after the rest of her family arrived, they headed toward the ballroom. Sage pretended to be attentive, but her mind was preoccupied. She was still thinking about the homeless man. She was curious about him.
She had seen enough homeless people on the streets and in the shelters to recognize that there was something different about him. He did not wear that same look of hopelessness, that yearning-to-be-whole-again vibe that hung on their bodies like a blanket. His downward spiral was something that he had suffered recently.
“What are you thinking about?” Blaze leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You look a million miles away.”
“I was thinking about this person I saw earlier today. He was homeless.”
Blaze met her gaze. “You gave him money, didn’t you?”
She nodded. “I know how you feel about that, but I have good instincts about people, and this guy is no drug addict or alcoholic.”
“But he could be gambling,” Blaze suggested. “There is a reason he is on the streets, sis.”
“Or he could have lost his job and his home,” Sage countered. “Blaze, not everyone who is homeless is on the streets because of vices. Sometimes it is just plain bad luck.”
“I agree,” Blaze stated, “but they are the minority.”
“You should come to the shelter with me next weekend.” Sage took a sip of her ice water. “Once you meet some of these people, I think your opinion will change greatly.”
“I’ll think about it,” he responded. Blaze rose to his feet and held out his hand. “C’mon, let’s go show these people how we used to get down in Georgia.”
Sage chuckled. “I’ll sit this one out. You go ahead. I’m sure you won’t have a problem finding a dance partner.”
* * *
Shortly after eleven, Barbara confessed she was tired and ready to leave.
Both of her brothers couldn’t have been more relieved by their mother’s decision. Sage picked up her purse, and they left as they had arrived—as a family.
Blaze joined Sage in her residence when they left the fundraiser.
“So, how do you like living in Beverly Hills?” she asked her brother after they settled down in the living room. “Do you ever regret moving out here?” Sage removed her designer high heels; they were cute but uncomfortable.
“Why do you ask?”
“Sometimes you look really sad, Blaze.” Sage shrugged. “Ever since you came back from Las Vegas last year, you haven’t really seemed yourself.” She paused a moment before asking, “Blaze, did something happen while you were there?”
His expression was instantly guarded. “Like what?”
“Did you meet someone?” Sage inquired.
Blaze waited a moment before responding, as if searching for the right words. “I met someone, but it didn’t last long. I guess it was over before it really started.”
“It seems like you really cared for her, especially if you are still haunted by her. Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head no. “There’s really nothing to talk about, sis.”
Sage didn’t press her brother. She knew Blaze well enough to know that he would open up whenever he was ready. Until then, it was best to drop the subject.
“How about you?” Blaze asked. “How’s your love life going?”
She broke into laughter. “What love life? I don’t know what that is.”
“Have you found it harder to meet someone since our lives have changed?”
Sage nodded. “I don’t trust as easily as I did in the past. I guess it’s because I have to wonder if it’s me or our father’s money that guys want.” Sighing softly, she leaned back against the cushions. “I’m happy for Daddy and I love my job and even living here in Beverly Hills, but I hate being the focus of the media, dealing with cousin Harold and his drama and wondering if people like us for ourselves.”
Blaze nodded in agreement. “Some of the women I’ve gone out with once or twice expect me to take them shopping or pay their bills. It’s crazy. It’s just dinner and a movie. I’m not trying to marry them.”
“I want a man who wants me for me and not for what our parents have. He inherited Robert DePaul’s money—not us.”
“We are his heirs, though,” Blaze interjected. “Sage, you might as well get used to the reality that we will never be able to escape the DePaul legacy.”
* * *
Ryan made sure that Paige had everything she needed before leaving her and the baby at a small motel on Sunset Boulevard.
He promised to check up on her later in the day. She was a nice young woman who needed a break in life. He was going to make sure that she received one, too.
Ryan was on his way back to the Alexander-DePaul Hotel in Beverly Hills. He was hoping to see the beautiful heiress who had locked eyes with him and given him money without so much as a second thought. A few people passing by tossed a dollar or two his way, but Sage Alexander had been the only one who dared to look him in the eye. She never once averted her gaze—a quality Ryan liked in people. His first impression of her was a good one.
Sage’s unselfish gesture had given him a great intro for his article. Her family was one of the main subjects in the article, and it pleased Ryan that Sage appeared to be as generous a benefactor as her grandfather.
There was much more he wanted to learn about Sage and her family.
Sage Alexander.
Her beauty mesmerized him. She was an unforgettable woman, and Ryan found himself wanting to know more about her on both a professional and personal level.
Giving him a hundred dollars was one thing but actually holding a conversation with a homeless man was another story. Ryan didn’t want to frighten Sage in any way, so he had to be careful in his approach.
He had been careful not to settle too close to the hotel property upon his arrival. Ryan did not want to risk police involvement or getting arrested. No one knew the real identity of R. G. McCall outside of his editors, and Ryan wanted to keep it this way.
Ryan wanted to stay as anonymous as possible.
Chapter 4
A black Mercedes pulled up and parked in front of the hotel doors.
Ryan watched as Drayden Alexander stepped out of the driver’s seat and walked around the car, handing the keys to the valet. He was dressed in a suit that fit nicely but was off the rack. Ryan wasn’t much for custom-tailored suits either.
Drayden never once glanced in Ryan’s direction; instead, he seemed focused
