He picked up another dish and smiled. “And this spicy shrimp—I asked the housekeeper to make it just for you.”
Watching him tend to Pearl so gently, Alannah couldn’t help herself. “Quincy,” she said softly, “if I remember right, you have stomach problems. You’re not supposed to eat spicy food, are you?”
Pearl immediately clung to his arm, concern lacing her voice. “Quincy, why didn’t you tell me?”
He brushed a smear of sauce from the corner of her lips, his tone tender. “If it’s with you, even poison would taste sweet.”
Then, he turned his cold eyes on Alannah, as though blaming her for daring to speak.
Alannah was about to leave when Pearl suddenly stopped her.
Holding a steaming bowl of soup, Pearl smiled sweetly. “If you don’t want to eat, at least have some soup.”
Keeping her expression calm, Alannah quietly pressed the hidden switch on the camera on her necklace and replied, “Sorry, I’m allergic to dairy.”
But Pearl insisted, pushing the bowl into her hands. “Just one sip. It’s really good.”
The heat seeped through the porcelain, and Alannah’s hand jerked involuntarily. The scalding soup splashed out, spilling over the back of her hand.
“Ouch! It hurts…”