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“Now.”

The man nearly trips over his own shoes.

“I’m sorry.”

Vidar inclines his head.

“Accepted.”

I stare.

Mr. Henderson stares.

Vidar looks perfectly satisfied with himself.

“Wonderful!” I announce brightly, shoving the arrangement toward the customer. “Happy birthday to your wife!”

Mr. Henderson grabs the flowers and practically sprints out the door.

The bell jingles violently behind him.

I turn toward Vidar.

He smiles.

I grab his arm.

“Back room. Now.”

“You cannot threaten my customers!”

Vidar leans against the storage-room wall, looking entirely too comfortable for a man who has just terrified a paying client.

“I did not threaten him.”

“You looked at him like you were deciding where to bury the body.”

“I had not decided.”

I press my lips together.

Don’t laugh.

Absolutely do not laugh.

“He was rude,” Vidar continues.

“Yes, but rude people are part of running a business.”

“Then your business requires improvement.”

“That’s not how capitalism works.”

“An unfortunate system.”

I snort.

He notices.