Page 50 of Royally Romanov
He shook his head and tried not to wince. The pain was growing worse. He could taste it at the back of his throat, terrible and bitter. “I should go.”
Finley flinched, almost as if he’d struck her. “You’releaving?”
He buttoned the coat of his suit jacket. “I have an appointment, remember?”
“Yes, but...” She glanced at her wrist. She wasn’t even wearing a watch, but Maxim got the point. “We just got here. And I just told you something very confidential, something that could get me in a lot of trouble.”
She jammed her hands on her hips and positioned herself between Maxim and the door. She was angry. Good. She had every right to be mad as hell. Maxim could deal with anger.
Tears, on the other hand, would have done him in. Which is why the tiny wobble in her bottom lip nearly brought him to his knees.
Stay angry, Finley. Hate me. I’m not worth your tears.
Maxim wished with every fiber of his being that Scott would emerge from wherever he’d gone and toss him out again.
No such luck.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to get involved in this.” Maxim shook his head.
Given the choice, he gladly would have gone back in time and never walked through the doors of Shakespeare and Company two nights ago. He never would have sought her out. Never would have kissed her.
Liar. You know you would have done all those things.
Maybe he would have, but he could still do the right thing now.
His jaw clenched. “If what you’re saying is true and my grandmother might actually be Anastasia, it could be the reason I was attacked. It could also be the reason someone tried to break into my flat yesterday. You can’t continue to help me, Finley. If something bad were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself. And that includes losing your job at the Louvre.”
“Seriously?” She lifted an agitated brow. To Maxim’s immense relief, the tears in her eyes had thoroughly vanished. Sparks of annoyance took their place. Still, he had to clench his fists at his sides to prevent himself from taking her in his arms. “You don’t get to decide what I do and don’t do. Whether or not I help you is my decision, not yours.”
His jaw clenched, and the pounding in his head kicked up a notch to jackhammer-like proportions. “Finley, don’t.”
She lifted her chin. “You asked me for my help. You can’t just decide you no longer want it. I’m already involved, whether you like it or not.”
They stood staring at each other in some kind of awkward standoff. Why was she making this harder than it already was? Didn’t she have any idea how difficult it was for him to turn his back on her?
A very real part of him wanted to walk away from this whole ugly ordeal. For the past twenty-four hours, he’d given serious thought to doing just that. Without a memory, without a past, he could start his life over again. Someplace else. Someplace new. He could sell his grandmother’s flat and leave Paris with all its nagging questions behind. He’d told himself time and again that there was nothing left for him here.
There was a flaw in that logic, though. Paris wasn’t through with him quite yet. He did have something here. He had Finley.
He could choose to give up on his search and forget all about the Romanovs. But to leave the past dead and buried would mean leaving a part of himself in the grave as well—the part that had come alive in recent days, resurrected by the reverence of Finley’s touch and the taste of her honeyed lips. He didn’t want to give up that part of himself. If he left Paris, he might even ask her to come with him, and that would be ridiculous. They’d known each other for all of two days.
He needed to go.Now, while he could still force himself to walk out the door.
Besides, Father Kozlov wouldn’t wait forever.
Maxim took a strained inhale, gingerly sidestepped Finley and reached for the door. When he twisted the knob, the bells on the door chimed. Gerard’s head popped up. His comically oversized ears twitched, and he peered unblinkingly at Maxim. For perhaps the first time in Maxim’s life, he truly appreciated the expressionpuppy dog eyes.
He stared back at the little Frenchie.Don’t look at me like that. I’m doing the right thing.
Maxim paused, only for a moment. But it was long enough for Finley to aim a frank question at his back.
“Don’t you wonder why?” she said quietly.
Keep walking. Don’t turn around.
Maxim focused on the horizon. Just past the jade-green fountain at the entry to the bookshop, on the banks of the river Seine, stood Notre Dame. Right there, right in the shadow of the cathedral’s gothic beauty, the Point Zero marker was inlaid in the cobblestones. He couldn’t see it from where he stood, but it was scarcely a breath away—the place where everything began. In some morbid way, it seemed fitting that Point Zero had been the spot where he’d almost died. Because something new had started that night, something wild and wonderful. And now the pull of that something prevented him from crossing the threshold.
“Why what?” he said, without turning around. If he turned back and looked at her again, he’d stay. And if he stayed, he’d ruin her.
