Smarmy prick.

“I’m not shacked up with my boss! I work for him, that’s all,” my voice full of hatred, my teeth clenched.

“Yeah, sure.” He’s eyeing me in that ‘know it all,’ sleazy manner that makes my skin crawl, his eyes seeming to say, “I can imagine you screwing him in all those fancy hotels.”

“Fuck you, Marcus! You know nothing!” I turn on my heel and stamp back into my room, anger threatening to burst out. I just cannot be bothered with him or ...