Page 32 of Royally Romanov
Notbonne nuit.Notgood night.
Au revoir.
Good-bye.
The difference wasn’t lost on him.
He fixed his gaze with hers, imploring her to change her mind.Stay. Please. “Au revoir,Finley.”
Then the detective slammed the door shut, and she was gone. Maxim’s hands balled into fists as he turned his attention toward the officer. He felt like hitting something. No, not something. Someone. Namely, thedétective.
He managed to refrain, figuring he was in enough trouble already.
“It seems you’ve gotten back on your feet with remarkable speed.” Detective Durand glanced at Maxim’s exposed chest and lifted a brow.
Maxim glared at thedétectiveand began buttoning his shirt. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“One of your neighbors reported suspicious activity around your flat earlier today.” He pulled a notepad from his pocket and flipped through it until he found the page he was looking for. “A Madame Pinot in unit three.”
Maxim frowned. “Unit three is right upstairs.”
“Oui, I know. I took Madame Pinot’s statement earlier today.”
If the detective had been here earlier, then he knew Maxim hadn’t been home. He’d been at the Louvre with Finley. “Then you’re aware I wasn’t home this afternoon, so how could I have been doing anything suspicious?”
The detective shrugged. “I didn’t say that you were, Monsieur Laurent.”
Maxim crossed his arms. “Then I fail to see a problem here.” Other than the fact that Finley had run away and would probably never return. Oh, and he still couldn’t remember the past few years. Nor did he know why he’d been attacked.
The detective narrowed his gaze. “You don’t consider it a problem that someone tried to break into your apartment today?”
“Is that what happened?” He’d said suspicious activity. He’d never mentioned a burglary.
Maxim raked a hand through his hair and glanced around the apartment. Nothing appeared to be out of place. Then again, he couldn’t be certain—he’d only been home from the hospital a few weeks and was still adjusting to a home he only remembered as his grandmother’s.
The detective gave his notepad another cursory glance. “Around noon today, Madame Pinot saw a man attempting to enter your flat. A man who bore no resemblance to you.”
Of course the guy didn’t look like him. Why would he break into his own apartment? Nothing about this police visit was making sense. “And?”
“She confronted the man and he left the premises. Madame Pinot then called the police. She’s concerned, not only for your apartment but for the building as a whole. First you were attacked, and now there’s been an attempted break-in. I’m sure you can appreciate her apprehension.”
Maxim swallowed. “Because I was the victim in both of those instances.”
The detective said nothing. He just continued to gaze impassively at Maxim as if waiting for some sort of explanation. An explanation he clearly didn’t have.
Maxim squeezed his eyes shut, willing his memory to return. He didn’t need all of it. Just a flash of recollection of what had happened that night near the steps of Notre Dame. A face. A name. He’d settle for anything.
But all he saw was the doubt that had clouded Finley’s emerald gaze earlier before he’d taken off his shirt. Before she’d touched him. Before they’d kissed.
It doesn’t look good, Maxim.
It didn’t. He knew that. And now things looked even worse.
He opened his eyes. “I understand your need to make the city feel safe again. I get it. People are afraid. But I’ve done nothing wrong.”
That I remember.
He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry.
