Hidden Secrets: A Screwed Up Love Story.

At one point in my life, I believed I would have settled down and landed my dream job by the time I turned 22. I would have met the man of my dreams, who would wine and dine me and introduce me to new things, allowing me to experience life in a new light.

Instead, here I stand, watching as the door trembles, shattering all my hopes and dreams in one fluid motion, derailing my future completely.

"Mila!" His angry voice booms through the door as he pounds more forcefully against the thick wood, violently shaking it, and I watch as dust falls from the frame.

"I'm sorry, Ace." I sob, my quivering hands encircling my torso.

"You had one job!" Patronisingly, he declares. "One simple job and you couldn't even do that right!!"

The job...

Was to sit there at the table and laugh at his friends jokes even though they were cheap shots at my expense.

After a few hours of sitting there giggling like an airhead, my mind naturally wandered off and I quickly found myself daydreaming about how different my life could have been if I didn't agree to go on a date with Ace all those years ago.

When he realised I had stopped entertaining them with my feminine laughter, he quickly shoved me to the ground sending me toppling over in my chair with a harsh sneer that had my insides churning and I took off running to the bathroom with him hot on my heels as his friends laughed out loud.

Now,

If you find yourself wondering who this Ace person is. Let me give you a brief introduction to the man heavily pounding on the door.

Ace, Ace-Fucking-Russo. An Italian bitch to the Mafia, a dumb fuck who can't think for himself and his most prized possessions that he boasts about when he is outrageously intoxicated...

Are his fists and his needle dick.

He is my constant headache, my walking, breathing fear-infused male vessel who enjoys using me as a verbal and physical punching bag.

As alluring as he was at the start of our relationship, the excitement quickly wore off like a lit candle trying its best to survive a wave of draft crashing into its flickering light.

When he began marking my face with his hands, smearing my complexion with lovely shades of blue, purple, and yellow bruises, I vowed that I would not let him abuse me forever.

However, that vow quickly lost its allure when he threatened to harm my frail father, who had survived a stroke a year ago that left him paralysed on one side of his body and a week ago, I learned that my father had suffered another stroke where he sadly lost his battle to live another day and I never got to say my final goodbyes.

Ace smashes the door open, scattering wood fragments all over the place as he marches directly towards me, his face flushed, his fists clenched, and the devil in his eyes. He grabs me by the hair and drags me through the house as I scream and beg for mercy, my limbs already aching from yesterday's beating.

"Don't grovel; only dogs grovel!" He hisses as he drags me through the living room, where his other mobster buddies are gathered around a large table still playing cards and sipping on whiskey.

As he pushes me onto the sofa, looming over me and forcing my legs open, he turns to face his friends and laughs wildly. "Occasionally, all she needs is a good root to remind her who she belongs to boys. Keep this in mind and your woman will always fall in line." As his gaze fell on mine, he sneers viciously.

His stormy grey eyes make me queasy, and when he turns back to his boys, boasting as if he were the man, I turn my head to the side and notice that the entry door has been left wide open.

I scream and without hesitation, I raise my knee and connect it with his man jewels. He howls, leaning back and cups himself as his face turns bright red and his eyes bulge out of their sockets. I shove him to the ground with all my strength and vault to my feet, stumbling as I attempt to regain my footing in my heels and take off running....

My limbs burn with each stride I take, and the sound of my heels slamming into the concrete transmit a sharp clicking sound through the atmosphere. I clutch at my neck, my fingers wrapping around my throat as I urgently attempt to fill my lungs with the tainted air of dirty money, drugs, blood and unconsented sex.

The feral aroma embedding itself into the Mafia mansion, its repulsive scent lingering down the neighbourhood scaring families away from moving into the street.

I squeeze through a small opening in the massive iron fence designed for a palace, ripping my jacket and grazing my arm in the process. The pain lasts for a millisecond, solely because I'm running on pure adrenaline, it doesn't deter me; I round the corner and I risk it by looking back to see him close behind me.

And, no matter how hard I try to speed up my legs, human biology proves that men are naturally faster, and his hands encircle my waist, dragging me off my feet. I scream bloody murder as I struggle in his embrace.

"You crazy ungrateful Bitch!" As he flings me to the ground, he hisses in my ear.

I rub the dirt off my hands, standing to my feet with fear written all over my face as he advances on me.

"I.. Ace, I can't anymore." I gulp loudly and whimper. "Please... just leave me alone," I plead, casting a glance around our surroundings in the hopes that someone will come to my rescue.

"Do you think this is a check-in/check-out relationship between us?" He shakes his head in displeasure, his mouth seething with a sinister look on his face.

Suddenly his boys join him at his side, bending over and gasping for air. "Bro!" Jacob says, his gaze falling on mine. "If you're going to drag her ass home, I highly suggest you do it right now because Trent just arrived at the house and wants to see you. Now..." His gaze softens as it remains fixed on mine.

"You know what, Mila," Ace huffs, chuckling in front of his friends like everything is under control. "Piss off!" He clutches my upper arm, causing a pinch of pain in the process. "For 48 hours, I'll keep my door open for you, after that, you're on your own, tesoro." He says, shoving me free as he turns around and starts to walk back the way we came.

I don't attempt to reply; instead, I sprint away with two one hundred dollar bills stuffed into the padding of my bra and don't look back until I enter a pub crowded with men in suits. As I make my way towards the women's restroom, I can feel their gazes on me, diminishing the last ounce of my dignity.

'Fuck you, Fuck you all!!' I think to myself, slipping behind the bathroom door.

"Hiiitt meeee!" I slur, slamming my shot glass onto the table for the sixth time.

"Are you certain you don't want a glass of water or a snack first, cupcake?" With a worried expression on his face, the bartender dared to ask.

"I apologise; was I not clear?" Burping, I say sarcastically. "I'd like another whissssskeey." I sigh loudly as I run my fingers through my hair.

"No, you were crystal clear. But a pretty little thing like you in this place?" He pauses, brow cocked. "These men are going to eat you alive." He titters as he refills and slides my shot glass over to me.

"These men?" I chuckle. Grabbing my shot glass, I down it in a single fluid hit. "You ought to see the jackass I just left." I tap my glass against the counter, indicating the need for another.

"Drinking away your problems only serves to draw you deeper into a world of chaos." He warns me by pointing the bottle at me. "This is the furthest thing from where you want to be, cupcake." He refills my glass and returns the bottle to the shelf before walking away.

I swivel in my chair, leaning against the bar, and take it all in.

Huh! The farthest place I want to be is from Ace, I'm so sick and tired of that bastard always making me feel like I'm worthless and if he thinks I'm going to return to him with my tail between my legs... He can get fucked.

I need to be in a place like this, surrounded by wealthy mature men, and I suddenly find myself wondering if the grass is greener on their side. I bite my bottom lip, my gaze sweeping over everyman, and I become curious to know how a rich jackass tastes after being kissed. I finish my shot and look at the entrance, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

As the door slowly swings open, I rise from my stool and stride across the bar, my strides devouring the space like a hurricane unleashed, and when his gaze falls on mine, I snake my hands around his neck, running my fingers through his hair as I force his head down and press my cool lips against his hot ones.

He lets out a low grunt and his hands find my hips, digging his fingers into them as I intensify the kiss. He has an upscale aroma and a flavour reminiscent of coffee infused with a hint of cigars.

I intend to withdraw, thus putting an end to our small kissing episode, but as he pulls me flush against his body and his teeth nip at my ear lobes, a sudden, unexpected surge of desire floods me, and the soft cries that belong in the bedroom do not deter my lips.

When a loud eruption of whistling, clapping, and shouting penetrates the air, I place my hands on his chest and begin to move away from him as I return to my stool. His fingers entwine with mine, and he yanks me closer to him.

"How about it, kedi yavrusu? What is your name?" He inquires, his heavy accent making me pant with sexual curiosity.

"Mila," I find myself responding as I stare in awe at his Emerald green eyes with grey flecks.

"Are you prone to kissing strangers in bars?" He leans in seductively and inquires, his deep velvety voice bathing me in an unfamiliar sensation that draws me to him.

I gulp, my gaze darting to his perfectly formed lips as I shake my head, eliciting a snicker from him. "Has the cat stolen your tongue?" He says amusingly, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the inside of my bottom lip.

"You frighten me." I declare candidly, his thumb still resting on my bottom lip, and I suddenly feel hot and flustered.

"Ah, I see," he winks. "Did a sudden surge of courage strike you as you considered your ex and wanted to demonstrate to yourself that you don't need him, evet?"

I yank my hand free from his embrace. "Are you a mind reader?" I ask, defensively crossing my arms and glaring at him.

"Hayir," he says softly. "However, I can read your body language,kedi yavrusu, and it begs for me to touch you." His hand moves from my lip to the side of my face.

I lick my lips because I know deep down that he is correct and the longer I stare into his Emerald green eyes, the more I feel myself falling down the doomsday rabbit's hole. I lean into his touch, raising my hand to rest on his chest and sensing the beat of his heart beneath my fingertips.

The sound of the music being played on the old rustic jukebox in the corner snaps me back to reality; my hand springs back from his chest and I chuckle, shaking my head and falling backwards due to the alcohol I've consumed.

"Whoa!" He reaches forward, assisting me in regaining my footing. "Come on, let's get you a large glass of water," he says in his divine accent as he walks me to the bar.

I sit on my stool, sipping away on the ice water he had ordered for me before ordering himself a bourbon and joining his friends at the round table in the bar's corner. I make a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with him, but every now and then I find myself searching for him among the crowd, and every time I do, our eyes collide and he flicks me a wink that makes my lady bits scream for his touch.

"You don't want to go there, cupcake, not with him anyway," the bartender informs me as he leans over the countertop.

"Oh, yeah?" I respond as I turn to face him. "Why is that?" I enquire sceptically.

"Because no woman has ever returned to her normal self after spending the night with the Turkish God," he mutters jealously.

"I suppose it's a good thing I'm wanting to change." I rise from my stool, removing my jacket with a slight tear and handing it to the bartender. I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. "I've always fantasised about sleeping with an older man," I say, my nipples hardening as my panties moisten with arousal.

"He's 37 years old, enjoys fucking, and never fucks the same woman twice," the bartender announces.

"Does he have a name?"

"Aydem-fucking-Burak."

I flick my hair, take another deep breath, and cross the bar, enjoying the way Aydem's eyes devour me. Ace has never looked at me in that way before, nor has he ever... and by that I mean ever... made me crave fucking more than I do at this moment.

I stumble to his table, a lopsided smirk staining his God-carved face, and I slip between him and his friend, who is deep in conversation with Aydem, unaware that his only interest is in me. "I want to forget an ex, and I want you to be the one who helps me." I pant, licking my lips.

"And why do you want me to do it, kedi yavrusu?" he responds huskily.

"I've always wanted to be fucked by a man who knows what he's doing," I say honestly, "He's my first and I really don't want him to be my last."

He stands, picking up his car keys from the table and looks at me with curiosity. "I will ruin you for any other man who desires to touch you." His words hold a promising tone to them and I don't doubt him for a second as I follow him out of the bar.

"SHIIT!" I groan, resting the back of my hand on my head in the hopes that the hammering will soon subside as I continue to wake up.

I squirm myself up against the headboard, prying one eyelid open, the sun's harsh rays glittering into the room and I spot the baby dust particles dancing through the air.

I pry the other eyelid open, looking down at the man stretched across the bed, his forearm covering his eyes and the sheet concealing his manhood. I bite my lower lip as I let my eyes unashamedly consume him and I reach out, cautiously raising the sheet as I take a peek inside.

My inner goddess cries her gratitude.

I cross one leg over the other, suppressing the yearning that makes me want to ride him like a demented zombie hooker, even though his cock is limp, he is long and thick, I just know he would've been one wild ride to cling onto last night.

If only this fog clouding my memory will lift and reveal everything in one hot flashback.

I run my fingers along his cock, watching as it jerks and slowly begins to rise as if to give me a standing ovation. His hand clasps my wrist tightly, like fire bands, and when I attempt to withdraw from his touch, he sits upright and glances at me with a smouldering look in his eyes.

"One taste is all you get." In a deep voice, he declares leaving no room for an argument. "Last night was... satisfying, but now it's time for you to leave and not look back." He lets go of me with a disgusted expression on his face, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I scoff, offended by his abrupt dismissal and choice of words. Humiliation slams into me and I refuse to let him think he can treat me like some.. Bimbo hooker wanting a relationship with him.

"Yeah, I had so much fun I can't even remember what happened between us." I get out of bed, grabbing his shirt, and drape it over my shoulders. "I'm keeping this by the way." I regard him with repulsive eyes.

"Everyone always wants something from me as a souvenir." He slides out of the bed, standing in front of me butt naked and I do my best not to let my eyes drink him in.

"Ha!" I scoff, "Please turn the cockiness down a fraction." I look him up and down, realising why a man his age hasn't settled down yet. "I only wanted to use your body and it seems I was fed false information by the bartender because I don't want to screw you again."

I search the room for the remainder of my clothing, spotting my torn underwear hanging off the corner of the bed. I cut my losses, finding my jeans and heels by his dresser, pulling the jeans over my hips, slipping on my heels, and I turn to face him.

"I'm pretty disappointed that you couldn't keep your promise and ruin me for other men like you stated." I run my fingers through my hair with trembling hands, starting to think all men are jerks!

"And I like my women with a little more experience in the bedroom," he says, slipping his boxers over his hips, resting his hands on his hips as he regards me. "I'm surprised your ex-boyfriend stayed with you for so long when you're a prude beneath the sheets." He cocked his brow at me.

"Some of us have class, and perhaps you're not as memorable as you like to think you are!" I huff, blowing the stray hairs out of my face.

"Don't be concerned, Askim." He laughs unaffected by my remark. "Once you leave the hotel, you'll only be a whiff of memory up in here." He has a cocky grin on his face and taps his finger against his temple.

I reach out, wiping everything off the top of his dressing table and hurling it to the ground. His pricey cologne bottles shatter, the resulting liquid coating his leather wallet and Rolex watch with a new crack on its face

"Ooops." With a smirk on my face, I look at him. "You'll remember me for much more than a bad lay, now." I flip him the bird, eliciting a growl from him and storm out of the room, regretting my decision to fuck the jerk in the first place.

I step inside the elevator car, pushing the 'ground floor' button repetitively, wishing it will hurry up so I can leave this hotel behind like another bad recollection being added to my memory vault.

I look at myself in the mirrored walls, gasping as I frantically try to make myself look presentable, wiping the smeared mascara from my eyes, fixing my hair and tucking his shirt into my jeans. I bring the collar to my nose, inhaling his scent, breathing him in like my starving lungs rely on it and letting his scent linger in the air as I step out of the car, brushing past a mob of people glaring at me.

Reminding me I don't belong in a place like this.

I exit the hotels' double swinging doors, inhaling the early summer mornings air, grateful to be alive for another day. I walk down the street, crossing the road with no intentions of where I am heading now that I am free from Ace. The world is my oyster and with $10 in my pocket, I'm able to purchase a bus ticket that will get me two towns away from here.

I stand outside the bus terminal, looking at the board with the available bus agendas and unexpectedly I find myself being dragged towards the alleyway. I regard the men as mere addicts seeking their next fix, and when they release me, they throw me to the ground. I sit and watch as one of them draws a knife. It's long and sinister, glistening in the sun that slants down from the slummy sheet of sky.

The man holding the knife smirks as he runs his tongue along his top teeth and I realise... this is far more than a simple mugging.