Page 73 of Rogue

Maxence walked around the immense Louvre with Dree Clark, showing her the various statues and art. He sneaked glances at his phone.

Maria-Therese texted back that she had texted with Flicka, and Flicka had said in no uncertain terms that she was to be left alone. She wanted people toknowwhere she was, but she wanted tostaywhere she was.

Maxence was leaving in less than forty-eight hours to return to his other life on another continent anyway. Forgetting Flicka was impossible, but he needed to stop obsessing about her.

That hit home.

Maxence needed to stop obsessing about Flicka.

Beside him, Dree was hanging onto Max’s arm and staring at the Winged Victory of Samothrace, absolutely enraptured. “It’s so beautiful.”

He tilted her head up and kissed her on her lips, savoring the kiss of the woman who had chosen to be with him. “You’re beautiful.”

She batted her eyelashes. “Augustine, I declare, you will turn my head. It’s not good for me. Now, take me to see this Mona Lisa picture that everyone loses their minds over.”

They walked through the Louvre, and then Dree darted over to see something. When Maxence caught up to where he thought Dree was, she jumped out at him and squeaked, “Boo!”

Before long, they were running through the Louvre like kids, hopping out at each other and tapping each other’s shoulders from behind.

This was not dignified, responsible, or mature.

Maxence hadn’t had so much fun in decades, since he was in fifth grade, he thought, and he told her so.

Dree teetered ahead of him toward an exhibition hall that Max knew was a dead-end.

Max side-stepped into a niche to hide because she had to come back that way.

Maxence Grimaldi, the sober and serious one, was standing in a Saville Row suit that was far too conservative for his taste, waiting like Cary Grant inTo Catch A Thiefto leap out at an hourglass blonde who was trying to evade him.

The reference to that particular movie amused him. He’d seen it dozens of times because he watched it when he was homesick. His grandmother was in it.

Dree tried to tiptoe past him, and he popped out of his hiding place and caught her around her waist, dragging her against his chest and kissing her. She was laughing too much for a proper kiss, so he let her go. She careened off through the exhibits.

She was having fun being chased, so Maxence strolled when she wasn’t looking, letting her outpace him for a while.

When he caught her again, Dree laughed at him. “In my job, which I can’t tell you, I constantly have to beon.There’s no playing around. There’s no silliness. You walk in, and everything you do has consequences from the first second you set foot in the—place. Running around like a lunatic with you was exactly what I needed.”

They did that some more, dashing among the galleries while being very careful not to jostle any of the exhibits or leave fingerprints on the glass cases.

They ended up in the gigantic room that was the Mona Lisa exhibit, where on regular days, hordes of people shuffled past it in a giant line that meandered around the room.

Maxence and Dree stood, hands folded, in front of Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece.

Dree leaned toward Max and whispered, “It’s really small.”

“It is,” he agreed.

“What’s so special about it?”

“The painting is flawless,” Max told her. “There are no brushstrokes.”

“Okay,” she said. “Have we admired it enough?”

“I think so.”

“Tag!You’re it!” She scooted out of the room, mincing on her high-heeled shoes.

She sprinted on her toes like Marilyn Monroe, all succulent rounds of feminine curves bobbling cheerfully. Maxence was thoroughly enjoying himself chasing her slowly so he almost never caught her, and thus the game would not end.