Page 17 of Split

Roman grinds to a halt in front of me, jaw tightly clenched and fists balled at his sides. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t barge in my room in the middle of the night,” I fire back.

Something flickers in his emerald eyes, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Lock your door.”

“Funny, locked doors only work if the other person doesn’t have a key,” I scoff, folding my arms tightly over my chest.

A silence falls over us as we stand there staring at one another, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The look in his eyes is unnerving, but again, it isn’t that wild, unhinged mania from the first night. Instead, it’s the eerie calm– which I’m beginning to find even more frightening.

After a long moment, Roman wets his lips with his tongue, parting them to speak.

“Remember your place,wife,” he snarls, his upper lip curling back from his teeth and the threat in his tone obvious.

“How could I forget, with your constant reminders?” I mutter.

He cuts me a final glare before turning around and storming off, bound for the black town car parked in the circle drive.

I glare daggers into his back, wishing I had a real one to throw right about now.

“Better come inside, ma’am,” Clara says, poking her head out the front door and gazing up at the sky. “It looks like rain.”

9

It rains all damn day. And since I’m stuck inside with only Clara for company, I decide to finally explore the interior of the mansion since it still feels like a maze that I can’t quite figure out.

There are so many closed doors. I test the handles of each of them, finding that some are unlocked, and as I poke around the first floor of the house, I encounter some truly bizarre things. Like the ballroom– an actualballroom, can you believe that?! It’s enormous, draped in black like the rest of the house and boasting a bar on each end. A beautifully painted mural of the night sky decorates the vaulted ceiling, and while I can’t imagine a room like this gets much use, the fact that it even exists in this place screams wealth and opulence in a way that I can’t even wrap my head around.

I grew up with money, but judging by this castle that I now call home, my husband isfilthyrich. Every inch of this home’s interior has been updated or meticulously maintained, although I’d venture to guess that most of the rooms are rarely used.

Like the library– there’s literally a goddamn library full of books, two stories high with a balcony wrapping around thesecond level. I’ve never been a voracious reader, but with this many books at my disposal, I might have to start.

The adjacent study is just as gorgeous, lined with mahogany bookshelves and complete with a couple of cozy sofas set across from each other in front of a large stone fireplace. A scratching noise catches my attention, drawing my eyes toward a set of French doors where two very wet dogs are peering in at me through the glass, seeking entry. I light up when I see them, unable to keep the smile off my face as I wrestle with the lock and pull one of the doors open.

“Hi, babies!” I exclaim as they push inside, immediately dropping down to love up on them. They leave muddy pawprints on my leggings as they climb up to lick my face, seemingly just as excited to see me as I am, them.

“Were you guys cold out there in the rain, hmm?” I coo, scratching their ears as they compete for my attention.

I snap my head around at the sound of a throat clearing behind me, my eyes landing on Clara standing in the doorway to the study.

“Mr. Volkov doesn’t like the dogs to come in the house,” she says, giving me a pointed look.

I huff out a sigh, rising to my feet and spinning around to face her. “MisterVolkov isn’t here right now, is he?” I challenge, folding my arms tightly over my chest as the dogs sniff around my feet. “I’m not sending them back out in the rain, that’s just inhumane.”

“They can go to the kennels if they want to keep dry,” Clara provides, but I just shake my head adamantly, dropping down into a crouch to give the twin shadows some more scratches underneath their collars.

“You boys will be good, won’t you?” I ask, earning a wet kiss on my cheek from Nox. I giggle, glancing back up at Clara. “See? They’ll be on their best behavior.”

She purses her lips, glaring at me with contempt, but I’m not about to back down on this. As sad as it is, the dogs are my only friends here. And if Roman doesn’t approve of them coming inside, I guess I’ll just have to deal with that later.

Clara turns on a heel with a huff, her Mary Janes clicking against the tile as she walks away.

I rise to my feet again, a surge of victory spearing through me. I may not be able to win a battle against my husband, but at least Clara will defer to me when he’s not around. I’m not completely powerless here.

“So, what should we do, boys?” I ask, looking down at Nox and Vesper. The latter yawns, stretching out and dropping to his tummy, evidently aiming to take a nap now that he’s someplace warm and dry.

I smile down at him, unable to resist stooping to give him one last pat before wandering over to the bookcases beside the fireplace and thumbing through the titles on the shelves.

Nox’s toenails clip against the marble floor as he follows me, sniffing around and scoping the place out. Even though they can’t talk back, it’s nice to have the dogs around for company. It feels a little less lonely in this house with their presence.

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