Page 48 of Split

My pulse skips and I avert my gaze, an unwitting blush rising to my cheeks. It’s fucked up to take his reassertion of ownership over me as a compliment, but I do, and in turn I foolishly drop my guard.

“I think my father truly loved my mother,” I say, picking at the scabs on my heart. “He was different before the accident. Kinder. After, he couldn’t bear to look at anything that reminded him of her, so he packed it all away. Her art, her things, even our family pictures… as if it was easier for him to just pretend she never existed at all than to acknowledge she was gone. Unfortunately, I was the only reminder he couldn’t get rid of.”

I glance up at Roman again, my lips curving in a brittle smile. “Until now, of course, when it benefitted him,” I bite out. “I’ve heard he’s always had impeccable business acumen.”

“He seems to think so,” my husband muses. “Though in my experience, confidence often begets carelessness.”

I wrinkle my nose, squinting at him. “Meaning?”

His demeanor shifts on a dime, his expression shuttering as he blows out an irritated breath. “Nothing for you to be concerned about,wife,” he replies dismissively, tapping my butt in a signal for me to rise from his lap.

Frustration simmers beneath my veins as I push up to my feet, hating that I allowed him to trick me into being vulnerable again while getting nothing from him in return. His wickedly handsome features are schooled in a stoic mask as he plucks both books up off the sofa and rises to stand across from me, tucking his novel under an arm and extending the poetry book in my direction.

“You’re right,” I rasp bitterly, glancing down at the cover, then back up at him. “Love has no place in this world.”

I pivot on a heel and march out of the study, leaving Roman, the book of sappy love poems, and the hope of this marriage being anything but a farce behind.

21

Whoever said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks never trapped that bitch at Volkov manor. It’s amazing how many skills you can acquire when your very survival depends on it. I’ve already earned my acting chops, and now I’m adding espionage to my resume. My husband clearly has no intentions of opening up to me and sharing his secrets, so naturally, I’ve resorted to spying on him instead.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve passed by his office today. Back and forth, I’ve come up with mundane excuses to traverse the corridor, listening intently for voices from inside on each pass.

Something about a business deal in Chicago.

Another problem with some sort of shipment and seeking help from The Five.

A decades-old forgery in a death certificate.

The thick wool socks I’m wearing mute my pacing steps against the dark marble flooring, and I’ve dared to pause outside the door to listen in on a few of his conversations. Lucky for me, he has a habit of taking his calls on speaker. Nothing I’ve overheard thus far is particularly useful on its own, but the moreI pick up on, the more ammo I’ll have in my arsenal once I’m able to piece it all together.

Roman’s office has been suspiciously quiet during my last three trips past the door. I briefly consider that he’s caught onto my game, but I risk another pass nonetheless, not content to give up on my quest for information to leverage. It’s a good thing I do– not only is my husband on another call as I creep past his office, but I actually recognize the voice on the other end.

“And you’re sure you want to pursue this?” Magnus’ distinctly gruff voice questions. “If there’s truth in it, there will be dire consequences for all involved, including your new wife. The power vacuum it would create…”

“I’m aware, father,” Roman interrupts sharply. “Which is why I’ll continue to remain two steps ahead.”

Goosebumps prickle up on my skin at his harsh tone, apprehension curling in my gut at the mention ofme.I have no idea what Roman’s up to, but it sounds dangerous.It sounds like exactly the kind of collateral I’ve been searching for.

“Then I’ll see you both tonight,” Magnus states.

“We’ll be there,” Roman replies curtly.

My pulse picks up speed, excitement rippling through me at the prospect of getting off the estate for the evening. He hasn’t taken me anywhere since that business dinner with Anton weeks ago, and I was so preoccupied with loathing my new husband at the time that I didn’t bother paying any attention to what the men discussed. Wherever we’re going tonight, I’ll be listening to and soaking in every detail.

So many thoughts are racing through my mind that I don’t even realize Roman has ended the call– not until I hear the clip of his shoes against the floor approaching the opposite side of the door. I immediately spin around and scurry off down the corridor, my heart in my throat.

“Nox!” Roman calls out as the office door bursts open.

My stomach swoops, socks sliding against the slick marble underfoot as I skid to a stop. I let the dogs back outside an hour ago– they tend to follow me around when they’re in the house, and the tap of their toenails against the floor wasn’t conducive to my stealthy spying– but before I did, there were a few times they wandered off on their own. One of which I distinctly remember Roman shooing them out of his office.

There are very few things I’ll put myself in the direct line of fire for, but the dogs are at the top of that list.

I spin back around and brace myself as Roman storms out into the hall, prepared to endure his wrath if it means sparing my furry companions. Odds are fifty-fifty as to whether it’s an act of bravery or blind stupidity.Probably the latter.

My husband stops in his tracks when our eyes meet, the subtle lift of his brows betraying his surprise at finding me lurking outside his office. “Eliza,” he breathes, quickly schooling his expression back into a blank, impenetrable mask. “Don’t you typically spend your afternoons in the garden?”

Sohe’sbeen spying onme, too.

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