Page 40 of My Fallen Saint

“You’re fragile, Sherlock. You know it. I know it. He knows it. And he may not be the devil incarnate, but I wouldn’t put it past him to prey on it.”

“Clarity, please? I’ve had much wine during this shindig.”

“Play the game if you think it’ll get your story. But be careful. And don’t lose your head.”

I smile up at him. “I never do.”

“Yeah, well, don’t lose your heart, either.”

“Trust me. There’s nothing between me and Devlin Saint.”

“Good,” Lamar says. “Keep it that way.”

It’s good advice. I try to take it to heart as Lamar disappears into the crowd, then I stiffen when I notice Devlin looking right at me, his expression as cold as ice. And, of course, the mermaid is standing right next to him.

My gut twists, and I hate myself for that reaction. He doesn’t owe me anything, and I tell myself that I don’t want him anyway. Not anymore. Not after what he did.

Don’t you?

I ignore the little voice in my head, because it’s wrong. Am I still attracted to him? Hell, yes. The teenager was good-looking, but the man is drop dead gorgeous and oozes sensuality. Of course, I’m still attracted to him.

But what we had wasn’t real, and it’s fizzled away like cotton candy in the rain.

I understand that now. I’d been young and impressionable, and he’d been an ass. True story. End of story.

I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.

I take a deep breath as an attitude adjustment, force the whole thing out of my head, and start circulating again. It’s a party after all.

I’ve chatted with half-a-dozen people and am about to freshen my drink when I catch myself glancing around the room and realize I’m looking for Devlin. He, however, is nowhere to be found. Instead, I see the mermaid … and she’s heading straight for me.

I consider diving under the draped table upon which all the various items for the silent auction sit, but I’m a bigger person than that. Plus, I’m in her line of sight.

Instead, I smile as she approaches, hoping I look like a friendly party guest enjoying the food, drink, and networking.

She stops about eight inches from me, flashes a bright smile, and extends her hand, which, naturally, I shake in reflex. “Anna Lindstrom,” she says. Her smile is wide and friendly, but even so, I’m intimidated. Her voice is sultry, and with her height, her heels, and her near-perfect good looks, I feel a bit like a schlub. A short schlub.

“I’m Devlin’s assistant,” she adds. Devlin, I note. Not Mr. Saint.

“Oh. Right.” I clear my throat. “I’m Elsa Holmes. Ellie.”

She laughs. “I know. I’m so sorry about the mix-up yesterday. Devlin’s asked me to pencil you in for Monday.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m the one who takes care of everything for Dev.”

Yeah, I think. I bet you do.

It’s catty, but considering how glued she’s been to his side all evening, I have a sense of what everything encompasses. But it’s not any of my business. Not anymore.

“I appreciate that,” I say in my most polite voice.

“It was lovely meeting you, Ellie. I’m going to go check in with the catering staff, but enjoy the rest of your evening.” She flashes that warm smile, triggering another wave of guilt as I assure her I will.

As she heads back into the throng, I see Lamar heading toward me again, only this time he’s accompanied by one of the best-looking men I’ve ever seen in my life. With broad shoulders and chiseled features, he looks like some sort of mythical Nordic god. Arguably, even better looking than Devlin, though I don’t personally go for blond hair. Not anymore, anyway.

Still, I wouldn’t say no in a pinch…