Chapter 3

Tracey Cox's two lovely eyebrows knit together, and her pretty, almond-shaped eyes were full of anger.

The moment she opened her mouth, it was to interrogate me: "Allan Dudley, Paddy was just borrowing your clothes, why do you have to give him such a hard time?"

Thank goodness. I'd actually thought Tracey was angry because I didn't care about this pretty face.

After all, even when we were fighting our worst and I smashed the whole house to pieces, I never had the heart to lay a finger on this pretty face.

I breathed a sigh of relief and said to Tracey, "I'm not giving Paddy a hard time. My walk-in closet is always open to him—he can take whatever he likes."

Tracey's expression turned even uglier. She clenched her jaw, then suddenly strode over to Paddy, took his hand, and said to me viciously, "Allan Dudley, do you think anyone wants your things? Paddy got hurt for me. Of course I'll give him the best!"

With that, she told the driver to bring the car around, and on the way she contacted the sales associates at all the major luxury boutiques.

I wasn't the least bit surprised.

To have stayed married to Tracey this long, we did have quite a few things in common.

For instance, we both loved dressing up the people we cared about.

We used to dress each other up; now I dress up Priscilla, and she dresses up Paddy.

Seeing that I stayed unmoved, Tracey got even angrier.

She gripped Paddy's hand and turned to leave, completely oblivious to the fact that Paddy couldn't keep up with her and stumbled several times.

I didn't have the attention to spare for her, either. I turned back, took Priscilla's hand, and asked, "Are you hungry?"

Priscilla shook her head.

I looked at her and started to speak, then stopped.

I had so many questions I wanted to ask Priscilla, but I didn't know how to begin.

I was afraid of dredging up her painful memories, and afraid, too, that she wouldn't want to tell me anything.

Maybe everyone gets this nervous and sensitive in front of the person they love.

As if she'd read my thoughts, Priscilla, who had followed silently behind me all day, spoke up on her own.

In a hoarse voice she called out, "Big brother, I'm thirsty."

Priscilla really was younger than me, but only by fifteen days.

We'd grown up together as childhood sweethearts, and she never once called me big brother—instead she'd forced me to call her big sister.

Her voice made my face flush and my heart pound. I forgot the questions entirely and said, as if fleeing, "I'll go get you a glass of water."

Once I got to the tea room, it took me a while to calm down. I patted my own cheeks, then carried the freshly brewed tea back to Priscilla.

She cradled the cup, head bowed, drinking. Her long lashes cast a shadow across her cheeks, and she looked so sweet.

I had the housekeeper cook a separate meal just for her.

Priscilla seemed to have something on her mind, and she ate very little.

I figured she was tired, so I set her up in a guest room, hoping she'd rest early. Just as I was about to leave, Priscilla suddenly caught my finger.

Her dark eyes stared at me without blinking as she whispered, "Big brother, stay with me."

After she said it, she even nuzzled the back of my hand with her head.

I really couldn't resist temptation like that.

I stayed with Priscilla until she fell asleep, then tiptoed away.

I didn't go back to my own room—I went to the kitchen instead.

Priscilla had eaten so little in the afternoon that I was worried she'd be hungry if she woke up in the night, so I made her a late-night snack.

I'd just finished cooking and was about to carry the food to Priscilla's room when I turned around and found Tracey. She'd come back at some point and was standing outside the kitchen, and there was no telling how long she'd been watching.