Page 47 of Royally Romanov
CHAPTER
TEN
Aperson of interest.
Maxim wasn’t altogether sure what that meant, but it couldn’t be good. His name and face were all over the news. He’d turned on the television to see Detective Durand urging the citizens of Paris to come forward if they had any information regarding Maxim’s background.
Maybe he should have been relieved. He wanted answers.
But being a person of interest didn’t exactly cast him in the best light. He’d promptly turned the television off.
He had to do something. Maxim figured he had only one course of action left. He needed to get in touch with Father Kozlov and make another appointment. From the sound of his message, the priest might not even know why Maxim had reached out to him. But it was worth a try, especially considering that Maxim had run out of other options.
He called the number the priest had left but was only able to reach the church secretary who informed Maxim that Father Kozlov was completely booked for the next ten days.
“I’m afraid the earliest appointment I can give you is Thursday of next week,” she said.
Maxim dropped his head in his hands. What was he supposed to do for the next week? Sit around and will himself to remember who he was?
“You don’t have anything sooner? It’s kind of an emergency.”
“Kind of an emergency or an actual emergency?”
Maxim hesitated for a beat. “An actual emergency. I’m recovering from a, um, medical problem. I think Father Kozlov may be able to help me.”
He hated talking about what had happened to him. He hated even thinking about it, given the way the police had responded to his attack.
Did everyone think he was at fault? Did everyone in Paris think he was dangerous? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.
But in this instance he had no choice. If his injuries could get him an audience with Father Kozlov sooner than next week, so be it. He’d even go so far as to bring along his medical chart if necessary.
“Je suisdésolé.” The secretary’s voice softened. “I can try and fit you in with Father Kozlov today, but it won’t be until later this evening. Will that work?”
“Oui.Merci beaucoup.I’ll be there.” He hung up, and for the first time since Finley had walked out his door, he felt a glimmer of hope.
Finley.
He closed his eyes and waited for the dream, the one that always came. The one he’d first seen in the hospital before he’d even found her. He waited for the vision of her hair whipping in the wind, her ruby-red lips, and her slender curves clad in black. Her hands were always tucked into her pockets, and she stood with one stilettoed foot slightly askew—the telltale adorable quirk that revealed her to be an American. Otherwise, everything about her was classically French. She was elegance personified, with history waltzing in her beguiling mind and poetry on the tip of her tongue.
This time though, his mind conjured a different portrait of her. Instead of the static memory that had gotten him through the long days and even longer nights at Hôpital Hôtel-Dieu, his mind kept coming back to the real Finley. Finley in motion. He saw her face tipped up, her eyes darkened by desire. He saw her in the moment before he’d kissed her for the first time. This wasn’t just a dream, this was a moment he’dlived. A moment he could still hear and taste and feel.
This was remembrance.
The sudden sound of Maxim’s ringtone startled him so badly that he dropped his cell as he came out of his trance. He scrambled to answer it in case it was Father Kozlov and spoke without bothering to glance at the screen.
“Allô?”
“Maxim?” The voice on the other end definitely wasn’t Father Kozlov’s. It wasn’t Detective Durand’s either. It was Finley’s.
“Oui, it’s me.” He lowered his voice, because she was practically whispering, and it seemed the thing to do.
“It’s Finley.”
He smiled. “Yes, I know. Why are we whispering?”
Her voice dropped another octave. “I’m at work. I can’t talk long, but I was wondering if we could meet again tonight... at Shakespeare and Company this time.”
The bookstore was a public place. Maxim was certain the choice had been deliberate. He was also certain that he didn’t care. He just wanted to see her again.
