question—Is your name really Alejandro Lopez?
He picked up his pace, his shoulders stiff and his expression impassive as he moved toward the doors with Ellie keeping pace beside him. He knew he should answer. Should stop and speak, and maybe he even would have if one question hadn’t burst through, louder and bolder than all the rest—
Mr. Saint, did you kill your father?
No.
No, no, no.
Whatever strength he had faded in that moment. He felt ten years old again, back at the compound, his father demanding that Alejandro make him proud, because one day the boy would inherit his father’s legacy.
He’d never wanted it. He’d worked his whole life to avoid it. To shed it.
And here it was, thrust upon him under the fire of questions and cameras.
Goddammit.
The curse rang through him, but he kept his expression calm. He was stone. He was ice. He’d learned a long time ago how to not show emotion. He had his father to thank for that. And right now, the lessons he’d learned at that bastard’s hand were going to get him and Ellie safely inside that building.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Saint.” A tall woman with flaming red hair rushed to usher them inside. She signaled to the doormen to hurry and get the door closed, and only when they were completely shut did Devlin let his guard down the tiniest bit. Just enough to look down at Ellie.
She looked back at him, her expression as lost as his. “Devlin,” she whispered. “You’re hurting me.”
That’s when he realized that he’d almost crushed her hand. He let go immediately, opening his mouth to apologize. For the pain, for the crowd. For being the man he was—a man whose very existence had made her endure a spectacle like that.
But the words didn’t come. Instead, they were joined by a lanky man in a tuxedo. He had salt-and-pepper hair, a friendly face, and sad eyes. “I’m Arthur Packard,” he said, extending his hand. “The committee chair. Do you think we could have a word?”
Devlin’s heart flipped. He wasn’t a fool. He knew what that meant, and he kept his fingers twined with Ellie’s as Packard led them to a back room before excusing himself for a moment.
“They’re going to withdraw the award.” He knew he was talking, but he could barely hear the words. He was numb. Completely numb.
Beside him, Ellie nodded. “Yes.”
“Goddammit.” He slammed his fist into his thigh, wanting to feel. He wanted fury. Wanted indignation. He wanted something other than this haze of numbness. And the horrible, pressing fear that no matter how far he ran—no matter what he accomplished—he would forever be tainted with the sins of his father.
Chapter Five
“Devlin.”
Her voice was soft, almost tentative. And just like that, he knew that he could get through this. Because no matter what else the universe threw at him, he still had El beside him.
Slowly, he reached for her, closing his hand gently around hers. She squeezed, as if offering her strength, and he pulled her close, then held her tight before bending his head to press a soft kiss on her sweet-scented hair.
“Are you okay?”
He pulled back, and she tilted her head to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” he said, wanting only to erase the worry in her eyes.
“No, you’re not.”
“No,” he agreed. “I’m not. But so long as you’re with me, I’ll get through this.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He wanted to pull her close. To bury his anger in passion. But that wasn’t possible now. Hell, with the door opening and Packard walking back in, even a kiss wasn’t in the offing.
Instead, he held her hand as he turned to face Packard and the second man who’d joined him.
Devlin saw the truth etched in the lines of their faces and spoke first. “You’re pulling the award.”
“I’m very sorry,” Packard said, looking both frustrated and embarrassed. “It wasn’t my decision.”
“It was mine,” the other man said, his chin lifted as he stepped forward. “I’m Blair Livingston. I’m in charge of all of the council’s operations. And under the circumstances, I’m afraid we can’t risk our reputation.”
“You think your reputation will be served by denying a humanitarian award to my foundation simply because of who my father is?”
“I think it’s a public relations risk we aren’t willing to take. You’ve kept your parentage a secret.” Livingston shrugged. “Who knows what other secrets you’ve been keeping.”
Devlin tensed, a violent fury rising in him. This wasn’t something he could fix with money or power or a sniper’s rifle. This