Page 16 of Split

“Aw, they just need some love,” I say, stooping over to give each of them another scratch. “I met Noxy yesterday, but do you know this one’s name?”

“Vesper.”

“Aw, what a handsome name!”

The dog slurps his tongue out to lick my hand, as if he appreciates the compliment. I love up on both of them a little more, then rise to stand again, finding the old man still watching me thoughtfully.

“So, you must be the new Mrs. Volkov,” he remarks as the dogs sniff the ground around my feet before becoming disinterested and trotting off.

“Guess so. And you are?”

“Lev,” he replies, sticking out a weathered hand. “The groundskeeper.”

I step forward, placing my palm in his. “Nice to meet you, Lev. I can’t tell you how nice it is to hold a decent conversation with someone around here.”

He cups his other hand over mine, eyes twinkling with amusement as he leans in. “Old Clara giving you a hard time?”

The corner of my mouth ticks up. “How’d you guess?”

He smirks, releasing my hand with another throaty chuckle. “Eh, she’s just protective over the family. She’s been with them since she was your age.”

“Wow, really?”

He nods, the skin around his eyes crinkling with his smile. “Yes, ma’am. She used to work for Magnus. When he built his new place and moved out a decade ago, she stayed here rather than going with him. She’s always had a soft spot for Roman.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” I snort. “And what about you?”

“Oh, I’ve been here just as long,” he says with a wistful sigh. “We’re a loyal bunch, I suppose.”

I roll my lower lip between my teeth, my curiosity running away with me. “Did you know the last Mrs. Volkov, then?” I venture.

“I did,” he replies slowly.

“What happened to her?”

“Eh, that’s not something we talk about around here,” he mutters, giving me the brush-off. “Wouldn’t want to upset Mr. Volkov.”

I furrow my brow, narrowing my eyes on the aged groundskeeper. “Why would it upset him? Did something bad happen?”

Lev’s gaze lifts over my shoulder. “I have a feeling something bad’s about to,” he says with a wince.

I turn to follow his line of sight, finding Clara storming across the lawn toward me, her expression pinched in a scowl.

“Mr. Volkov wants to see you right away,” she says in a clipped tone, beckoning me with the impatient wave of a hand.

My stomach drops, pulse taking off at a gallop.

“Did he say what he wanted?” I ask warily, following her around to the front of the house.

She doesn’t respond, but as soon as I see him, I know– because he’s stooped over with a handkerchief in hand, cleaning off his shoe.

A wave of déjà vu hits and I stop in my tracks, staring in horror as he straightens to his full height and his green eyes lock with mine.

Clara scurries into the house while I stand there frozen, rooted to the spot as Roman storms in my direction.

“You fed my dog again.” The low, dangerous octave of his voice makes my heart race faster as I feel the color drain from my face.

“N-no, I didn’t,” I stammer, retreating a step as he closes in. “He must still be sick from yesterday.”

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