Malcolm’s expression turned to one of fury, but she was too angry to recognize the line she’d just crossed.
He swore violently and colourfully, turning away for a long moment, his back to her, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. Then he whirled back around, his eyes nearly black with rage.
“Why the hell do you have to make such a f*****g big deal out of everything I give you?” he snapped. “It’s not just the jewellery. You looked like you were on your way to death row when I bought you clothing. You’ve objected at every turn when I buy you anything, and you damn well knew the rules going in, so you can’t plead ignorance. Did you even stop to consider how that makes me feel? It’s not just a rejection of a physical object. It’s a rejection of me and my desire to spoil and pamp
