Page 36 of Split

“Wait!” I call, prompting her to stop and swivel back around. “What things?”

“The things from your list,” she replies curtly.

A spark of excitement ignites in my chest, my eyes widening in stunned surprise. When Roman told me the other night that he’d follow up with Clara about my list, I didn’t expect him to actually come through. Part of me didn’t believe him when he said he hadn’t received it.

I let out an embarrassing squeal of delight as I spin around and rush toward the stairs, bounding up them to head for the west wing.

The door to my bedroom is standing ajar when I reach it, shoving inside and eagerly glancing around the interior. Spotting several boxes on my bed, I dart toward them with spring in my step, anxious to get my hands on a little piece of home. The closer I get, though, the more my elation starts to fizzle out– because the things on the bedaren’tthe ones from my list.

My lips turn down in a frown as I approach the edge, my stomach sinking like a stone. A brand new phone and laptop are resting atop the plush white duvet, still sealed in their boxes, and the shopping bag beside them contains a black leather Givenchy bag with the price tags still attached. Technically, it’s what I asked for, but I distinctly remember writing the word ‘my’ before each item.

I spin back around with an annoyed grunt, leaving the gifts behind and stomping back out into the hall. My angry footsteps echo through the corridor as I make my way to the stairs, descending them and marching through the darkened hallways of the manor toward Roman’s office. I’m still not in the mood to argue with my husband today, but that’s exactly what’s about to happen.

The door to his office is slightly ajar, and I kick a foot out to push it open with the toe of my adorable suede boot, rapping my knuckles against the wooden doorframe to announce my presence.

“What do you want?” Roman sighs, not even bothering to look up from the paperwork on his desk.

“The things on my list, for starters,” I quip, advancing into the room with a purposeful stride.

He slowly lifts his head to meet my gaze as I come to a stop on the opposite side of his desk, his brow furrowing. “Did Clara not bring them up today?” he asks. “I specifically told her…”

“No, I found them,” I huff.

“Then this is certainly a strange expression of gratitude.”

I ball my hands into fists at my sides, my fingernails digging crescents into my palms. “I didn’t wantnewthings,” I grit out, glaring daggers at him. “I wantedmine.”

He blows out an annoyed breath, reclining back in his leather chair and folding his hands over his abs. “What’s the difference?” he asks. “Don’t tell me you had an emotional attachment to your electronics.”

“The bag,” I clarify.

Roman arches a dark brow. “Did you want a different style?”

“No, I wantmybag,” I snap. “It was…” I trail off, hesitant to show him any hint of vulnerability. It’s the only way I’ll get what I’m after, though, so I swallow thickly before grumbling, “It was my mom’s.”

“I see,” he replies calmly.

“So can you get it for me?” I ask, hating how desperate I sound. “Or I could go…”

“Now isn’t the right time,” he interrupts tersely.

“What do you mean?”

He stares back at me for a long moment, swiping a hand over his chin as if contemplating his response. “Business relations are… tense at the moment,” he mutters.

“Why? Aren’t you allied with my father?” I scowl, folding my arms tightly across my chest. “Wasn’t that the whole point of this sham of a marriage?”

Roman heaves a sigh, waving a hand dismissively. “This world is more nuanced than that, Eliza.”

A fresh wave of anger and indignation rushes to the surface, but when I open my mouth to respond, I startle at the sound of a throat clearing behind me. Whipping my head around, I find Niko standing in the doorway of Roman’s office, his blue-eyed gaze fixed on my husband.

“Hey boss, got a sec?” he asks.

Roman grunts in the affirmative, waving him inside.So I guess our conversation is over.

I should take that as my cue to leave, but I’m far too worked up and stubborn for my own good. I narrow my eyes on Roman, staring him down as I hear Niko enter the room behind me.

“I’m sure you remember my wife,” Roman murmurs, gesturing blandly in my direction.

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