Page 56 of Split

I heave a sigh, shaking my head. “People grieve differently, I guess. And they take out that grief in different ways.”

“Your father took his out on you,” Roman states, not posing it as a question because he clearly already knows the answer. It’s obvious that there’s no love lost between my father and I, considering how he traded me off to Roman without batting an eye.

I jerk a nod. “Like I said, he changed.”

Roman narrows his eyes, studying me for a long moment. “He hurt you.”Again, not a question.

I gnaw on my lower lip, wondering how him bringing me the Givenchy led tothis; a rare honest conversation with my husband that I suddenly have no interest in having. As important as that bag is to me, him procuring it doesn’t make up for his assault in the study. It doesn’t make up for the weeks of abuse I’ve endured at his hands.

“Eliza...”

“Thank you for the bag, Roman,” I bite out, my guard slamming back up. He’s fooled me before with tender moments, but they don’t make him any less of a monster. They don’t change my plans for escaping him. “As you can tell, it means a great deal to me, so I’m grateful that you brought it. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a harsh swallow in response to my dismissive tone, lips turning down in a frown. I watch him intently, my pulse picking up speed at the prospect of seeing him switch to his alter ego right before my eyes. The book said there might be a physical sign, like a flinch or a prolonged blink.Mr. Hyde loves when I sass him.

Evidently he'’ not coming out to play, though. I’m not sure if it’s disappointment or relief that I feel when Roman dips his chin in a nod and pushes up to his feet, muttering, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

I press my lips together in a tight line, watching after him as he strides for the door. He steps through and closes it behind him without so much as a backwards glance, and I reach for the book I’d been reading and jump right back into my research project, smiling fondly every time my eyes land on the Givenchy tucked in my lap.

25

It isn’t often that Roman’s work stretches into the late hours of the evening. He was still in his office with Niko when I went upstairs to get ready for dinner, and upon coming down, Clara told me that our meal would be postponed until the men were finished. It’s probably too much to hope that Niko will be asked to stay and dine with us, but I definitely wouldn’t mind having somenicedinner conversation for a change.

The chime of the grandfather clock indicates that I’ve been lurking in the study for half an hour now, and I’m starting to get antsy. For a fleeting second, I actually consider trying my luck at spying again. The click of my heels against the floor would be a dead giveaway, though, so I quickly dismiss that notion and instead pour myself a glass of vodka to nurse while I wait.

It goes down a little too smooth, so I have a second. Then I hear the distinct sound of the office door opening down the hall, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching.

Niko strides into the study, his steps pausing when he notices me hovering by the bar cart.

“Good evening, Mrs. Volkov,” he greets with a smile, his eyes wandering down my form in a quick once-over. “You look nice.”

I suppose this is probably the first time he’s seen me dressed up. Clara neglected to inform me of the color I’m meant to wear for dinner tonight, but I’m instantly grateful I chose this little black cocktail dress that shows off my body when Niko’s heated gaze drops again to admire it, as if he can’t resist going in for a second peek.

“Thanks, you don’t look half bad yourself,” I reply as I appraise him, a blush rising to my cheeks. “Are you boys all done working?”

“We are, your husband’s just finishing up on a call,” Niko answers, stepping toward me as I begin gravitating in his direction. “Sorry for keeping you from dinner.”

I wave a hand dismissively. “No trouble, I’m not even that hungry. Had a big lunch.”

It’s not even a lie; I ate every bite of the stroganoff Clara prepared. If she keeps making my favorites like she has been lately, I’m going to have trouble suppressing my appetite.

“Well then maybe I should apologize to your husband for keeping him fromyou,” Niko muses, the corner of his mouth lifting in a playful smirk.

“He manages that just fine on his own,” I mumble.

Niko shrugs a shoulder. “He’s a busy man.”

“Too busy for his wife, it seems,” I sigh, the vodka coursing through my bloodstream loosening my lips. The taste of it is still on them when I wet them with my tongue, my heels clicking against the marble tile underfoot as I bridge the remaining distance between us. Niko’s posture stiffens as I reach up to brush my fingertips along the lapel of his suit, peering up at him demurely through my lashes and whispering, “If only someone could whisk me away…”

Rather than taking the bait like I hope he will, Niko flinches away from my touch, his pale blue eyes widening in alarm. “Areyou trying to get us both killed?” he hisses under his breath, his panicked gaze darting past me, back and forth.

Shit, he’s afraid of my husband, too.

In an act of sheer desperation, I step in close again, reaching for his hand and clutching it tightly in both of mine. “Please, Niko,” I rasp, staring up at him pleadingly. “I’ll do anything you want if you help me get out of here.Anything.”

He yanks his hand away as if he’s been burned, showing me his palms as he backs away. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Volkov, but you’ve got the wrong idea here. My loyalty is to your husband.”

“Right answer.”

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