Marcus was in the middle of dutifully wiping down the front counter when the little bell above the door jingled. He instantly plastered on his best, most professional shopkeeper smile and turned around, his voice all cheery.
"Welcome, dear custo—... oh. It's you."
The smile didn't just fade; it curdled and died right on his lips. His disappointment was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
There, standing in his doorway, looking nothing like the scruffy brat from yesterday and everything like a smug, rich, mafia-boss-wannabe in that stupidly expensive-looking suit, was Alex.
'This... this BRAT!'
Marcus seethed internally, his grip on the cleaning rag tightening until his knuckles went white.
'He actually came back! He's here for more! I knew it! Well, not this time! I will not let him do anything funny... anything at all... with my poor, sweet, innocent wife! Hmpff!'
