Page 18 of Naked Truth
Chapter Eleven
Valentina
From what has already becomemy favorite perch on the veranda, I’m watching butterflies leap from flower to flower when one of Dom Hernandez’s house staff steps out of the cool house. I glance up to see her looking around worriedly.
“Señor Santiago?” she asks in a thick accent.
“He’s not here,” I respond in Spanish. “He and Señor Hernandez are meeting…somewhere.” I haven’t seen Raoul all morning, actually, though he warned me that today might be the day the DNA tests come back. He seemed supremely unconcerned about them, though, and kept reminding me that my grandfather claimed me by a right higher than even blood, but I don’t understand what that means. I’m just happy that one way or another, all doubts about my bloodline will soon be dispelled.
The woman opposite me shifts nervously, and I realize she’s holding a cell phone in one hand, her expression now visibly distressed.
“Is there anything you need?” I ask. “Anything I can help you with? I can call Raoul.”
“It is the lawyers on the phone,” she says abruptly. “They are insisting to speak with Señor Hernandez or to his granddaughter right this minute. I don’t know what to do.”
My eyes fly wide at her words and I practically leap from my chair, crossing the veranda to stand in front of her. “They said that?” I whisper quietly. “The lawyers referred to me as granddaughter?”
She looks at me oddly, but nods. “Si, Señorita Valentina, they said it exactly like that.”
A giant knot of worry unravels in my stomach, leaving me almost woozy. So it’s true! It must be true. I am incontrovertibly Señor Hernandez’s granddaughter, and the lawyers are calling me to formalize it. I reach for the phone, and the young woman gladly hands it over to me.
“You have a way of calling Señor Hernandez?” I ask, making sure the device is still on mute.
“Me?” She looks panicked again, and raises her hands. Apparently, my grandfather doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s in meetings. “No, no.”
“Then not you, but find someone who does know how to reach him, and let him know that the lawyers have called,” I instruct her in rapid Spanish. “I’ll take care of this.”
“Thank you, señorita.” She nods quickly and turns on her heel, dashing away as I unmute the phone and put it to my ear.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting—”
“Am I speaking to Louisa Hernandez?” The voice is older, even kind, and I feel another burst of emotion swell through me.
“Well, I go by Valentina,” I hedge, and he chuckles.
“My name is Robert Lopez, and I represent the extended members of the Hernandez family, Valentina. A family we are very happy to understand you are becoming an official part of. You are at the main house?”
“Yes,” I’m suddenly worried he’s going to ask me to leave it. Raoul was very strict on that point, though. I’m to go nowhere without him.
But the lawyer once more puts me at my ease. “Good. We have several representatives of our law firm already on their way to you. They may be there now. They’ll have some documentation for you to sign.”
“Señor Hernandez isn’t currently here.” I’ve begun walking toward the front of the house, however, and as I pass a window, I see a line of three limos in the drive. Three! How much paperwork must there be?
“That’s no trouble at all. It’s your signature that’s most important, at this juncture. For the good of the family. We don’t have much time to lose.”
I frown. “We don’t?”
But our connection breaks up as I reach the front hallway, and I’m immediately distracted by the half-dozen men walking into the sitting room. Some of them are carrying briefcases, some aren’t. When I shift in the hallway, suddenly wishing I had time to call Señor Hernandez myself, one of them notices me.
His broad smile makes me feel a little better, and he strides forward, hand outstretched. “Ms. Hernandez, on behalf of our entire law firm, welcome to the Hernandez family.” He shakes my hand warmly, drawling in a deep Texas accent. “We won’t keep you long.”
Still uneasy, I step into the sitting room, where the other lawyers have been busy. There are several short piles of paperwork on the wide coffee table, and a half dozen pens lined up beside them. Did they think they would run out of that much ink?
I take a seat nervously on the couch, and the head lawyer, the one who shook my hand, starts talking. “Today we begin the process of ensuring the safety of the family, Ms. Hernandez. You can understand why that’s important?”
Darting a glance from him back to the stacks of paper, I frown. “What do you mean, safety?”
“Meaning that provisions were set in place long ago addressing the return of Señor Hernandez’s granddaughter, provisions that must be honored now. Your signature will indicate that you understand and accept those provisions, and is necessary before we can officially allow you to use the Hernandez name.”