“You like something for yourself?” His deep voice came close to my ear. I instantly stepped away from him. This man just didn’t know personal space.

“No. We’re here for Tess, not me, remember?”

He watched me for a moment before nodding.

“Mr. Valencian, please take a seat. Let us show the latest collections of our store,” the manager urged, with two assistants behind him carrying dozens of boxes in their hands.

With a curt nod, he wrapped his arm around my waist and led me to the sitting area. I tried to wiggle out of his arm, glaring at him. But he kept a firm hold, pulling me more into his warmth.

I huffed, giving up, not wanting to create a scene. And the thing that I felt in his arms, his scent, could be another reason I didn’t pull away.

He was tampering with my head, as well as my heart.

After I was done choosing something for Tess finally, he maneuvered me to another store. This time, I was thrown to hunt for a dress for her.

I told him our dressing style was a lot different, I couldn’t help him with that. But his opinion was different.

“I trust your decisions, Rosebud. I’m sure whatever you choose will be the best. Don’t worry. I’ll help you make the decision.”

I frowned in confusion. Whatever he said went over my head. What did he know of my decisions and choices, anyway?

Though I wouldn’t admit it, I was thankful the woman who was helping us find a dress wasn’t staring at him like a puppy craving a bone, like the women in the other shops we visited. She was polite and professional, no hint of lust on her features. When I told her what type of dress I wanted, she handed me two dozen expensive gowns. For wedding functions, they’d be best—suggested the woman.

I ran my hand over a pink satin, checking its florid designs.

Suddenly, it was snatched from me. Looking up, I found a displeased Ace glaring holes into the dress. “We’re not taking it.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it? I think it’d be perfect for Tess. And pink is her favorite color.”

He raised his brow. “What’s wrong? It’s too short.”

“So? She has no problem with short dresses.”

“But I do!” His lips tightened.

Something nagged inside me. Why did he care if Tess wore short dresses or not? My temper flared as I grabbed the dress back from his grasp.

“I liked this dress for her, so we’ll be taking this. You told me to help you and I’m just doing that. If you don’t like my choice, then be my guest and do it yourself!”

My sudden outburst didn’t seem to bother him, as he was too busy eyeing me up and down.

“What’re you doing?” I frowned.