Page 59 of Royally Romanov
Or not.
“We do.” Father Kozlov turned his gaze toward Maxim. “I’m assuming you’d like to proceed?”
“I do.” He glanced at Finley.
She smiled and nodded. Not that he needed her permission, but she knew what he was thinking. She was thinking about the same thing—the Century Rule.
Hello, royal boyfriend. Good-bye, career.
What was wrong with her? Maxim wasnother boyfriend. A few rogue kisses didn’t constitute a relationship. If anything, the fact that Maxim was probably an actual Romanov made her even more determined to keep her distance. He was going to get her fired. She was sure of it.
Yet here you sit, right beside him, wearing his grandmother’s bracelet.
“I’ll contact the other church leaders right away. If all goes well, we can arrange for a DNA test as early as tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.Oh God.Finley’s remaining time at the Louvre could probably be tallied in hours now, rather than days.
“One more thing,” the priest added. “Do you have a birth certificate?”
Maxim nodded. “Yes, I found it in a file just the other day when I was going through the things in my grandmother’s... inmy... apartment.”
“Good. You’ll need it for the DNA test. Until then, I suggest you keep it someplace safe.”
“I understand.” Maxim stood to say his good-byes.
Finley scooted Gerard out of her lap and rose from her chair, but her legs were shaky. She swayed on her feet.
Someplace safe.
She’d brushed off Maxim’s concerns before, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been right. As heir to the Romanov fortune, he’d be worth millions. Maybe even billions.
Her gaze strayed to the bruise on his temple. She thought of the others—the ones hidden from view—and her breath grew shallow.
Was Maxim in danger?
Was she?
“It was nice to meet you both.À bientôt.” Father Kozlov escorted them out of his office, back toward the hall that lead to the cathedral’s grand sanctuary.
Finley managed to say good-bye, despite her looming panic attack. When Father Kozlov tried to bend down to give Gerard a parting pat on the head, she lifted the dog off the floor for better access. The priest grinned and rubbed Gerard behind the ears while he praised him in a long stream of Russian words.
After he’d gone, Finley looked up to find Maxim staring down at her with the same grave expression he’d worn in the bookstore, right before he’d left her.
“You look distinctly displeased for someone who just discovered he’s Russian royalty,” she said.
She might be on the verge of freaking out, but Maxim didn’t need to know that.
“Finley.” His gaze narrowed, penetrating straight to her core.
Okay, maybe he already knew.
She was afraid. And apparently she couldn’t quite hide it. But she wasn’t about to walk away. Not now. Things had gone too far. She was involved, whether he liked it or not.
She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You should probably know that the charms on the bracelet you gave me are long-lost Imperial Russian treasures.”
His brows rose by an almost imperceptible fraction. Finley was 100 percent certain he was only a breath away from ordering her to go home—alone—but the corner of his mouth tugged into a hint of a smile. He reached for her free hand, and gently lifted it.
The bracelet made a dainty tinkling sound as he turned her wrist for inspection. The ruby eggs and the pavé diamonds on the tiny crowns dazzled beneath the cathedral’s soft candlelight.
