Page 21 of Chris

“Hermosa, bring the princesa over for a proper hello to our new friends.”

Valeria heard Jorge’s call to her, but her attention was on someone far more important. Surely, he could wait two minutes. Maria attempted to pull the bow from her dark ponytail, and as much and Valeria sympathized with her daughter’s annoyance, she was still quick to kneel and fix the ribbon. She gave her girl a smile and winked.

“Remember what I said?” she asked.

Maria sighed, her dark gaze darting to the side as two kids came out of the back of the mansion, their squeals chasing them down the steps. Valeria thought they were the children of Jorge’s men—the ones privileged enough to dine with them during business, or otherwise. She couldn’t talk to people on the payroll, unless it was Maria’s nanny, and so she couldn’t say for sure.

“Maria,” Valeria murmured, letting her fingers twist into the ends of her daughter’s soft curls. “What did I say this morning, huh?”

“To be good today. We must look pretty. Be quiet.”

God.

She hated this.

Those weren’t things a child Maria’s age should have to worry about at all. Valeria knew, however, if her child misbehaved that she wouldn’t hear the end from Jorge. He’d given her more than enough warnings leading up to this dinner for the last week about what he expected from her, and Maria.

Sure, she could handle his moods, even if it was the last thing she wanted to do, but it wasn’t fair for her daughter, either. Even if Jorge didn’t shout and smack Maria around, she would still have to watch the asshole do it to her mother.

Valeria tried to avoid that.

“Mamá, can I go play with them?” Maria pointed at the kids running down the grassy pathway leading away from the pool. “Please?”

Frankly, Valeria couldn’t find a reason to tell her daughter no. At least, playing with the kids would keep her out from beneath her father’s feet for a while, or until dinner. It wasn’t like the girl could find trouble when there happened to be a small army of guards all around the damn mansion to look after them.

Jorge had asked for her to bring Maria over, but what did it matter?

“Sure,” Valeria told Maria. “Be kind and don’t get your dress too dirty.”

Maria grinned and swished the skirt of yellow dress like she had when her mother put it on her earlier. “I’ll try.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Val!”

She tensed at Jorge’s shout for her, gave Maria a quick kiss, and stood up when her daughter raced down the steps to chase after the other children. Air filled her lungs in a heavy inhale, the one extra second she needed to be ready to face her husband, and put on that fake smile he seemed to like so much for his guests.

Everything was fake here.

Nothing was true.

Settled enough in her heart that Valeria thought she might pretend to give a fuck about what Jorge wanted, she turned to see her husband still staring expectantly at her—although, with annoyance tugging his lips down at the edges. Great.

It wasn’t Jorge that her attention turned to though. He was a background thought, never leaving and always a reminder for her to behave. Rather, it was the two men standing near Jorge, one ahead of him, and another behind him at the wet bar beside the pool.

A father and a son, maybe?

Valeria thought the older gentleman, and younger—but he had to be close to her age, at least—shared a lot of similar features. Their strong, square-cut jaws, brown, short-cropped hair, dark eyes, and high, defined cheekbones. The slight differences in the shapes of their faces didn’t detract from the fact it was obvious they were family.

What had Jorge told her today?

Business meeting—new partners.

Right.

Valeria was hyperaware of the men’s gazes locked on her as she came down the stairs and walked along the edge of the pool to approach them. She was careful in her heels not to step on any wet spot, lest she slip, and fall into the water. Wouldn’t that be just perfect?

It was the man ahead of Jorge by a step—the younger of the two—that didn’t drop Valeria’s stare as she came closer. He was handsome, strikingly so with his piercing gaze, and rugged features that seemed carved from stone. He didn’t smile, but he also didn’t have to considering his lips naturally curved in such a way they pulled into the hint of a smirk, anyway. His form, fit under a tailored suit, rested confidently in his stance.