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drink and poured another one.
    “You should eat something,” she said.
    His quelling glance didn’t scare her. And in the end, he set the refilled glass down and walked away from it. “How old is your son?”
    Faith’s stomach flipped. She didn’t want to lie to him. As it was, it was killing her to keep Michael away from his father, but she knew what would happen if Miguel knew. He would take over, force her to go with him to keep her son. But the life she was giving Michael now was the best for him. Later, when he was older, she expected to lose her son to his father just as she’d lost Miguel. He would want to emulate his father and grandfather, follow in their footsteps. He would go to Princeton on the trust Mrs. Santos had created for him and he would eventually live in New York and join his father’s world, she was certain of it. But first she wanted to give him a loving, stable home. She wanted him to learn the value of hard work, and to know what it felt like to covet something and not be able to afford it.
    She exhaled softly, steeling her resolve. “He’s still a boy,” she hedged. “Thank God. I’m not ready to parent a teenager.”
    “His name?”
    “Michael.”
    Miguel’s arms crossed. “Is Michael’s father active in his life? Is he active in yours?”
    “No. We went our separate ways some time ago.”
    “Then I don’t see a problem.” His eyes were dark and brilliant as he stared at her. “He’s your son, Faith. I’ll take you both.”
     
    * * * * *
     

CHAPTER 4
     
    Faith was glad to be sitting because her knees went weak. “My god...”
    Approaching the table, Miguel sat and dug into the food she’d plated for him. His gaze was determined and challenging. So like him. Romance was in his blood. At heart, he believed love conquered all.
    She was breathless with the need to cry. He was a warrior prince, set upon a quest to save his fair princess from a life of toil. He wanted to spirit her away to his tower, where he would drape her in jewels and see that her every whim was met.
    If only she wanted to be rescued.
    Miguel wiped his mouth with a napkin, then drank from one of the bottles of water that had been artfully arranged in the center of the table. Pushing away from her place setting, Faith stood and went to him. He slid his chair back, making room for her.
    Lifting her skirt, she straddled him, cupping his face in her hands and trusting him to support her back with his tender grip. Her fingers brushed his hair from his forehead. His eyes closed as if her touch soothed him, but she knew it invariably caused him pain.
    “You’re so angry,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his brow, dying inside because she wished she could always be there to comfort him. She wanted that so much, she couldn’t help but doubt her refusal to try... To take the risk...
    “I was,” he agreed, pulling her closer. “For a moment, I regretted ever meeting you. It pissed me off to think that way. The years we were together were the happiest of my life. I would never change them.”
    “And I’ve been so scared that you would regret it. That there was no way to avoid us falling apart.”
    His fingers kneaded into her hips. “I thought you grew out of being insecure about us.”
    “I did. The comment about the supermodel... it wasn’t to say I was forgettable, just that first loves fade for most people.” She wrinkled her nose at his arched brow. “Well, they do. But really, I wasn’t worried about you being the problem. I was worried about me. I was worried that I’d screw it all up by being miserable.”
    Miguel’s head tilted to the side, his gaze narrowing. “As if I would ever allow you to be.”
    She smiled at his arrogant assumption that nothing could go wrong if he said it couldn’t. Placing her hand over his heart, she felt its strong and steady beat against her palm. A heart that beat for her alone, just as hers had been in his keeping for more than half her life. “Do you