INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings - Episode 18
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Dominic ~
I made a mistà ke.
A terrible, terrible mistà ke.
Do you want to know what I did?
I challenged Genevieve. When I saw that chaótic spark in her eyes, I knew I was in trouble.
Now, all I can do is pray that I survive this week with her without saying or doing something I might regret later.
What made me think challenging her was a good idea? I guess I underestimated how fixated she is on winning. From the looks of it, she might actually pull it off.
That would be catastróphic.
It’s not that I don’t want her to ace her upcoming test. It’s just that Genevieve King has made it her mission to make me fall, and now that I’ve unwittingly given her an opportunity, she’ll do everything in her power to make it happen—specifically, the trip.
She’s been studying hard. And I mean really hard. She hasn’t even touched her E-reader for days. If she’s not buried in a physical book, she’s glued to her iPad or laptop, completely focused on her studies.
Genevieve has primarily zeroed in on mathematics because, apparently, she hatés it. I don’t want to jinx it, but she’s already good enough to pull a B, so getting an A shouldn’t be too difficult for her.
Watching her, I can’t help but regret challenging her—not because I’m afraid of losing, but because I worry she’ll wear herself out before test week even arrives.
"Don’t you think you should take a break?" I suggested casually, causing her to lift her head from her mountain of work and glare at me. "What? Why are you giving me that look?"
"Because you’re trying to make me lose."
"By suggesting you take a break?"
"Yes. Your plan won’t work."
There’s no plan.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t devise one.
I shook off the overwhelming thoughts and resisted the urge to approach her on the sofa.
Pushing myself off the wall, I walked towards her slowly and deliberately. "What plan?" I asked, feigning ignorance—because, honestly, I was clueless. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."
"Cut the act, Dominic. You know what you’re doing."
Once I reached her, I let a mischievous smirk slip onto my lips as I leaned in closer, placing my hands on either side of her on the sofa. For once, I had the upper hand.
No, you don’t.
Yes, I do.
Genevieve leaned back slightly, our gazes locking in an intense stare. I couldn’t break it even if I wanted to, which, unsurprisingly, I didn’t.
"What am I doing?"
I didn’t have an answer, especially since I had put myself in this position. I also couldn’t explain why my voice sounded so much deeper.
You sure?
Shut up!
"Are you sure you want to do this? You know I’m always interested in this—" Her eyes flicked to my lips, then back to my eyes, and then back again. "What are we doing again?"
I had no answer. Initially, I thought she was just a rich, spoiled brat who felt entitled, but now I realized she was so much more than that—and it had completely thrown me off.
Not to mention, she could still be a brat when she wanted to be.
"You know, I’ve been wondering how you would taste." My fist clenched involuntarily at her casual remark. I must have reacted somehow because she smirked. "And I can’t wait to find out on our trip."
Maybe I should say something came up. That would put an end to this, wouldn’t it?
"And to think I’ll be your first kiss—how awesome." Genevieve laughed, as if it were the most amusing thing in the world, when it really wasn’t.
It kind of is.
How do I turn off that annoying voice in my head?
"Don’t flatter yourself."
Really? That’s all I could come up with after everything she just said?
I nearly slapped myself, but I decided to take one humiliation at a time. Genevieve then made matters worse by bursting into fits of laughter.
What’s more infuriating: the fact that she looked stunning while doing it, or that she might actually be right about being my first kiss?
That didn’t come out right. She won’t be my first kiss under any circumstances. I won’t kiss her, or even touch her in any way that’s inapprópriate.
I am Dominic Morozov, and I’ve been involved with plenty of women—sexuà lly and professionally—but I’ve never so much as dreamed of kissing, so hers won’t be any different.
Except it is.
"Isn’t it exhausting to keep denying the obvious?"
I pulled away from her, stood up straight, and tucked my hands into my pockets to avoid doing anything stupid again. "You must be hungry."
"Yeah, hungry for you."
"Stop it, Genevieve."
"Ugh, you're no fun."
"I’m not supposed to be fun."
"Why? Because you’re old? Or because you’re in the mafÃa?"
"Because you’re a kid."
She frowned and crossed her arms. "I’m eighteen."
"No, you’re seventeen."
"Not anymore. I turned eighteen today."
It took a moment for her words to sink in, and when they did, I was left utterly shocked.
How did I not know?
You forgot.
Then why didn’t she tell me?
"Today is your birthday?" If I thought I hid my shock well, I was in for a surprise.
"Yes."
"Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve been here for three hours; you could have easily mentioned it."
"Why? Do you have something for me?"
"Genevieve, I’m being serious."
"I can see that. But why should I have told you?"
I exhaled, realizing that she wanted something from me. She does that often—plays with words. When she saw that I was catching on, she stood up and walked toward me.
"You wanted to give me a gift?" Genevieve asked mischievously, clearly plotting something in her head. "What do you want to give me?"
What did I want to give her?
I didn’t know, but I could have...
No, no, no. I don’t care if today is her birthday. Why should I even consider giving her a gift? I don’t give a dà mn.
Yeah, you don’t, yet you have a room in your house made just for her, you’ve got her plenty of books you know she loves, and you even want to go on a trip with her. Of course, you don’t care about her.
"Come on, tell me. I’m utterly curious." She put her hands behind her back and tilted her head, looking like an innocent little girl when she was far from it. "You know, I’m finally legal in all countries, including Russia, so technically, I’m not a kid anymore. And that means, now more than ever..."
I didn’t let her finish when I quickly cut in. "You should find another hobby."
"Why? I’m perfectly fine with the ones I have."
We weren’t talking about hobbies, and we both knew that. What I failed to realize was why she was so determined to make me fall. My self-control had never been threatenéd, not until Genevieve King—the girl I so desperately wanted to destróy—came into my life.
I might actually get to destróy her, but what if she destróys me first? What if we destróy each other? Who would emerge as the winner in this little game of ours?
As if she read my mind, she said, "You should know I never lose."
"Me neither."
"We’ll see about that." Her determination scared me, but I didn’t let it show. "It’s late; I should get going."
✧✧✧✧
The next day was Saturday, and I was supposed to attend a party I’d been invited to before eight in the evening. It was currently half past eight, and Dexter hadn’t convinced me enough to go, since Cassidy wouldn’t dare contradict my words.
I hà te social gatherings more than anything. I have to mingle with pretentious elite types and act like their presence doesn’t irk me. I also have to pretend to like them, which is the hardest part, but I do it anyway to avoid being exposed in the public eye.
I can’t risk that, especially when Aurora still wants to attend school here. The gentleman act needs to remain a mask.
"Fine, stop groaning. I’ll go," I told him after I’d had enough of his repetitive complaints.
Cassidy must have orchestrated this to him, as this party has nothing to do with the underworld. And yes, my secretary's name has finally lodged itself in my brain, all thanks to a certain girl who just won't leave my thoughts.
Another half an hour later, I find myself at the party, surrounded by people I absolutely do not like. After a round of forced socializing, I managed to carve out a moment of personal space, but it lasted only a minute.
"We meet again, Mr. Morozov." A familiar feminine voice echoed as she appeared before me. "Do you remember me?"
How could I forget?
She once launched herself at me—both literally and figuratively—at another party. She’s the daughter of some British elite, though his name has slipped my mind.
I plastered on the most modest smile I could muster, one that didn’t scream fake. "Ah, yes. You’re Ms. Carlton."
Fortunately, I remembered her last name, and it seemed to check off quite a few boxes for her, as her smile broadened.
"So, you do remember. I thought you might have forgotten."
I wish I could say I did.
"I could never. We are business partners, after all."
"Is that the only reason?" Ms. Carlton asked, her tone flirtatious. Her eyes seemed to undress me without a hint of subtlety.
Normally, her made-up face and sleek ponytail would elicit a reaction from me, but not this time. I should be at least a little intrigued, but I’m not—not even a bit.
Even if I were attracted to her, I wouldn’t act on it because she’s my business partner. She knows that, yet she keeps pushing her luck.
It’s frústrating, especially now that I’ve come to realize only Genevieve King can provoke that particular reaction from me.
"What other reason could there be?"
"I don’t know; you tell me."
Her flirting is becoming suffocating—not the good kind that Genevieve manages, but the kind that makes me wish I could just put a bullét in her head.
Ms. Carlton stepped closer with a weak attempt at a smirk. "You look extremely handsome today, Mr. Morozov."
Oh, my God. How long do I have to endure this?
"Thanks." I offered a smile, one that was definitely fake. "You don’t look bad yourself."
Just then, a glass shattered on the ground, scattering pieces everywhere.
TBC📖✍️
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