Текст книги "All Revved Up"

Автор книги: Sylvia Day

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 3 страниц)

A mist of sweat bloomed on her skin, the orgasm searing across her nerve endings and blackening her vision. Held rigid in the grip of mind-blowing pleasure, Faith cried out his name in a hoarse broken voice, her pussy milking him in tiny convulsions until he fell across her in a gasping blanket of hot beloved male.

Rubbing his sweat-slick forehead against the comforter, Miguel thrust his fingers into Faith’s long hair and groaned as her plush, wet pussy clenched in aftershocks around his spurting cock. The ecstasy sizzling down his spine kept him coming, his balls aching as he emptied them deep inside her.

“Oh god,” she breathed against his ear. “I can’t bear it.”

His teeth ground together until his jaw cramped. Without volition, his hips rocked into her, his body mindlessly seeking a way to crawl inside her. To possess her. The sex wasn’t at all the way he remembered it. He used to be able to get out of bed afterward and walk to the bathroom to dispose of the condom…

Ay Dios mio… Nuzzling his temple against hers, Miguel waited for the panic to strike and felt only a vicious primitive satisfaction. His cock was bathed in his cum and Faith’s. For the first time in his life he was balls-deep and bareback in a woman, and it was the one woman in the world he could ever imagine having children with. The girl who’d stolen his heart and never given it back. She took family seriously. If he knocked her up, she’d find a way to make it work between them. He could have her and the life he wanted. Ruthless, yes, but then he always was when he wanted something.

Whether she loved him or not… Well, love was a complication they’d be better off without. He could live with just this—her hot and luscious body in his bed, taking everything he could give her with unrestrained abandon. It was too easy to picture her in his penthouse in Manhattan, spread out on his gray silk sheets, sobbing his name as he fucked her with the nightscape of the city displayed thru the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the bed.

“Umm… Miguel.” Her hands slid over his damp back, her lips pressed against the sensitive spot just in front of his ear. “I did miss you.”

He caught one of her hands, then the other, dragging them over her head. With his knee, he nudged her leg over, widening the cradle of her thighs. He lifted his head and looked down at her, his aspirations for the result of this visit altering by the moment. His tongue traced the curve of his lower lip, his gaze sweeping over her face, taking in the dazed pleasure in her eyes and the cat-like smile of contentment. He rolled his hips just to feel how soaked she was.

She inhaled sharply. “You’re still hard.”

“Are you surprised, mi querida? I’ve missed you, too.”

He felt the sole of her shoe rub up and down his calf. A gruff sound of pleasure escaped him.

Looking up at him with the blue eyes that haunted him, she gave him a taunting smile and wriggled suggestively. “Take me, then, mi tesoro. I’m yours.”

No, you’re not, he thought as he withdrew slowly, only to thrust home hard and fast. Not yet. But you will be.

CHAPTER 3

Watching Faith shift gears in her classic Corvette was so arousing, Miguel’s dick stirred with appreciation even though he was presently wrung dry. That was why they’d left the bungalow, why they were driving to a sports bar with a late-night kitchen.

She made him feel like a teenager again, hopeful and vigorous. He’d had her in bed twice, then again in the shower. When she sat on the couch in a plush terrycloth robe with her hair hanging in wet tangles around her shoulders, he’d wanted her again. The domesticity that he avoided with other women had been an aphrodisiac with Faith. He’d sat on the couch beside her and pulled her over him, his head falling back into the cushions as she slid her slick, hot cunt onto him. They’d gone easy on each other the last time, neither of them in a rush. He could tell she was getting sore and guessed she’d been without a steady partner in a while.

Yet she’d come willingly to him when he asked.

The pleasure he could give her was a vulnerability he was prepared to exploit. He would do or say whatever was necessary to get her to come home with him. The world was at his fingertips. He could meet whatever demands she might make of him.

“You’re thinking hard,” she said, pulling deftly into the parking lot and claiming at space. “But at least you’re not scowling anymore.”

“I’m too relaxed to scowl.”

“Well, then, the food and a beer might put you to sleep.”

He climbed out of the passenger seat and looked over the roof to where she stood on the driver’s side. “Don’t count on it.”

“Promises, promises,” she teased.

He met her around the front, raking her with a head-to-toe glance. She’d lost her makeup and hairstyle in the shower, but he didn’t see her as any less stunning now. The dress was amazing for its simplicity, allowing the woman inside it to take center stage—a woman who was presently commando in public, which drove him insane every time he thought about it.

For the last dozen years he’d hungered for this, spending time with her, being teased by her, feeling wanted for something other than his money and power. His mother had warned him that Faith was a gold digger, and while it took one to know one, he’d never believed it. In fact, he’d come to wonder if his father’s money had actually been a sticking point between him and Faith. While she’d never said so aloud, Faith had grown noticeably uncomfortable whenever he talked about the things he wanted to buy her and the places he wanted to take her.

As they entered the sports bar with his hand at her lower back, he felt the same pride at being seen with her that he’d felt as a kid. She was beautiful, with a body built for sin, but she was also down to earth and self-effacing. She had a wicked sense of humor and a keen sense of fair play. He found it sexy as hell that she could diagnose and repair any car trouble, had minor plumbing skills, and could put together any home electronics system, regardless of how many cords and connections were required. His best friend in high school had said she would be the perfect girl if only she liked sports. Miguel knew she was perfect even without that interest.

They slid into a booth, and ordered some beer and hot wings to start. After the waiter moved away, Miguel leaned back and opened conversation. “It looked like business is doing well at the shop.”

“It is. Although the town has grown, it still has that small town mentality. Even after they built the auto mall and the dealerships moved in, most of the residents trust us more. And they send a lot of referrals our way.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re the best mechanic there is.”

Her eyes sparkled in that way that made him feel like a king. He wanted to give her everything, spoil her to excess, just so he could see her look at him like that every day.

“Thank you.”

“Are Russell and Jason still there?”

“Of course. They love it, too. It’s in our blood.” She thanked the barback who brought their drinks and the young man’s appreciation of her beauty was evident in his returning grin. His expression sobered, however, when he looked at Miguel.

Faith laughed. Even over the blaring music he heard it and the sound tightened his chest. “I see you’re still possessive.”

“Only with you.”

Her smile faded slowly. “Don’t waste the energy on me.”

One brow arched. “Why not?”

“Because when I’m with you, you’re the only man I see.” Her words were accompanied by a Mona Lisa smile that left him wondering if there was any truth at all to her words, or if she was teasing him.

“Then maybe I should stick around.”

She took a long pull on her beer, choosing to drink from the bottle rather than use the frosted glass next to it. He found that erotic. Of course, everything about her was erotic to his mind.

“You’d go stir crazy around here,” she said.

“Probably,” he agreed, knowing he was addicted to the adrenaline rush inherent in his line of work. The closest he came to relaxing while conscious was when he was with Faith. “Are either of your brothers married?”

“Jason came close once, but the gal joined the Coast Guard and he wasn’t willing to leave Rio Penasquitos. Russell has never come close. I’m beginning to doubt he ever will. He’s got commitment avoidance syndrome.”

Miguel picked at the label on his bottle. “He just hasn’t found the right woman yet.”

“That’s what my mother says.”

“I’ve been told I have commitment issues.” He held her gaze. “But I was prepared to marry you. Was desperate to, actually. So everyone would know you belonged to me.”

She paled.

He pushed forward. As always, he was playing to win. “You didn’t ask me why I’m here. Aren’t you curious?”

The hot wings arrived at the table. The large round plate was set between them, but neither of them moved to eat.

“Yes,” Faith said, so quietly that he read her answer on her lips rather than heard it. “I’m curious.”

“I recently broke up with someone I’d been seeing for several months. She was pressing for… more. And I couldn’t give it to her. Our last night together wasn’t pretty. She was upset and said some things that weren’t pleasant. But the only thing that stuck with me was her assertion that she was perfect for me. That we were compatible in every way and I was just too fucked up to see it.”

“Ouch.” But her eyes were hard, her mouth pursed with jealousy. She may tease him about his possessiveness, but she was equally so. Always had been. It had taken her months to believe he was really interested in her and several more months beyond that to convince her that while he wanted into her pants in the worst way, that wasn’t why he was dating her. Once she’d come to believe that the rich boy with the good looks, Aston Martin, and deftness with a football was really interested in a poor girl who worked a dirty job and was never part of the “in” crowd, she’d become a tigress. He was her man and anyone who forgot that was swiftly reminded.

He couldn’t wait to see her at a company party, her lithe legs in heels and a champagne flute in her hand. She’d have her arm around his and a look in her eyes that said, Yes, he’s my arm candy. Only I get to taste.

“She was right,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “There wasn’t anything wrong with her—aside from the fact she wasn’t you.”

Faith’s eyes were so dilated; the blue of her irises was a mere sliver around the black center. “Miguel, I…” Her voice trailed off, as if she didn’t know what to say.

“I came back to prove to myself that being with you couldn’t possibly be the way I remembered.” Lifting his beer bottle, he dipped the neck toward her in a toast. “And I was right. It’s better.”

He cursed his inability to read her thoughts. She looked shaken, but not overly pleased about his confession. He reminded himself that she’d dumped him—callously. Maybe being with him long term was something she still didn’t want. Maybe he was just a hot fuck.

“It was always good between us,” she said finally, pulling herself together and arranging wings on a plate before handing it to him.

“So what happened?” he asked, detesting the gruffness of his voice that gave too much away. It was time to be honest, but ripping himself open wasn’t how he wanted to manage this.

Wiping her hands with a napkin, she looked at him, her features soft and her eyes impossibly sad. “You were going to Princeton; I wasn’t. I knew a clean break was the only way you would go without me holding you back.”

Miguel froze from the inside out. His hand tightened with white-knuckled force on the bottle. With his gut churning with anger and confusion, he seized the one thing out of the mess of his emotions that mattered to him. “Did you love me?”

Her hands stilled. She looked at him with luminous eyes. “More than anything.”

“Bullshit.” He rubbed at his chest, trying to ease the ache that made it hard to breathe. “If that was true, you would’ve come with me. The fact is, you loved your family more. And this town, the shop—”

“I would have held you back even if I’d g-gone with you!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Your parents thought I was after your money. Hanging on to you would only have proven them right.”

“As if I gave a shit what they thought. They would have come around eventually, and it wouldn’t have mattered to me if they didn’t.”

“It mattered to me. You had years of college ahead of you—fraternities, sports, late night-studying… There was no place for me in that.”

He pushed the beer away, feeling sick. “I would have made a place for you. Or we could have agreed to a long-distance relationship. Phone calls, visits, holiday breaks.”

“All of which would have interrupted time with your father and curbed your freedom to network. You needed to create the contacts you could use in the future.”

“I hate to break it to you, mi querida,” he said coldly, “but I was fucking miserable all through college. I might have continued being miserable afterward, if I hadn’t become numb to everything.”

Faith inhaled sharply. A tear slid down her cheek, pissing him off. She had no right to cry over his pain, not when she’d caused it.

He turned, pushing out of the booth, unable to sit there and bleed over her tears, which he couldn’t bear.

“Miguel.” She stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Wait. We’ll go together.”

Catching her by the wrist, he yanked her toward him. “You once told me you’d love me forever. Was that a lie, too?”

“How can you ask me that, after tonight?” she whispered, tears streaming.

“Then, yes, we’ll go together.” He released her and stood. He dug into his pocket for his money clip and tossed cash on the table. “Back to New York. Where you should have been the last eleven years.”

She wiped at her wet cheeks with both hands. “I can’t.”

He shot her a scathing look. “What’s the excuse now? I’ve climbed the ladders I needed to. Now I’ve got everything I want, except for you.”

“It’s not you—”

“It’s me? You’re not seriously going to shovel that.”

“It’s– I…” She took another deep breath. “I have a son.”

The ground dropped out from beneath his feet. He swore the room tilted. The overly loud music pounded through his skull. He stumbled away from the booth, nearly toppling a waitress balancing a full-tray of food. Apologizing over his shoulder, he made his way outside, desperate for air in his burning lungs.

They spoke not a word on the ride back. The only concession Miguel made was to carry the to-go bag she’d taken the time to order before they left the restaurant and to hold the door open for her when they got back to the bungalow.

He went into the bedroom, his body taut with a tension that told her to give him some time alone. She went to the kitchen and began unpacking the food, her hands shaking from the raw pain she’d seen on his face. She had been half-afraid she wouldn’t find him waiting by the car when she exited the sports pub, but she’d known she would follow him if he called a cab.

This day of reckoning was long overdue.

Faith made two plates of steak and shrimp fajitas with all the fixin’s, then set them on the small round dining table. She began to eat, ravenous in a way only a stress-eater could be.

She was nearly done by the time Miguel reappeared. He entered the living area dressed in striped silk pajama bottoms and nothing else. There was a new bottle of cognac on the table behind the couch and he went to it, opening it and pouring himself a glass. He glanced at her in silent inquiry, but she shook her head.

Now that he was in front of her—the beautiful boy she’d loved now a formidably gorgeous man—she was struck by how much she stood to lose. There was nothing to be done about it, not with as disparate as their lives were. They’d eventually make each other miserable. Resentment would grow in whichever one of them was forced to give up their lifestyle and livelihood for the other.

He lifted the tulip-shaped glass of amber liquid to his lips and drank, his eyes closing with a weariness that broke her heart.

“I didn’t know you still cared,” she said softly, pushing her plate away. “I thought you’d get to New York, meet some gorgeous supermodel, and realize you’d dodged a bullet with me.”

“Shut up,” he snapped. “I don’t need to be insulted on top of everything else.”

“I wasn’t—” The look on his face made her recoil back into the chair.

“You martyred yourself for our love, but I’m so shallow any hot piece of ass would do?”

“That’s not what I meant.” She inhaled deeply, taking the hit because she deserved it. “I did it as much for me as for you. I did it for both of us, and no matter how pissed off you are—and I’m not saying you don’t have the right to be—I still believe I made the right decision.”

Miguel tossed back his 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 know why I work at the shop?”

“It supports your entire family and you’re damned good at fixing cars.”

“Yes, thank God, because I don’t know how to do anything else. I’m lucky that I enjoy it. I go to work every day knowing that my brothers are going to make me laugh, my mom is going to bring something delicious in for lunch, and I’ll get to fuss over my dad. I honestly have no idea what I’d do with myself if I didn’t work, and I couldn’t see how it would be possible for me to do so while you’re making multimillion dollar deals. I’m not sure I’d even enjoy wrenching if my family wasn’t around while I did it. And part of the magic might be that I work on the cars of people I know and grew up around. I don’t know. I just knew that imagining working in a cramped shop off a busy New York street with a bunch of guys I don’t know and cars belonging to people I might not see again… it made me unhappy just thinking about it.”

His hand began to stroke up and down her back, gentling her, which made her realize she was trembling. “I’m listening.”

Faith pressed a kiss to his firm mouth. “I hate to think that I’m one of those people who detest change. I do want to travel and explore. But I want to work, too. I just couldn’t see how I could be happy long-term trying to be the kind of partner a man of your stature needs. And my unhappiness would make you unhappy. It really came down to logistics: you couldn’t stay and I couldn’t go with you. But I knew you’d try to make it work, at great sacrifice to yourself. I was worried you might decide to stay here, for me, when I knew your heart was with joining your father. I wanted you to go to Princeton. I wanted you to do the things you always talked about doing. But most of all, I didn’t want us to make each other miserable. I would rather have us end with one bad memory between us, than with years’ worth of them.”

“We could have compromised.”

“How?” she challenged. “Like Persephone and Hades? Six months in New York and six months here?”

“Not a bad idea,” he said evenly.

“You see why I knew we couldn’t talk about this?”

“We’re going to talk about it.” He stood, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. He moved to the couch and settled with her still straddling him. “We’re going to make this work.”

Her eyes stung. Everything was different now. Her family was financially stable; Miguel had proven to be as lovesick as she’d been all these years. Anything should have been possible. But it wasn’t. Because she’d kept a secret from him for too long, and now, no matter when she told him, it was too late. The damage was done.

“Miguel—”

He caught her face in his hands, holding her gaze to his. “I need you, Faith. I’m miserable without you. If you’ll work with me on this, bend a little, we can do this. Summer school breaks in New York, the rest of the year here. I can commute twice a week. Fly out Sunday and come back Thursday night. We’ll start out slow, give me some time to become a fixture in your life, let Michael get to know me and see how much I love you. How much I’ll love him.”

Oh God. Her heart was breaking, crumbling into shattered pieces with every word he spoke. “There are things we have to talk about. Things I have to tell you.”

He searched her face, his thumbs rubbing softly along her jaw. “Can we discuss it tomorrow? It’s going to be my birthday in thirty minutes and I want to be inside you when midnight rolls around.”

“It’s not right for me to go to bed with you when this is between us.” Her heart was pounding, her palms damp. “I’d be taking advantage of you.”

“Please do.” He brazenly stroked his cock through his pajama bottoms. “The morning is only hours away. Soon enough to clear the air.”

He was giving her a reprieve she shouldn’t take. “This is important.”

“So tell me.” Untying the drawstring of his pants, he lifted his hips—and her—to tug them down.

“I’m not going to discuss this while you rock out with your cock out.”

Catching her wrist, Miguel pulled her hand down and wrapped her fingers around him. “I can’t think when I’m this hard anyway.”

He felt like warm marble in her grasp. She gave a tentative stroke and he groaned, tendons cording his neck. Her lips were suddenly dry and she licked them.

Sliding of the couch, she kneeled between his legs and lowered her head.

Miguel watched with heavy-lidded eyes as Faith’s tongue darted out and licked the tip of his dick. She made a soft noise of pleasure and reached between his legs to cup his balls. His head fell back into the sofa cushion, his breath heaving in and out. The sight of her between his legs always drove him insane. Seeing those lush pink lips stretch around the thick head, watching her eyes grow dark with desire. As good as it felt, it was the knowledge that she loved pleasing him this way that made it so damn hot. She got off on his hunger for her, got off on knowing that he was absolutely defenseless when she had her hands on him.

Tilting her head, she ran her tongue down the pulsing length of his cock, following the line of a thick vein. His hands fisted by his thighs. She swirled her tongue around the head, then fluttered the tip just beneath the crown.

“Fuck. Faith, your mouth…”

She gave him her mouth, parting her lips to take the top few inches into her.

His back arched with a serrated groan. The drenching heat around the most sensitive part of him nearly drove him out of his mind. Her gentle fingertips massaging his balls just about rolled his eyes into the back of his head.

“God, that’s good,” he gasped, his thighs trembling. “Yes, mi amor. Suck my dick. Ah… yes, hard and deep…”

Her hot little mouth drew on him with rapid rhythmic fervor. Her cheeks hollowed on every pull, her head lifting and falling in counter-tempo to her fist pumping at the base. The pleasure was vicious, tightening around his spine and pooling at his lower back. The erotic sounds filling the room—her low moans of pleasure, the wet suckling, his helpless curses as he felt the orgasm barreling through him.

“No more,” he growled, fisting her hair and lifting her head from his lap.

Her hands tightened on his cock and balls. “Miguel—”

“No.” He caught her wrists and urged her up. “In your pussy, mi hermosa. Deep inside you.”

Pulling her onto the couch, he pressed her back, sliding his hands up her silken thighs and beneath her skirt. She was hot and wet for him, just from sucking his cock. He parted her with his fingers, rubbing her clit with easy gentle circles. She gasped and arched into his touch.

With his mouth watering for her, he slid down and draped one of her legs over his shoulder; the other rested on the floor, opening her wide. She lay there, breathless beneath him, her pretty pink folds glistening with her desire. Her clit was hard and peeping out from its hood, silently begging for attention.

“Mine,” he whispered. “All mine.”

Surrounding the tender knot with his lips, Miguel worked it with the tip of his stiffened tongue, fluttering over it until she cried out and bucked into his kiss, coming hard and with such wild abandon he almost lost it.

He pulled himself over her, keeping one of her lithe legs high against his chest. He plunged into her, growling at the feel of her climaxing around his aching cock. Gripping the couch arm for leverage, he powered into her, his orgasm catching the tail of hers and ripping through him. He was rocked by the force of it, his body shuddering so brutally he feared hurting Faith. He clutched her to him, holding her still, his eyes stinging as she held him just as tightly.

“I love you,” she sobbed, her short nails digging into his back, where they belonged.

Where he intended to make sure they would always be from this night forward.

Miguel woke to the sound of the Corvette’s purring engine. Stretching, he opened his eyes and looked at the place beside him where Faith should have been. She’d left a note written on the bed and breakfast’s letterhead, telling him she’d be back in a couple hours, which would still give them time to talk before they had lunch with Michael.

Michael. The English version of his name. Faith would have known that when she picked it. He took some comfort in that small tie, what precious little he could glean from a situation that evidenced another man’s touch on her, a man who shared something profound—a child—with her.

Tossing back the covers, he climbed out of bed. He had a lot to do before Faith returned. He needed to extend his time off and make sure the bungalow was open for the next couple of weeks. He needed to talk with his father about a work week in which he teleconferenced as necessary on Thursdays and Fridays. He’d need to purchase a car for his use in California and talk to his mother about his altered circumstances.

In the end, after his shower, he headed to his mother’s first. He knew if he stayed away too much longer, she’d come looking for him, and the last thing he wanted was to be interrupted while enjoying Faith. He also wanted to talk with her about some of the things Faith had said. Meredith Santos had left her husband, whom she claimed to still love, to return to her hometown and raise her son. Miguel had been too hurt by the break-up as a kid to ask about it and later on it had seemed like none of his business, but now he saw parallels to Faith’s concerns. Any insight he could gain in understanding where Faith was coming from was very much worth it to him to explore. He knew what it was like to lose her; he didn’t want to live through that again.

But when he turned onto the street where his mother’s very out-of-place mansion was located, it was just in time to see her pulling out in her silver Bentley.