Split

Chapter 5

5

I tug the sleeves of my sweater down over my hands, a chill settling in my bones as I glance up at the crumbling stone facade of the castle-like structure of my new home. I have to admit, the ghoulish appearance of this house suits my new husband’s demeanor like a glove. As scary and imposing as I thought this mansion was when we first pulled up to it yesterday, it’s not nearly as terrifying as the man himself.

Part of me is surprised that I wasn’t tackled on my way out the front door and forced back inside. Then again, the only place I’ve been expressly forbidden from entering is Roman’s wing of the house. Nobody has said anything about going outside, so I may as well take my chances and try to get a handle on the layout of the property while I can. High risk, high reward, right?

Much like the interior of the home, it’s eerily quiet out here, too. There’s no sign of the aged groundskeeper I saw yesterday pruning the hedges, and the dog I spotted from the balcony earlier doesn’t appear to have stuck around, either. Even the birds seem to have fled the trees, off singing their songs somewhere else. Probably someplace where the air isn’t so damn suffocating.

Treading a path across the lawn, I make my way around the west side of the manor, aiming to identify the balcony connected to my bedroom. I find it easily enough since it appears to be the only one on the second floor of the west wing, but before I can go about scouting potential footholds in the stone to get from the balcony down to the ground level, a blur of motion across the lawn catches my attention.

The dog!

“Here, boy!” I call eagerly, crouching down and making kissy noises in an effort to entice the animal closer.

He freezes, turning his head in my direction and staring me down.

Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The dog suddenly looks a whole lot bigger than he did from the vantage point of my balcony– and a whole lot meaner, too. His body is thick and muscular, the tan markings around his face standing out in contrast to the rest of his black fur. I think he’s a Rottweiler or some other similarly intimidating breed.

Before I have a chance to rethink my approach, the dog comes running toward me at a dead sprint, eating up the distance between us in a matter of seconds. He skids to a stop mere inches away, his lips pulling back from his teeth in a snarl as he eyes me warily.

“Hi, boy,” I say sweetly, boldly extending a hand for him to sniff. “Look how pretty you are! Such a handsome fella…”

The dog moves closer, nose twitching as he sniffs the tips of my fingers.

“I’m not scary, see?” I sing-song, slowly retracting my hand. Then I reach down into the pocket of my sweater, brandishing the muffin from breakfast and holding it out to him. “How about a special treat for a special boy?”

He wags his cropped tail, booty shaking as he scarfs down the entire thing in a single bite.

“Wow, you liked that, huh?” I laugh, reaching up to stroke the top of his head and scratch behind his ear. He tips his head to give me better access, and I bring up my other hand to scratch his neck beneath his thick leather collar, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

“There’s more where that came from,” I tell the dog as I continue loving up on him. He may look mean, but he’s surprisingly docile, licking my hands and leaning into my touch. Maybe he’s as starved for positive human interaction as I am. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy?” I praise, grinning broadly as I lavish him with attention.

“How’d you get him to come to you?”

I jolt to my feet with a start at the sound of Roman’s deep voice, whipping around to see him standing on the lawn a few feet away. He’s dressed in a crisp charcoal gray suit, inky black hair perfectly coiffed and green eyes intently trained on me. While the glimmer of malice I saw in them last night isn’t present, I’ve still got my guard up, subconsciously slinking back a step.

Roman snaps his fingers at his side and the dog trots over to him, sitting at his heel and looking up at his master obediently. He pats its head, and my gut twists at the reminder of how this man handled me like a pet night at dinner last night, bile crawling up my throat.

When I lift my gaze, I find that Roman’s still looking to me expectantly, awaiting my answer.

“I didn’t do anything, just gave him some love,” I mumble, subtly retreating another step. While he hasn’t made any move to come closer, I can’t help but be wary of his proximity.

“Hm,” Roman muses, giving the dog’s head another pat. “He doesn’t typically take to strangers.”

I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “Funny, we have that in common,” I murmur.

I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch up in the ghost of a smirk, but just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone, replaced with his usual blank expression.

“What’s his name?” I ask, crouching down again and patting my knee.

The dog trots over to me happily, eager for more pets.

“Nox,” Roman replies as he watches our interaction intently.

“Aww, what a handsome name,” I coo, looking into Nox’s brown eyes as I massage his scruff with my fingertips. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you Noxy?” I giggle as he licks my face to show his appreciation.

Roman snaps his fingers at his side again, the dog immediately leaving me to return to him obediently. I push up to my feet with a sigh, irritated at his flex of control over Nox. If he’s trying to prove a point, then he’s succeeded.

My husband stares at me and I stare right back in defiance, refusing to cower to him– that is, until the dog at Roman’s heel suddenly makes a loud retching sound.

He jumps back, but not before Nox vomits a goopy pile of blueberry muffin all over his shoe.

I look on in a mix of shock and horror as Roman curses, lifting his foot to flick the puke off his shoe. Nox slinks back, still looking a little green, and my husband jerks his head up, an accusatory glare aimed squarely at me.

“Did you feed my dog?”

“N-no,” I stammer dumbly.

His jaw tenses, hands balling into fists at his sides and alarm bells sounding in my head. My muscles tense, body coiling up like a spring in preparation to take off running, but he doesn’t move toward me. He just takes a deep breath, then blows it out slowly with a shake of his head.

“Did you feed my dog?” he repeats, his voice a low, eerie monotone.

I just stand there like a mute, clasping my trembling hands in front of me.

Roman heaves a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face and looking down at the poor dog. He snaps his fingers twice and Nox runs off, then he lifts his gaze to me once more.

I swallow hard, bracing myself for impact.

“My dogs have champion bloodlines,” he states calmly. “In order to stay in top physical form, they ascribe to a strict diet. Do not feed them table scraps. Understood?”

I was expecting him to snap off or get physical with me like last night, but his cool, aloof demeanor throws me for a loop, his unpredictability making my anxiety pique. I nod my head numbly, wringing my hands. “I understand.”

“Good,” he quips, picking a piece of lint off his sleeve. “Now, for the real reason I came out here to find you. I’m having dinner with an associate tonight. You’ll be joining me.”

“What?” I blurt, eyes going wide. “No.”

He arches a dark brow. “Excuse me?”

Any sense of self-preservation I have flies out the window at the prospect of enduring another dinner as Roman’s pet. “I won’t sit on your lap and let you feed me in front of your friends,” I rush out, shaking my head adamantly. “Last night was bad enough, but I won’t be humiliated in front of other people for your amusement, I refuse…”

“That won’t be happening,” he deadpans, cutting me off. “As long as you don’t embarrass me, I won’t even touch you. All you have to do tonight is sit there and look pretty. Think you can manage that?”

I eye him warily, struggling to detect the lie buried beneath his words. “I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t have to,” he snaps, looking annoyed. “We’ll leave at eight. I’ve asked Clara to ensure you dress appropriately.”

Without another word, Roman abruptly turns away, striding across the lawn as his declaration settles over me.

Did he just say…?

“Leave?” I call after him curiously. “Where are we going?”

He doesn’t answer. And while I watch him walk away, the knot of anxiety in my belly only tightens further as I’m left to wonder what fresh hell awaits me tonight.