Page 67 of My Fallen Saint

Chapter Twenty

Iconsider going down to the casino to gamble since Devlin has a meeting tonight, but he suggests I stay in and work on my article. “I’ll take you around the casino tomorrow,” he promises. “Trust me. It will be more fun if you’re with the owner.”

That’s when I realize that, like the fleet of jets, Devlin owns this casino personally, and he donates the space for the foundation. It’s another fun fact that I put in the warm and fuzzy column, and I’m not sure that the growing list of Good Things About Devlin is making it easier to like him or harder to know he’s not mine.

None of which matters in the grand scheme of things. I’m here to write an article, and he’s here to work. And since he’s actually right, I go into my bedroom to change into sweats and a T-shirt, then come back into the living room so I can stream bad reality TV while I work on my article.

I’m booting up my computer when the room phone rings. I start to call for Devlin, then decide to just answer it myself.

“Ellie,” Tamra says. “How good to hear your voice. I hope you’re enjoying Nevada.”

“So far, so good,” I tell her. “The Phoenix is amazing.”

“It really is, isn’t it? I’m sorry I had to stay in California. I hope everything’s going smoothly.”

“On my end, absolutely. Devlin’s changing clothes to go to some meeting. Do you need me to get him?”

“Don’t bother. Just tell him everything is set for the casino meeting.”

“Will do. Poor guy.”

“I’m sorry?”

There’s a hint of alarm in her voice, and I hurry to explain. “No, no, I’m just teasing. He offered to take me to the casino tomorrow. If I’d known he had to go to one tonight I would have held off and told him I could just go by myself.”

“Oh!” Her laugh is thin. “We’ll, it’s Vegas. I don’t suppose you can get too much of the casino life, can you?”

“Guess we’ll decide that after I tally up tomorrow’s losings.”

She laughs, and I hang up then cross the room and knock on Devlin’s door. “Tamra called,” I begin at the same time that he says, “Come in.”

“She said to tell you that the casino meeting —” I push open the door, then stop dead in my tracks, completely and totally enraptured. Because right now he’s wearing only jeans, the fly half-open as they sit on his hips, his upper body completely, deliciously bare.

I knew he was gorgeous—hell, he always has been—but I’d been holding the memory of a boy in my mind. Nineteen, true, but still a boy.

Devlin Saint, however, is a man, and a very ripped one at that. Where once had been a skinny torso there’s now the broad chest and well-defined abs of a man who works out regularly. I’d seen his strength when he’d pulled me off of Mr. GT, then felt it when he’d held me tight in his arms. But he’d been covered then, that impressive body hidden under a veil of clothes.

He doesn’t look like a saint at all. Instead, he’s a fallen angel. A man with power and poise and a dangerous edge. And right now, he’s looking at me with so much heat it’s a wonder I don’t melt into the floor.

“The meeting?” he prods, and it takes a short eternity for me to figure out what the devil he’s talking about.

“Oh. Set. The casino meeting is set.”

He nods. “Good to know,” he says, then pulls on a long-sleeved black Henley.

He looks at me, and I see the naked desire on his face. But he only cocks a brow and says, “Is there something else?”

I want to cry out that yes, yes, of course there’s something else. I want to trail my fingers over his bare skin. I want to feel his lips against mine. I want to burn with this man, so hot and fast and wild that every memory of our past turns to ash, the pain and loss scattering like so much dust in the wind.

But I say none of that.

All I do is shake my head as I whisper, “No. That’s all.” And as I walk silently back to my room, all I can think is how damned unfortunate it is that after everything he took from me, he still won’t give me closure.

I wake disoriented, unsure what roused me. The room is dark except for a single shaft of light cutting across the living area, and I sit up, groggy, and realize that I fell asleep on the sofa while watching the news and working on my article.

The television, however, is off.

My mind’s still fuzzy, and so I don’t realize that Devlin must have turned it off when he returned until I hear a muffled curse, a sharp bang, and the musical clatter of broken glass.