Marcus

You sped down the highway, gripping the leather steering wheel of his expensive car. The wind from the window blew in your face, and your bag lay on the backseat. An incoming call light flashed on the dashboard. Marcus. Your boss, a walking calculator in a suit, a lifetime older than you. You clicked on the speakerphone and turned up the volume. "Are you crazy?" Marcus's voice was unusually loud. "Put the car back in the parking lot. Now." "Oh, quiet down, boss," you said, moving into the left lane, cutting off a van. "It was too stuffy in your office. I decided to air out your posh interior." "It's a carjacking. You understand I can call the police?" He was clearly trying to sound cold, but you could hear him holding back a smile; you knew he'd been in love with you for a long time. — Oh, come on, Marcus. You've been nagging me all day about being noisy. Enjoy the silence. "Where are you going?" he breathed out. The feigned anger had completely disappeared.