Page 73 of Split

The murmuring voices outside my door abruptly quiet, followed by the metallic grind of the doorknob turning. My breath catches and I flop back down against my pillow, rolling over and pressing my eyes closed to pretend I’m still asleep.

The hinges creak as the door swings open, followed by the familiar clip of dress shoes against the hardwood as someone steps inside and closes it behind them. A single set of footsteps crosses the room toward me, and a little rush of exhilaration has my breath hitching as I consider which twin is here to pay me a visit.

And to think I’d presumed life here at the manor was mundane.

The knowledge that there’s two of them brings an extra thrill to every encounter, my heart pounding harder as he nears the bed. His presence alone shifts the energy in the room, his powerful aura demanding my attention. It takes everything in me to resist giving it to him as I regulate my breathing and remain still.

He lets out a long, exhausted-sounding sigh as he comes to a halt beside my bed, then I hear the rustle of clothing as he undresses; feel the dip of the mattress as he climbs in next to me. The familiar scent of his aftershave tickles my nose as he slides in close beneath the covers, banding an arm firmly around my waist and pulling me tight against his chest.

Roman.

I know from the way he holds me– his movements purposeful, his hands firm. His grip is no less demanding than his brother’s, but it’s decidedly more controlled.

“I’m sorry, Eliza,” he mumbles under his breath, the tired exhale that follows ruffling the strands of my hair.

He must think I’m asleep. I’m tempted to continue pretending I am in the hopes he’ll confess what’s in that hollow, black heart of his. It’s easier for people to speak their truths when they think nobody’s listening.

Minutes pass, but sadly, he doesn’t utter another word. His exhaustion is evident, while I’m now wide awake, finally thinking more clearly than I have in days–weeks, even. And there are still lingering questions burning in the back of my mind.

Putting my well-honed acting skills to use again, I gently shift my weight with a soft groan, sliding a hand over his resting against my belly. “Roman,” I rasp sleepily.

His thumb moves beneath my hand, tracing circles against my skin. “How’d you know it was me?”

“I can tell you apart better than you might think,” I muse, still kicking myself for not figuring out the truth about the twins on my own. The subtle distinctions in them are so glaringly obvious to me now. I was on the right track with recognizing two distinct personalities, but I really should’ve put together that there were two ofthemall along.

I roll over to face him, the glow of the moon reflecting in his green eyes as I lift a hand and brush the backs of my knuckles over his cheek. “You’re the one who reads to me.”

“Yes,” he confirms.

“And the one who…spanksme?” I ask bashfully, a blush rising to my cheeks.

He dips his chin in a nod.

I blow out a breath, pushing up on my elbows and scooching back to rest against the headboard. “Why not just tell me from the beginning?” I question as I reach up to comb my fingers through my tangled hair.

“Because this was never part of the plan,” he murmurs, shifting to sit up beside me.

My brows pinch together as I turn my head his way. “What do you mean?”

He slowly turns to meet my eyes. “Both of us…being with you.”

“What?” I scoff. “It wasn’t like this with your last wife?”

He snorts a laugh, as if my assumption is absurd. “No. I never touched Alina. Knox had his fun with her, but he never formed a real attachment. He’s never formed an attachment to anyone other than me, until you.”

My heart stutters a beat and I almost smile, chewing on my lower lip to cover it. “You truly didn’t kill her?” I ask, even though I’m starting to trust that he didn’t.

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

He swipes a hand over his stubbled chin, brows drawing in. “My brother and I both showed up to dinner one night, about a week after the wedding,” he states. “She didn’t take it well when she realized Knox had been the one playing games with her. She was a strict religious type, said it made her an adulterer and this was a house of sin.” He rolls his eyes, stabbing his fingers through his hair. “She wasn’t fully stable before she arrived here, but that was what set her off. The following day, she threw a chair through the tower window and jumped.”

I wince, sucking in a breath through my teeth. “I’m sorry.”

He scrubs a hand over his face, as if the memory pains him. “We waited to tell you until we thought you were ready because we didn’t want another suicide on our hands,” he explains. “And as for why we didn’t tell you from the beginning, well, that was my brother’s call. He’s always been different. Volatile, quick to anger. My father suggested long ago that he’d be better suited to working behind the scenes, while I present as the face of our family in business. Not even all our associates know there’s twoof us. We’ve been playing this game our whole lives, so it felt natural to continue on as usual with you.”

He cups my chin, running the pad of his thumb over my lower lip. “We never intended to keep you, but circumstances have changed. You can continue plotting your escape, but know that if you do manage to get away, I’ll find you and bring you right back here.” He pauses, fingers tightening their hold as a possessive gleam ignites in his eyes. “Over and over again until you accept that you aremine.”

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