Page 22 of Split

“Oh.” I drop my gaze to my plate, shoulders slumping in disappointment. I don’t recall anyone who worked with my father called Niko.

“In any event, you don’t need to concern yourself with my business dealings,” he adds, shooting me a pointed look before returning to his dinner.

I force myself to eat a bit more of my own, gulping down the second glass of wine as the two of us dine in silence. Thoughthere’s still a thick tension in the air and a sense of uneasiness hanging over me, the wine helps me relax a little. Enough to broach the topic of our run-in today up in the tower.

I set my wine glass back down in front of me, tracing my fingertip along the rim as I gaze over at him. “Roman, about earlier…”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” he says in a clipped tone, not even glancing up from his plate.

“I just think it’d be helpful if I knew where I can and can’t go. If I don’t know the rules, I can’t know whether or not I’m breaking them.”

He sighs, pushing back in his chair and wiping his mouth with his napkin. Then he turns to look at me, those intense green eyes meeting my own. “You’re not a prisoner here, Eliza. You have free reign of the property. The east wing, the tower, and my office on this level are off-limits to you. You’re free to wander anywhere else you’d like. I’d rather you not venture into the woods surrounding the property, but if you insist on doing so, take the dogs with you for protection.”

I stare at him dumbly.

“Speaking of the dogs, I believe I already said no table scraps, and I’d prefer they stay outdoors,” he continues. “If you do insist on bringing them inside, try to be more thoughtful about the state of their paws. Clara spent half the afternoon cleaning muddy prints off the floors.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” I agree, nodding emphatically. “Anything else?”

“Eat your food.”

I slouch back in my chair, glaring down at my plate. “But I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t care. You’re far too thin, and I won’t have my business associates thinking I’ve been neglecting your basic needs.”

I dart a scowl in his direction. “Maybe I just have a fast metabolism.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how little you eat.”

My cheeks burn and I quickly look away, gritting my teeth.

So hehasbeen watching me. I’d perceived his cold detachment toward me as indifference, but the fact that he’s been paying attention is somewhat alarming. It means I’ll need to be more careful with the plans I’m making so he doesn’t pick up on my intentions.

Play along.

Begrudgingly, I lift my fork, not casting my husband another glance as I force myself to finish my dinner. Though his own plate is clean, he lingers in the room until I fork the last bite into my mouth, at which point he abruptly pushes out his chair and rises to stand.

He leaves the dining room without a word.

11

Iwake with a start. My bedroom is shrouded in darkness, shadows clinging to the corners and eating up the space beyond my bed, but Ifeelsomeone there. I dart a glance toward the door to find that it’s closed, the chair I pushed in front of it still in place with the chairback tucked beneath the handle. By every indication, nobody has entered, but I swear I can sense someone else’s presence in here with me.

I hold my breath, straining my ears to listen for any sound. The silence is deafening, but then there’s a creak of the floorboards, a flicker of movement in the shadows.

I dive beneath the covers, pulling them up over my face.

Nobody’s there. This isn’t real. Maybe I’m dreaming.

My heart races, my breath coming out in short, ragged pants.

Nobody’s there. Just go back to sleep, Eliza.

I regulate my breathing and slowly, my pulse calms. Some of the tension drains from my muscles. I lower the covers from my face, peering into the darkness again.

There’s nothing there.

The next morning begins much like every other one has since I moved into the devil’s mansion. I’m woken by the sound of a key scraping in the door lock, followed by Clara grumbling under her breath in annoyance as she struggles to push it open. The legs of the chair I placed in front of the door screech against the hardwood floor as it swings wide, Clara casting an irritated glance toward the offending piece of furniture as she enters with my breakfast tray.

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