There’s no need to be afraid. Señor Hernandez is ready for you to present your gift.”

“Who is this woman?” Dom Hernandez demands. It’s his tone that draws my focus. He’s one of the most centered men I know, never raising his voice, never a quaver in his delivery. Yet now his words are edgy, his voice louder than normal, his tone sharp, almost desperate for my answer.

“Valentina Henry,” I repeat, and once more present her to him.

“Ah…no. It is Valentina Hernandez,” she corrects softly, and I still, blinking at her as a million reactions race through my mind. No. No! Please, she cannot be yet another con artist attempting to fake her way into my employer’s good graces by posing as his long-lost granddaughter. He’s had his heart broken so many times before. I can’t allow it to happen again. I won’t.

“My apologies, Señor Hernandez,” I respond quickly and grab Valentina by the shoulders to remove her from the stage. “I had no idea she was planning this. I will remove her.”

She fights me as I expected she would, so I brace myself to throw her over my shoulder if necessary to get her away from Hernandez before he—

“Stop!” the older man barks, and I halt immediately. “Bring her to me, Raoul.”

“Sir.” I waste no time carrying out my orders although I’d rather drag her out by her hair and demand she explain herself. It’s disappointing to learn she’s yet another liar in the long, long line of deceivers who have come to the Hernandez estate in the hopes of fooling the man into believing their false words. As much as I want to demand answers from Valentina Henry—no matter what she calls herself—I step aside and allow her to address my employer.

“What did you say your name was?” he demands, studying Valentina with extreme interest.

“Valentina Henry is the name I grew up with, but I truly believe my given name is Valentina Hernandez.” She quickly offers the mini-vase. Miguel takes it from her, inspects it, then hands it to Hernandez. “My tía asked that I give that to you. She said you helped her once, when she was younger.”

“Maria…” he whispers, his voice an echo as he’s suddenly lost in his own thoughts. Accepting the gift, he uses his finger to trace the subtle design. The colors are muted, much as are the colors Valentina is wearing. She doesn’t need more. Her beauty is blinding enough. I force my attention away before she catches me staring. It does nothing to help the throbbing as my cock continues to swell. Thank god I’m wearing black.

“Yes, Maria Vantoro.” Valentina nods quickly, hopefully. “You know of her work?”

“Sí. Maria was an artist I knew long ago. But how did your aunt come by this?” He holds up the small vase.

“Maria Vantoro was my tía,” she explains. “She also gave me this.” When she reaches inside the purse slung across her body, I move in and place my hand on her wrist. She freezes and stares into my eyes.

“You will not move until I remove what’s in your purse, little bird. Is that understood?”

She nods quickly. “Y-yes. It’s just an envelope—”

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