Page 24 of Craving the Player

Chapter Eleven

Sierra

Iwish that the pit in my stomach had shrivelled up and died the minute we walked inside of our destination—the fancy Italian restaurant afew blocks away from the office, Paninaro’s, Ithink it’scalled. However, Istill feel like Icould hurl over at any given moment. The pungent smell of parmesan cheese and breadsticks burning my nostrils doesn'toverly help the situation either. The salad Ihad for lunch churns and churns, forming atsunami of lettuce and tomatoes in my belly.

Ijump, startled when awarm palm touches my lower back. The contact is unwanted and unnecessary. Ifreeze as if on instinct and struggle to keep my hands from shaking and clamming up.

"In the corner booth," Cole mumbles, his voice husky and much closer than it used to be. Ican feel his breath on the shell of my ear. My blood runs cold and Istruggle to swallow past the boulder in my throat. Forcing my lips to tilt up in asorry excuse of asmile, Igive abrief nod.

Looking ahead, Ifocus on two tall, well-figured receptionists—the ones I’ve become accustomed to finding giggling together in the break room every morning, holding tall plastic cups full of some sort of frothy liquid. Tonight they sit in asleek, black booth directly in front of me.

Across from them sits the CMO of Taylor Marketing, Clark Brenton. He wears an easy going smile, his sharp features completely relaxed. It’seasy to tell, even from adistance, that he’sextremely confident and self-assured. And I'msure having two stunning women sitting just afew feet away, completely enamoured by his chiseled jawline and unique, aqua-coloured eyes helps with that as well. The two women look about ready to do anything this guy asks of them with apleasant smile and an excited, “yes, sir.”

"Hey, Clark." Cole greets his boss like you would an old friend when we reach the large booth, his loud voice—firm yet somehow lazy—grabbing the table'sattention. "Ladies.” He grins at them both and I’msure his white teeth sparkle beneath the warm lighting.

The two women turn to stare at us—or me, rather—eyebrows raised with silent judgment. Ilift my hand and wave when Ifeel my anxiety near its peak. They’re expecting me to introduce myself, but Ican’tseem to speak, still too focused on the heat radiating from the hand glued to my back.

Two sets of perfectly lined eyes stare at me with asort of vacancy that urges me to drop my hand back down. My cheeks flush adeep red, feeling arush of rejection shoot through me.

“Hi,” Isqueak, mentally slapping myself in the face.

Frustration like I’ve never known nips at my spine. My career is the one place, the one thing that doesn’tmake me nervous or anxious. I’mdamn good at what Ido. Ican stand in front of an auditorium full of executives and spectating companies and not blink an eye—because I love my job. But I’macting like an idiot right now in front of two of my bosses all because I’malittle flustered by asimple hand on my back? How embarrassing.

"Hi." Ihear the woman on the inside mutter, partially under her breath. "It'sSienna, right?"

Ouch. That one burns more than Iwould have expected.

"Sierra," Icorrect her, biting back my snarky remark. The last thing Ineed is to insult anyone. Regardless of how badly Iwant to.

"Sure.” She nods absentmindedly and turns back to her orange drink.

Iknow that Ishouldn'ttake offence to her apparent lack of interest in me, but I've never been good at dealing with women outside of my field.

"It'sTiffany and Lauren, right?" Iask, forcing my shoulders back in an attempt to try and keep my composure. Ibet they're planning ways to get me fired as Ikeep standing here. My mere presence is probably astain on their entire week.

The girl sitting on the outside of the booth—Tiffany, Ithink—huffs dramatically and rolls her round, mahogany-coloured eyes. "Yeah, that’sus. Are you going to sit down now? We were waiting for you two to finally get here to order. I'mstarving."

The need to shove my face in abrown bag and hyperventilate is starting to make me dizzy.

"Sorry," Imumble quietly and slide myself into the small empty seat beside Tiffany, grateful for the space from Cole. She doesn’tbother giving me any more room on the bench. Pulling down the edge of my navy skirt, Itry to ignore the snickers beside me when Cole slides in the booth across from us. He’snot hanging half-off the edge of his seat like Iam, though.

"I'msorry for making you guys wait. Ileft my wallet at the office and didn'tnotice until we were almost here. Imade us turn back to get it," Cole says, and Imeet his gaze, blinking, uncertain as to why he just covered for me. He didn'tforget his wallet. Honestly, Ididn'teven know we were late in the first place. Iusually stay at the office later than everybody else in order to get ahead of my workload for the next day. Still, Iwasn'teven planning on coming to this stupid dinner. How was Isupposed to know that Cole was going to drag me here?

"Oh, it'sokay!" Lauren pipes up without hesitation and starts twirling astrand of red hair around her pointer finger.

"Iordered you abeer, man. Hope that'sokay," Clark says, pushing afull glass of frothy brown liquid in front of Cole. Cole responds with agrateful smile before wrapping his fingers around the dew-covered glass. Clark turns to me now. "We didn'tknow what you would want, Sierra. But the waitress should be back soon."

Great, thanks. "Alright." Inod and look away from the table to the wall across the restaurant where the bold washroom sign rests. It’snot aunique getaway by any means, but it’sagetaway nonetheless. Islip off the bench without asecond thought.

"Where are you going?" Cole asks, concern washing out his features as he stares at the hands clenched tightly around my purse.

"Washroom. I'll have water if the waitress gets here before I'mback." Idon'tget him achance to reply before I'mtaking off towards the bathroom, hoping like hell that it’sunoccupied. Idon’tparticularly want nor need an audience when Ilose it.

Iallow myself the luxury of sucking in ashallow breath, hoping it will somewhat calm me when Isuccessfully maneuver around the crowded tables, only bumping into the backs of asmall handful of chairs on my way.

Pulling open the women'sroom door, Ibeeline it for an empty stall. Ipush myself through an open one at the end of the line and shut the door behind me, twisting the lock with shaky fingers. Turning around, Ilet my back hit the metal and squeeze my eyes closed. My palms press against my eyes until Isee static but Idon’tcare. I’mtoo worked up right now.

Idon'tknow what Iwas expecting, showing up to adinner Iknew Iwasn'treally invited to, but this certainly wasn'tit. It'sclear that nobody but Cole wants me here, and honestly, I'mstill confused as to why he invited me anyway. Ihave no relation to these people, there is no work relationship or friendship outside of the office. There isn’teven one inside the office.

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