Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(66)
When we reach the glass door, I peer in and wince. A room full of people packed in like sardines waits a few feet away. Some sit, some stand, but the one thing everyone has in common is the confusion etched on their faces as they look towards the front of the room. Two bodies stand stiffly at the head of a long, dark table, assessing each and every person with a scrutiny that has my skin itching. I recognize one of the men to be Clark Brenton while the other man goes completely unrecognized. I don’t remember ever meeting him or seeing him in passing. His place at the front of the room sparks my interest.
It’s so quiet that you could hear a pin drop when Cole opens the door and leads us inside. Heads turn and curious, maybe even envious eyes observe me, fraying my nerves. When Cole turns to face me, I let my arm fall limp to my side. I flinch when he pats my lower back, his pinky brushing the top of my ass.
He mumbles quickly, "Have a seat and enjoy. I look forward to talking to you afterward.”
I manage to nod before moving to the lone empty chair that rests against the back wall. The two male voices that spread throughout the room echo with authority and power. I can feel the shared nervousness that floats along the room, sitting heavy and thick. Looking from one set of rigid shoulders to the next, I realize that I’m not the only one who has no idea what this meeting is about. None of us do.
A gorgeous blonde sits with perfect posture on the left side of the table, two chairs down from where Clark stands, his thin lips moving as he speaks, addressing the room. A sleek, well-ironed navy pantsuit covers the woman’s athletic build. It matches the colour of her eyes perfectly. I notice that after they’ve narrowed in on me, lit with barely controlled anger.
The intensity has me swallowing an invisible lump. It’s then that I begin to feel watched. Turning my head slowly, I see several sets of eyes on me. They all look at me like they’ve found me tossing kittens onto a busy highway. The intensity behind their sudden hatred has me touching the base of my neck, feeling my raging pulse beneath my fingertips. My stomach swirls and flips, nausea threatening to take me down. Suddenly freezing, a shiver racks down my spine.
"The expansion in Toronto will only push our clientele to the next level. And with the team management selected, I have no doubt we'll be up and running in no time," Clark announces and turns from a man I've never seen before to a lit-up board on the wall behind them.
A list of several names appears on the screen at the same time that my hand flies to my mouth. Mine rests five spots from the top.
Sierra Caster - Marketing Manager
What. The. Fuck?
I meet Cole’s eager stare from across the room, fully aware that my jaw hangs unhinged, but not giving enough of a shit to reattach it. This is some sort of ploy to get into my pants. It has to be. I haven’t earned this job. Hell, I haven’t even been here long enough to earn my choice of fancy coffee creamers in the staff lounge. It feels wrong—dirty even. Like I slept my way to a promotion when I haven’t done anything of the sort. Everyone has to be thinking the same thing. I can feel it in the way they look at me, like they’re disgusted by me.
Women shouldn’t need to sleep their way to the top of anything, let alone a job. Every feminist bone in my body is snapping right now while trying to convince me to throw two middle fingers into the air and scream fuck you! It’s what I should do, right?
The boardroom is silent, everyone either staring at me or pretending they're not while they are. It’s brief, subtle ficks of their eyes or full-blown stares. Nothing in between. And as soon as Clark dismisses the meeting, promising to set something up for the members of the Toronto team this week to discuss the job, there isn’t a moving limb in the room.
I feel like the walls are closing in on me. The longer I stay here, facing more judgment than ever before, the harder it is to breathe. The panic in my chest has my breath catching with every inhale. I start to cough, feeling a tightening in my lungs as they beg for more oxygen, but as I fumble out of my seat on wobbly knees, I ignore it.
Need to get out of here. Need to breathe.
Grasping at my chest, I sprint to the door and shove it open, the cold air on my face sticking to tears that I didn’t know were there. My fingers fumble in my pocket until they grip my phone, pulling it out as I dial the number of the only person I need right now.
With a shaky hand, I lift the phone to my cheek and listen to the dial tone. I brace myself along a dark, quiet hallway and choke back a sob.
“Well if it isn’t my favourite girl. What do I owe the honour?”
Braden’s voice is like a wrecking ball, smashing apart the last remaining columns holding me up as I crumble. I can feel the tears streaming down my face, scorching the skin where they fall.
“Baby,” he whispers, and I hear something like protectiveness in his voice. It settles down on me like a weighted blanket, comforting me in a small way that I didn’t think was possible. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”
My head falls to the wall behind me as I place a hand over my mouth and try to silence my cries, suddenly overwhelmed with shame. My next words come out watery and weak. “Work. Taylor Marketing. It’s downtown. I’m in a dark hallway on the third floor. ”
I hear him shout something to someone and then the slamming of a door before he speaks again. “I’m on my way, sweetheart, and I’m going to stay on the phone with you until I get there. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but there’s no way that I’m hanging up this phone knowing how upset you are. Got it?”