Anna's POV
"Uncle Marcus, thank you for today," I said, working to keep my voice light.
"What a coincidence that you showed up at the Simpson house. What brought you there?"
Marcus's eyes swept over me briefly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Had some business," he replied flatly.
I mentally sighed. The man was the definition of concise-borderline taciturn. From the moment he'd entered the Simpson mansion to the moment we left, he'd done nothing except stand up for me.
As if sensing my thoughts, Marcus unexpectedly elaborated. "Handled your situation. Forgot my own business. I'll deal with it later."
"Forgot?" I couldn't hide my surprise.
That seemed like an awfully flimsy excuse for someone as meticulous as Marcus Murphy. Watching him awkwardly examine his car's interior, I wondered how he'd even managed to drive here in the first place.
