The Croissant and the Crown

POV of Sophia

The bell above the door chimed, pulling me from the rhythm of kneading dough. I wiped my flour-covered hands on my apron before looking up, expecting Mrs. Peterson's usual morning order.

Instead, I found myself staring at a man who seemed to have stepped out of a magazine. Tall, with tailored clothes that screamed wealth, and piercing blue eyes that locked onto mine with unsettling intensity.

"Can I help you?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

He approached the counter, his movements fluid and confident. "I'll take one of those." He pointed to the freshly baked croissants in the display case.

"Anything else?" I asked, reaching for a bag.

"That's all." He smiled, a practiced charm that probably worked on most women.

I handed him the bag, careful not to let our fingers touch when he reached for it. "That'll be $2.50."

He handed me a fifty-dollar bill. "Keep the change."

"I can't do that, sir. I don't have enough cash for—"

"Alexander," he interrupted. "And you should be able to. I'm sure you work hard for your money."

I glanced at the security camera in the corner. "I'll get you your change."

"Don't bother." He leaned against the counter, lowering his voice. "If I come back tomorrow, will you remember me?"

"I remember all my regular customers," I replied politely, still counting out his change.

"No." His finger tapped the counter. "I want to be special."

Something in his tone made my spine stiffen. "Here's your change, Mr. Alexander."

He took the money but left it on the counter. "I'll be back tomorrow."

True to his word, Alexander returned the next day. And the day after that. Each time, he bought a single pastry, flirted shamelessly, and left a generous tip.

By the end of the week, he'd graduated from buying one croissant to buying a dozen. Then two dozen. Then, one rainy Tuesday, he walked in and announced, "I'll take everything in the display case."

I blinked at him. "Everything?"

"Everything," he confirmed, his smile widening. "And I want you to give it away."

"To who?"

"Anyone who walks by." He shrugged, as if giving away hundreds of dollars worth of baked goods was nothing. "I want to make people happy."

I studied him more carefully. "Why?"

His smile faltered for just a moment. "Don't you think the world needs more happiness?"

I began boxing up pastries. "You could donate to a shelter instead."

"I could." He watched me work. "But then I wouldn't get to see you smile."

My cheeks warmed despite myself. "I'm not smiling."

"Not yet." He winked.

For the next hour, we stood outside my little bakery, handing out free pastries to surprised passersby. Alexander charmed everyone who took a bag, but his eyes kept returning to me.

"Your turn," he said, offering me a small chocolate éclair.

I hesitated before taking it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." His gaze lingered on my face as I took a bite.

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