Split

Chapter 9

9

I t rains all damn day. And since I’m stuck inside with only Clara for company, I decide to finally explore the interior of the mansion since it still feels like a maze that I can’t quite figure out.

There are so many closed doors. I test the handles of each of them, finding that some are unlocked, and as I poke around the first floor of the house, I encounter some truly bizarre things. Like the ballroom– an actual ballroom , can you believe that?! It’s enormous, draped in black like the rest of the house and boasting a bar on each end. A beautifully painted mural of the night sky decorates the vaulted ceiling, and while I can’t imagine a room like this gets much use, the fact that it even exists in this place screams wealth and opulence in a way that I can’t even wrap my head around.

I grew up with money, but judging by this castle that I now call home, my husband is filthy rich. Every inch of this home’s interior has been updated or meticulously maintained, although I’d venture to guess that most of the rooms are rarely used.

Like the library– there’s literally a goddamn library full of books, two stories high with a balcony wrapping around the second level. I’ve never been a voracious reader, but with this many books at my disposal, I might have to start.

The adjacent study is just as gorgeous, lined with mahogany bookshelves and complete with a couple of cozy sofas set across from each other in front of a large stone fireplace. A scratching noise catches my attention, drawing my eyes toward a set of French doors where two very wet dogs are peering in at me through the glass, seeking entry. I light up when I see them, unable to keep the smile off my face as I wrestle with the lock and pull one of the doors open.

“Hi, babies!” I exclaim as they push inside, immediately dropping down to love up on them. They leave muddy pawprints on my leggings as they climb up to lick my face, seemingly just as excited to see me as I am, them.

“Were you guys cold out there in the rain, hmm?” I coo, scratching their ears as they compete for my attention.

I snap my head around at the sound of a throat clearing behind me, my eyes landing on Clara standing in the doorway to the study.

“Mr. Volkov doesn’t like the dogs to come in the house,” she says, giving me a pointed look.

I huff out a sigh, rising to my feet and spinning around to face her. “ Mister Volkov isn’t here right now, is he?” I challenge, folding my arms tightly over my chest as the dogs sniff around my feet. “I’m not sending them back out in the rain, that’s just inhumane.”

“They can go to the kennels if they want to keep dry,” Clara provides, but I just shake my head adamantly, dropping down into a crouch to give the twin shadows some more scratches underneath their collars.

“You boys will be good, won’t you?” I ask, earning a wet kiss on my cheek from Nox. I giggle, glancing back up at Clara. “See? They’ll be on their best behavior.”

She purses her lips, glaring at me with contempt, but I’m not about to back down on this. As sad as it is, the dogs are my only friends here. And if Roman doesn’t approve of them coming inside, I guess I’ll just have to deal with that later.

Clara turns on a heel with a huff, her Mary Janes clicking against the tile as she walks away.

I rise to my feet again, a surge of victory spearing through me. I may not be able to win a battle against my husband, but at least Clara will defer to me when he’s not around. I’m not completely powerless here.

“So, what should we do, boys?” I ask, looking down at Nox and Vesper. The latter yawns, stretching out and dropping to his tummy, evidently aiming to take a nap now that he’s someplace warm and dry.

I smile down at him, unable to resist stooping to give him one last pat before wandering over to the bookcases beside the fireplace and thumbing through the titles on the shelves.

Nox’s toenails clip against the marble floor as he follows me, sniffing around and scoping the place out. Even though they can’t talk back, it’s nice to have the dogs around for company. It feels a little less lonely in this house with their presence.

None of the books capture my interest, but the bookshelf itself does. As I’m running my hands along the wood from one shelf to the other, I notice that the seam between the shelves to the right of the fireplace doesn’t quite line up. I give it a little push, and to my surprise, it moves. Changing tact, I pull instead, sucking in a gasp when the whole shelf comes away from the wall to reveal a hidden doorway carved in the stone behind it. Wide steps beckon me down into the darkness, and I cast a wary glance at Nox, who’s sitting at my feet and looking to me expectantly.

“The first rule of every horror movie is to not go down into the dark, creepy basement, right?” I ask him, my pulse picking up speed.

Nox just cocks his head to the side, his stumpy tail wagging.

I blow out a breath, turning back toward the hidden staircase and squinting down into the darkness. “Just a peek can’t hurt, right?”

Slowly, I start forward, stepping through the doorway and descending the stairs with caution. It’s pitch black down here, but the light from above provides some illumination, my eyes adjusting to the dark as I continue down the steps.

When I reach the bottom, I realize that I’m in a tunnel of some sort. I can’t see very far ahead of me, but I can tell that it branches off in two directions, both of them looking equally dark and foreboding. It’s cold and damp down here, and the whole place just gives me the heebie jeebies, so I don’t stick around to find out where the tunnels lead. Instead, I turn around and rush back up the stairs like the chicken shit I am, swinging the bookcase back over the opening and slumping back against it as I pant to catch my breath.

Nox whines, tilting his head as he peers up at me.

“It’s scary down there,” I tell him, shuddering. “Let’s stick to places where we can see daylight, hm?”

He moves closer, nudging his head against my hand, and I reward him with more scratches behind his ear.

“Maybe we should look for the entrance to the tower instead, whaddya think?” I ask, and Nox’s responding tail wag says he likes that idea.

I’ve been thinking about that odd-looking tower at the far corner of the house ever since I saw it from outside. It would definitely give me a better vantage point to scope out the property, and it might even be high enough to give me a view of the nearest road out of here, which will be crucial if and when I make my escape.

I whistle for Vesper as I head out of the study with Nox trotting along at my heels, and the other dog pushes up to his feet with a grunt and follows.

We pass by the dining room on our way to the foyer, the double-doors propped open and the room sitting vacant. One glance inside launches a kaleidoscope of memories in my mind that I wish I could forget. Like the way Roman forced me to sit on his lap while he fed me. Or how he shoved me face-down onto the table, growling threats into my ear.

I have no doubt he’d act on them. He already did last night, when he crept into my bed and touched me against my will. What’s worse is that I’m honestly not sure which I’m angrier about– the way he forced himself on me, or the fact that he edged me within an inch of my life and then left me wanting. It’s all way too much to unpack right now, so I just shove that messy tangle of thoughts to the back of my mind, focusing instead on finding how to get up into the damn tower.

Vesper and Nox follow dutifully at my heels as I move into the foyer and begin climbing the stairs, following the split in the staircase to the left, like always. I’m still curious as hell about what Roman’s hiding in his wing of the house, but that’s an adventure for another day. Right now, it’s all about the tower– and since it’s technically in my wing, I should have free reign of it if I can discover how to get in.

Along my way down the hall, I peek inside the other rooms lining the west wing, finding nothing but guest suites. It’s actually a little disappointing, considering all the cool spaces I managed to discover downstairs. There’s no ballroom or library or secret passageway up here, just a series of empty bedrooms. Boring .

The final door at the end of the hallway leads into a small sitting room with an arched wooden door along the far wall, and I’m willing to bet that it’s the exact entrance I’ve been looking for. The dogs trot into the room and start sniffing around while I head straight for that door, turning the old iron knob and pushing hard to get it open.

The hinges creak in protest when it finally gives, a drafty chill hitting me in the face as it swings wide to reveal another creepy stone staircase behind it. This one’s circular, twisting upwards like the inside of a shell. I hiss out an excited “Yes!” as I step inside, blinking to adjust to the dim light filtering in through a stained-glass window halfway up the stairs. There’s no handrail, so I trail my fingers along the stone wall as I start climbing them, up and around until I finally come upon a matching arched door at the top, made of the same heavy old wood as the one below.

My heart momentarily sinks, but then I twist the knob to discover that this one is unlocked, too. Must be my lucky day. I throw my shoulder against it to push it open, and the hinges creak as it gives way to reveal a small, circular room.

There’s nothing inside it, but there is a window. Or at least there was . I can’t help but feel disappointed when I see it’s been boarded up, a chilly draft whistling in between the planks of wood.

The wood itself looks fresh, noticeably out of place in this room that feels like it’s from another time. I’d probably need a tool of some sort to try to pry a board off and look out from the window, but I approach it nonetheless to investigate whether any of the gaps between the boards are large enough to see through.

One of them is– just barely. I have to press up on my tiptoes to peek through, but it gives me a bird’s eye view of the estate below. I can see the perfectly clipped lawn, the roof of the garden shed, the hedges… I blink my eyes, heart pounding faster as I take in how far the hedges extend beyond the border of the lawn. They don’t just line the far side of the property– they twist and wind, forming what looks to be a maze.

The little click click click of the dogs’ nails against the floor draws my attention, and I turn to see them trotting toward me, tongues lolling out.

“What are you guys doing up here?” I laugh, stepping away from the window and bending down to greet them.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

I bolt upright at the sound of Roman’s voice, finding him standing in the doorway to the stairs, his large frame eating up the entire width of it.

I wasn’t expecting him back so soon. He’s usually gone all day when he leaves the house.

“What are you doing?” he demands, and my throat tightens in fear when I see the look in his eyes.

He looks mad.

Crazed.

Dangerous.

This is the side of him I fear; the one that’s terrifyingly unpredictable.

“I was just exploring,” I say shakily, backing up a step. I glance down at the dogs, both watching me with their heads cocked, as if the traitors didn’t just lead my monster right to me.

“You shouldn’t be up here,” Roman growls, advancing on me predatorily. I keep backing up, but his long strides bring him one step closer for every two of mine in retreat, until my back hits the stone wall and I’ve got nowhere else to go. He crowds me in, snatching up both my wrists in one large hand and yanking them up over my head, wrapping his other palm around my throat.

The dogs whine, but they don’t make any attempt to intervene. I suppose I don’t blame them. Roman looks completely unhinged, his chest rising and falling with his ragged breathing as he presses in tightly against me, bringing his face so close that the tips of our noses brush.

“Stay out of this tower,” he snarls, shoving a knee between my legs.

“B-but, this is my wing, isn’t it?” I stutter, searching for some passable excuse to calm the raging beast within my husband.

“Not this part of it.”

“Can you just give me a map with places I’m not allowed to go or something?” I huff, squirming against him in an effort to get free, the bones in my wrists grinding together painfully. “Because this is getting really confusing. I was only told to stay out of the east wing, not…”

He cuts me off by grabbing my chin, pinching my cheeks together harshly as he glowers at me. “Why do you insist on misbehaving?”

“I… I….” I babble dumbly, suddenly unable to form a coherent sentence. Probably in part due to how hard he’s pinching my cheeks together right now.

With his other hand, he suddenly releases my wrists, yanking one of my arms down and pressing my palm right against the firm bulge in the front of his pants. “Do you need to be fucked into submission?”

If I wasn’t at a loss for words before, I am now. His cock twitches against my palm, the sheer size of it making my throat tighten in intimidation. Roman’s arrogant, aloof demeanor oozes big dick energy, and now I know for sure he’s got the anatomy to back it up.

He finally lets go of my face, sliding his hand down to wrap around my throat once more. “I’ll bet you’ve been thinking about how good it’s going to feel when I rip through your virginity, haven’t you, pet?” he taunts, deviance flaring in his eyes as he flexes his grip around my throat, applying controlled pressure until he’s restricting my air slightly. “Remember what I said about pain and pleasure?”

I glare back at him, the way he calls me ‘pet’ making my skin crawl. I start struggling against him again in a feeble attempt to free myself from his clutches. He’s still holding my palm firmly against his erection, and I cringe as I feel it jump with excitement in response to my struggle. Then he suddenly releases my hand, and I snatch it away with a gasp of relief.

That relief is horribly short-lived.

With one hand still firmly wrapped around my throat, Roman drops his other to his belt, unfastening it with a metallic clink. A shudder runs through me at the sound of the teeth of his zipper separating as he drags it down, those penetrating green eyes still locked firmly on mine. “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” he asks gruffly, an edge of annoyance in his tone. He pauses freeing his cock to grab me roughly between the legs, and I suck in a sharp gasp as my body responds by sending a surge of heat straight to my core.

Roman begins rubbing his fingers back and forth against my clit as I mentally curse the thin fabric of my leggings and panties– and I’m honestly not sure if it’s because I hate that can feel so much through them, or because they’re a barrier to his touch that some part of me inexplicably craves.

“Virgins always scream so beautifully,” he muses to himself, tapping his fingers against my clit once more before he withdraws his hand, shoving it down the front of his boxer briefs to grip his cock.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not a virgin,” I rasp, my airway still partially restricted by his hold on my throat.

His brow lifts in surprise and he flinches back slightly, searching my eyes like he’s trying to spot my lie. “That’s not what your father said.”

“He probably also said I was obedient,” I snort, pressing my palms to his chest and trying to shove him back. He’s like a brick wall; hard and firm and immovable. “Let me go,” I grit out.

Roman calmly slides his hand out of his underwear, smirking as he leans in and darts out his tongue to lick a line up the column of my throat, ending just below my ear. He grabs me between the legs again as he nips my earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “ Never .”

But then he does– at least physically.

All at once, his hands release me, the heat of his body leaving mine as he takes a step backwards. Some twisted part of me aches at the loss of contact, keening for him to crowd me in close again, and I hate myself for it.

For most of my life, I’ve been isolated. Starved for touch. The way my body reacts to him– the erratic pounding of my heart, the breathlessness in my lungs, the heat pooling between my legs– is a purely biological response, nothing more.

My husband is a monster.

He zips his fly and refastens his belt, then adjusts his cuffs boredly, as if he didn’t just have me pinned against the wall while forcing me to touch his dick and threatening to rape me.

“Come.”

Both dogs perk up at his command, and the fact that I’m about to follow it like I’m one of them makes my stomach churn with nausea.

Roman turns on a heel, and I begrudgingly follow him out of the circular room at the top of the tower, down the spiral staircase, and back into the room below. When we emerge from the eerie stone stairwell, he closes the door tightly behind us, pausing to pull a brass key from his pocket and turn it in the lock. Then he just passes by me as if I’m not even here, whistling for the dogs to follow as he leaves the room.

This time, I don’t join them in obeying his command. I remain frozen in place, heart pounding, lungs aching in my struggle to catch my breath.

No matter what it takes, I have to escape this place.

I will escape.