Olivia fully expected to pull back the curtain and see Kafka sulking in the corner, head hung like some tragic hero in a play, stewing in the misery she'd been so carefully feeding all this time.
Just the thought made the corner of her mouth twitch upward, her private little victory smile, because she'd been savoring every moment of his pitiful pursuit.
But the moment she pushed the curtain aside and stepped out, the entire script in her head shattered.
Kafka wasn't in the corner.
He wasn't standing there with those pleading eyes, waiting to pour yet another syrupy compliment over her cold silence.
No, he was nowhere near miserable.
He was in the middle of the floor, surrounded.
By women.
A whole semicircle of the store's female employees, all gathered around him like schoolgirls around the most popular boy in class.
