SUBTLE PLEASURE, Just say yes!

Chapter 4

Pamir Cappo vs Cambilly Spencer

Broken

Subtle pleasure, just say yes.

Cambilly Spencer POV

She kept her eyes fixed on the ground while she held her burning cheek.

Cambilly realized she was taking a huge risk the moment she stepped through those doors once more. She wanted to stomp her feet and throw a tantrum, but a slap across the face would suffice, especially given the weekend rush she was about to face. She was fortunate to have gotten away with this much, and it was easier not to argue given that his calloused hands could do much more harm.

"How many times do I have to tell you?!" he yelled, and she stood silently with her eyes closed for a split second.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" he yelled in her face, and she frantically shook her head.

"I am sorry, sir," she breathed deeply, feeling the stinging sensation on her cheek. She could tell it was bright red.

"You seem to enjoy trying me more than the last time," he continued, and she flinched as his large hand reached up to brush his dark brown hair back into place.

"No, sir," she replied timidly, her anxiety rising and hoping it would not worsen.

"Why didn't you leave it?" he asked, and Cambilly bent her head. She did not know what to say and could not say anything wrong. She felt as though she was slow dancing in a burning house. She had nowhere to go, and it was difficult for her to listen, especially since there were miles and miles of distance between them and her heart was drifting further, but she was right there, way past her breaking point.

"Look at me," he exclaimed.

"I... I..." she stammered.

"I... I...Shit!" he roared cutting her off.

"Don't let it happen again," he screeched, and she nodded. "Take it all out," he said, tossing her bag at her feet, and she did as she was told.

At this moment, Cambilly thought she had turned into her mother—voiceless, helpless, and docile. Although it was not the first time, it never happened after intercourse. The hollow space expanding deeper inside her echoed with that emptiness deep within her heart.

Her father would frequently tell her, "You are useless and stubborn," and she felt that way today. As worthless as the day she was offered as their family's sacrificed lamb.

Afterwards, it was her turn after her sister went first. They were like grains and ground provisions that could be traded for a better price. She was the youngest child in a family of two girls and three boys. She was aware that her father intended to marry her off to pay off their debt. It was exactly what her father did and her mother could not do a damn thing.

After giving Jared the eighty dollars in her purse, Cambilly slowly nodded, sad, and broken as Jared grabbed the money from her.

She did not raise an eyebrow to meet his, but he rather spat, "Get out of my sight."

The burden Jared took a pun, turned on her heel, and slowly walked away as if she were an outcast, but Jared was not done. He roughly gripped her arm, and the force nearly knocked her off her feet, and she felt another bruise form.

His 5' 9" frame towers over her, and his foul breath fans her cheeks, sending shivers of disgust down her spine. "Make sure I get every dime the minute you walk through that door tonight," he said knowing it was pay day.

"Do you understand!" he barked when she did not respond.

"Yes, sir," her voice came out in a meek whisper, but not a single tear fell from her eyes this time, and she would have learned that she lacked Jared's strength when she attempted to fight back. Instead, she learned to hide her pain and bruises while trying to survive.

Because she needs to survive.

Then she completely erased the idea of dreams and the white night from her mind. No one would ever save her from this hell she was thrown into, she reasoned as he threw her arm back.

She was starting to feel colder than the ice block Jared was as she tried to fix her hair to cover her burning cheek the moment she walked out the door, tightening her coat around her body in the bitter November wind.

She arrived at Pearls Diner moments later, having taken the bus and walked a block to dinner. She had to clear her mind and prepare herself. She could not get lost in her past right now; her shift had begun, she was late, and she could not think about the misery that was her life.

It was quarter to seven a.m., and the restaurant was nearly full from the morning rush. The atmosphere was lively with chatter and the smooth sound of morning jazz coming from the radio. She was a little late, but she was not going to let that stop her today.

There was work to be done, and she needed to concentrate.

Cambilly dashed between the tables and made her way to the back, to store her purse and grab her apron.

She quickly changed into her blue and white uniform. Cambilly tied her apron and turned when she heard her coworker's voice.

"You're late," Cambilly's coworker Sandy said while fanning out a white apron with a string of pearls logo and the dinner's name in large blue letters

"Sorry, but the bus was late," she excused and rushed past Sandy's scrutinizing gaze.

"We should go out there," Cambilly said, tying her apron around her waist and looking back through the employee's room door.

"I will be out in a sec," Sandy replied, and Cambilly walked away before another question couldn't be asked. She quickly moved behind the counter, took out her notepad and pen, and began taking orders and communicating them to the chef.

She was back to business as usual—not that anything had changed for her anyway.

Before she knew it, the breakfast rush had passed. Their manager Janet realized they needed a break since the crowd had just subsided after their mad dash around like headless chickens during lunch. Just two tables were in use, and they were already served. The clock had passed 3:00 pm and everyone was tired so they took breaks two at a time.

"Millie and Cambilly, please take a moment to relax and take those drinks and sandwiches with you. That is an order," Janet uttered, and they obediently complied, their souls of their feet in need of a necessary rest.

Without hesitation, Cambilly acted. Her feet needed rest; they were a burning mess. With the night and morning she had, she was ready to drown out the city and decompress from her life and day before being thrown back into the loud dinner, and thus her life.

So Cambilly took her coat and meal and walked out the back. She took out the small stool she would wedge between the brick walls and steel pipes. Then she crossed the alley and positioned the bench against the opposite wall, facing the dinner door.

She quickly sat down and sighed as her back rested against the cold brick wall. Cambilly simply needed peace, not only in her surroundings but also in her mind.

She took another deep breath, and to her surprise, a warm sensation spread through her body.

NO, there was no heat, only a scent. A powerful burst that transported her to a distant past and the only pleasant memory she had. Cambilly smiled wistfully.

The fragrance soothed her nerves and energized her for the next shift. Its soothing scent drew her in and pulled her toward a potent scent.

When Cambilly closed her eyes, the headlong, sweet scent hit her nose with a giddy rush.

The flash of luxury seems overwhelming. But that rush quickly settles down and fades into a regal stillness. She started to recognize aspects of herself that she had never noticed before.

Just then, when Cambilly was sure she was going to turn into a puddle she opened her eyes. How can a scent have this type of effect on her.

Reluctant to let it end, she frantically looked around her surroundings, but she saw nobody. She inhaled deeply, hoping to slow her racing heart, but her mind was flooded with another rush of titillating intoxication.

Cambilly rose to her feet and quietly set her plate on the stool. Then she dashed to the end of the alley, turned slightly, and peered over the edge of the tall building.

The way that scent enveloped her, Cambilly appeared not to be cold at all, and she gasped, catching his attention.

He looked so... bad. No, this man had the appearance of the devil dressed entirely in black. And even though she had not had a chance to examine his face up close, something told her he might be just as cruel. She bit her lip, hoping her gasp had gone unnoticed.

She felt her chest tighten, sink, and rise dramatically, and she hoped her legs would not give out under her as she backed away, unprepared for what might happen next.

But there, leaned against his SUV with his arms folded and legs crossed, the scent's owner was staring directly at her without a bit of emotion across his face.