Page 77 of Royally Romanov
“Did he have an accident? Is he hurt or...”Dead?She couldn’t even say it. She didn’t even want to think it, but she could see the kaleidoscope lights shining from Notre Dame’s stained-glass windows across the street—rainbow reminders of Maxim’s attack.
“He’s perfectly fine. He’s just not coming.” Scott’s gaze fell to the floor. He didn’t want to be telling her these things. Whywashe telling her these things? Had Maxim spoken to him? “For what it’s worth, he says he’s sorry.”
So Maxim had been to the bookstore. He’d been there, but he couldn’t be bothered to stay and wait for her so he could explain things himself.
Scott took a step toward her but stopped when she wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want to be hugged right then. If he hugged her, she would cry, and she didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to be furious. But instead, the emotions bearing down on her felt like some awful, mixed up version of fury, grief, and embarrassment.
How could she have been so monumentally stupid?
“No.” Her voice was too high, too loud. She sounded almost hysterical, which was about as mortifying as having to listen to her best friend tell her she was being stood up.
Especially there.
Her gaze flitted to the staircase. She could practically see herself leading Maxim to the second floor, pulling him by the hand. She blinked, trying to force the image from her mind. But then she remembered the scene on the piano. And the bed.
She’d never be able to set foot upstairs again.
Open for me, lovely.
Her face burned with shame. She’d opened for Maxim. She’d opened her heart, her soul, and her body. He’d done the same in turn.
It was real, damn it.
“I don’t understand. There has to be a reason.” Nothing about this felt right. Maxim wouldn’t walk away without telling her good-bye. Not the Maxim she knew.
Madame Dubois’s words of warning came flooding back, washing over Finley in a sickening remembrance.
I think your Maxim Romanov is a fraud. Don’t be stupid. This isn’t a Russian fairy tale.
Finley shook her head, as if she could rattle the thought right out of her mind.
“Are you okay? You’re starting to scare me.” Scott eyed her with concern.
“I’m fine.” She wouldnothave a breakdown over a man she’d known only a matter of days. Even if those days had been the best she’d had in a long time. A very,verylong time.
And even if that man could potentially ruin her career.
“Tell me what he said.” She couldn’t walk into the gala tomorrow night wondering if Maxim was going to show up and make a claim under the Century Rule. A little warning would be nice. “I need to know.”
“?‘Tell her I’m sorry.’ That’s all he said. Then he handed me this.” Scott pulled a small box out of his back pocket.
Finley removed the lid, and her heart gave a little squeeze when she saw the familiar charms—the jewel-encrusted crowns and the tiny ruby egg.
Maxim had left her Anastasia’s bracelet.
Just as he had the last time he’d walked away.
