Insatiable Cravings - Episode 23

 

 

INSATIABLE CRAVINGS

Insatiable Cravings - Episode 23

Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game} 

TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.

Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.

By: Chukwuma Rejoice 

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

~ Dominic ~

This feels like déjà vu.

Here I am again, scolding myself for once more challenging Genevieve King. I can’t quite comprehend what makes me think I stand a chance against her. 

So, here I sit, questioning my own sanity. Ever since my impulsive decision last night, my mind has been anything but clear. My ability to think rationally has plummeted.

Except, of course, when it comes to thoughts of Genevieve—whether I want to think about her or not. She possesses an uncanny power to invade both my mind and my heart, even from a distance.

Tomorrow, we’re off to the Maldives. I’ve taken care of all the arrangements, save for my racing heart and my scattered thoughts.

My heart pounds against my ribcage as if it’s desperate to escape. Meanwhile, I’m tormeñted by the memory of her stunning face. The way her chaótic blue eyes ignite whenever I look at her sends ripples through my entire being.

I’m at a loss for words. All I know is that what I feel is strange, overwhelming, and undeniably dangeroús. The urge to possess and claim her intensifies with every passing moment, and I find it increasingly difficult to resist.

But I refuse to give her the satisfaction. I can’t allow her to get under my skin.

Except she already has.

Can you be quiet already?!

If I surrender to her, it will end in disàster. It will likely spiral into chaos, and no matter how much she believes she can handle my madnéss, she will end up deeply húrt.

Isn’t that the plan? To shàtter her beyond repair?

That’s your intention, isn’t it?

I’m only halfway through my plans, and I’m already feeling the urge to stop. She doesn’t deserve to súffer for her father’s actions.

But my parents didn’t deserve to díe in such a hórrific manner. I didn’t need to witness their last breaths. So, unfortunately, I must proceed; Kyle Walker must understand the devastation of lóss, and Genevieve King has become the target.

And I, Dominic Morozov, will not allow a fierce, sharp-tongued, quick-witted eighteen-year-old goddess to distract me from my goal. No matter how captivating those ocean-blue eyes are, how brightly they reflect her emotions, or how soothing her British-accented voice sounds, or how intoxicating her scent is, I will stay focused on my mission.

My thoughts were interrupted when my phone lit up on my desk. I picked it up to find a message from my pilot, informing me of the plane's readiness for tomorrow.

With a restrained sigh, I typed a message to Genevieve.

Me ≈ Be ready tomorrow before seven.

She didn’t respond immediately. In fact, it took a few minutes before her reply came through.

Vixen ≈ Sure.

Me ≈ Should I pick you up?

Vixen ≈ No, it’s fine; I’ll drive. Just send me the address.

Me ≈ Alright.

We hadn’t seen each other today because she mentioned visiting her best friend, Julianna, to inform her about the trip. And yes, I kept her name in my head because she’s evidently a very important person in my Genevieve’s life.

My Genevieve?

That didn’t come out quite right.

But it certainly felt right!

I sighed resignedly, not in the mood to argue with myself. After all, I needed to use today to clear my schedule because Genevieve had said—more like threatened—that if she caught me working on our trip, she would kick my bàlls until they turned yellow.

I knew she wasn’t one to bluff. It wasn’t that I was afraid of her; I simply really loved my bàlls just the way they were.

I chuckled at my silly thoughts, running my fingers through my disheveled hair and ruffling it even more.

Yep, I was going cràzy.

••

It was different from how I remembered it.

That was my first thought when I stepped into the outhouse, which Rory referred to as the Morozov's Museum of Spectacular Arts.

As ridiculous as it sounded, she wasn’t wrong. We both grew up with incredible talent—me with painting and her with sketching.

While I excelled at painting and occasionally drawing, Rory was exceptional at sketching. It had been our favorite pastime until I got too busy to indulge in leisure activities.

I hadn’t touched a paintbrush or pencil in years, and honestly, I missed it.

Different canvases of my paintings were hung all over the walls alongside Aurora’s amateur attempts. She had been trying to paint more like me and our mother recently, and let’s just say, she was still mastering the craft.

Even now, she was working on something. I couldn’t tell what it was, but there were a lot of bright colors splashed across the canvas. As I moved closer, I noticed that her face and apron were smeared with different colors, prompting a low chuckle from me.

My baby sister literally jumped up with a startled shriek, her eyes wide with fright. She relaxed only when her gaze landed on my face, confirming it was really me.

Rory hissed, “Don’t scare me like that.” She turned back to her painting.

I smiled and rested my head on her shoulder. “Are you a scaredy cat?” She turned her head just enough to glare at me. “Aurora Morozov is a scaredy cat,” I sang, bobbing my head left and right while still leaning on her.

“Oh, please,” my sister drawled, clearly rolling her eyes in exaggerated fashion. “I am not scared. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a two-time taekwondo belt earner, a gymnast, and Dominic Morozov’s sister. I can defeat anyone with those skills.”

Anyone but me.

I raised an eyebrow in mock challenge, prompting her to groan and add, “Except for you, of course.”

Good.

I lifted my head from her shoulder, shoving my hands into my pockets. “By the way, I don’t think anyone would be foolish enough to put their hands on Dominic Morozov’s sister in the wrong way. Plus, no one else has access here except us two, so calm down.”

“Yeah, never tell a girl to calm down,” Rory said. “It will only make her even màdder. It’s a universal truth, so be careful.”

I was pretty sure my expression reflected my confusion. In fact, “confusion” didn’t even begin to cover it; I couldn’t understand why telling girls to calm down would only escalate things.

Aurora spun to face me, the palette and paintbrush in either hand. She pointed the paintbrush at me. “When you tell girls to calm down, it’s like saying, ‘yeah, it’s fine. I’m tired of hearing you rant,’ but with just two dreàdful words.” 

Was it wrong that I wanted to try it on Genevieve?

“Do you understand?”

“Yeah?” I replied, unsure how to answer. Clearing my throat, I raked my fingers through my hair for the hundredth time that evening. “By the way, I’m leaving early tomorrow for the trip.”

“The trip with Genevieve?”

“Yep. You’ll be fine, right? For a whole week?”

“A week, and more, as long as you have a lot of actual fun. Loosen up a bit, alright?”

“I can’t afford to loosen up to have ‘actual fun.’ You know how risky that is.”

“You can loosen up and still be alert, Nic.”

“I’ll try.”

“You better do more than try,” she said sharply. “This is practically your honeymoon.”

Honeymoon? With Genevieve?

I wasn’t sure if it was terrifying or exciting. Perhaps it was somewhere in between. Who knew a few words from my sister could completely throw me off?

I snapped my head toward her, giving her a pointed look. Rory giggled, as if she had no idea what she’d done wrong, and continued painting.

On impulse—something that had become my trademark since Genevieve entered my life—I dragged my finger through the pink on her palette and smeared it on her face.

"Dominic!" Rory rasped, freezing as if I had smeared cow dúng on her.

I mean, she already had paint on her face; what difference would one more color make?

"What?" I feigned innocence. "I thought you loved pink."

Aurora huffed and puffed in anger, reminding me that I had the cutest sister ever. When she saw my smile, her brows narrowed in a glare.

Since we shared the same last name and blood, I fully expected her to retaliate. As I saw her fingers run over the deep red paint on her palette, I didn’t even bother to dodge her attàck.

With a smug smirk and her head slightly tilted to the side, she mimicked my earlier tone perfectly, adding a touch of sass. "What? I thought you loved red."

I didn’t love red; I just liked the color and what it represented. It symbolized everything I liked, but it wasn’t my favorite color—I didn’t even have one.

Now, both our faces were stained with pink and red as we locked gazes, glaring at each other. A second ticked by before we burst into fits of laughter.

"You look good in red, though."

"I know. I like to be covered in my victím's bloód, and it happens to be red, so…" I smirked, earning a grimace and a slight head shake from her. "What?"

"You’re cràzy."

I know.

"Tell me something I don’t know."

"Cocky?"

"No, just self-aware."

"Whatever." My sister rolled her eyes again, then turned serious. "I’m serious, though, Dominic. I want you to have fun on this trip, okay? You need it. You’ve done a truly great job with everything you have right now. So loosen up, even if it’s just a little, and have fun." I hummed, letting her words sink in. "Will you do it? For me, please?"

"Sure, love." I murmured, pulling her into a hug, which she instantly returned. "Take care of yourself, and listen to our men about your safety, okay?"

"Sure, big bro."

I chuckled at the occasional nickname, then placed a kiss on her forehead. "Don’t be stubborn, Aurora; I mean it."

"Jeez, I’ve heard you."

I sure hope so.

                               ♡♡♡♡

I didn’t know why I felt anxious. Chills ran down my spine, only making matters worse.

The hoodie I wore didn’t help shield me from the unexplainable cold that clung to me. I glanced down at my phone to check if Genevieve had texted, but there was nothing.

I told her to be here before seven, and it was now a quarter past six.

I shut my eyes, looking skyward, a groan escaping my throat. A few strands of hair fell across my eyelashes, acting like bangs because I hadn’t styled my hair today.

I exhaled and opened my eyes again; there she was, standing a few feet away, staring at me with that glow in her dazzling eyes.

Those blue eyes would one day be the death of me if I didn’t stop admiring them. I tilted my head, scanning her outfit, which was quite unusual for Genevieve King.

She wore a black hoodie that read “Morally Grey” in cursive, paired with denim shorts that were mostly hidden by the size of her hoodie. And, of course, she wore ankle boots with black socks featuring little skull designs.

We were both shamélessly checking each other out, and luckily, we were the only ones around. I let out another exhale, this one mainly for self-control, as I made my way toward her.

"Good morning." Genevieve chimed like a morning bird you’d only hear on tropical islands, her voice soothing to my ears. "You look very, very handsome in casual clothes."

I had heard countless women compliment my looks, but hers was the only one that made me genuinely grin.

So yeah, it was a good morning indeed.

"Morning," I replied. "I'd say you look beautiful in that, but you already know that, don’t you?"

Her smile widened as she gazed up at me, a result of our height difference. "I do know that, but I don’t mind hearing it from Dominic Morozov himself. I happen to be a huge fan of his compliments."

A laugh escaped me, almost choking me. "You do?" She nodded. "Well then, you look beautiful in casual clothes too. I could almost say you look adorable, but I know you wouldn't like that."

"You just said it, Dominic."

"I did? When?"

"Just now."

Ah, I love this. Who would have thought one day I’d enjoy exchanging banter with a teenager I once considered a little daddy's girl?

"I don’t remember."

"You will if I hít you in the head with a rock."

"You wouldn’t do that." I responded with a confidence that made her scoff.

"You don’t know that." She shot back.

"I do."

"Says who?"

I leaned down slightly, bringing my face closer to hers and muttered, "Me. Says me."

Genevieve rolled her eyes dramatically, folded her arms across her chest, and declared, "I hàte you."

This was the second time she had said that, and each time, a strange pang of fear shot through me at the thought of it becoming true.

Because I knew, one day, she would genuinely hàte me. There would be no more smiling Genevieve King, and no more smiling Dominic Morozov.

Yeah, can’t wait for that.

Running my almost trembling fingers through my hair, I replied, "No, you don’t."

She frowned and stood on her tiptoes to stare directly at me. "Don’t be too sure."

Once again, I leaned in closer, and this time she didn’t flinch. "I am."

Most people I know would cower at the sight of me, yet she didn’t even flinch despite having witnessed my brutalíty twice.

Genevieve didn’t say anything more and walked over to the parked plane awaiting us. I glanced to my side where her car was parked and then back at her, noticing she wasn’t with her luggage.

"Vixen…." I barely got the word out when she turned around and tossed a key my way.

I didn’t catch it despite my efforts, and she shook her head disapprovingly.

"That was lame," she said.

"Whatever."

After retrieving her two suitcases from her trunk, I locked her car and wheeled her luggage to her. Upon reaching the plane, I handed them to one of the flight attendants, who quickly took them inside.

"So, I checked how long the flight will take, and it says it’s a ten to eleven hour journey," Genevieve informed me, repeating information I already knew. I nodded as if it were my first time hearing it. "That gives me plenty of time to catch up on my reading."

"Good for you."

"Yeah, I know. What will you do during those hours?" I shrugged, genuinely unsure. "You could sleep, since you will need it after we land."

I can’t sleep. Even at home, in my room, on my bed, I can’t. I’m haunted by memories I’d rather forget, so I’ve given up on sleep, only drifting off when my brain allows it. I had a feeling it wouldn’t, especially with us being in the air.

But I didn’t say that to her; instead, I nodded. "Yeah, I could totally do that."

We boarded the plane, and I immediately took my seat. I leaned back, closing my eyes, only to open them again when I noticed Genevieve was seated beside me.

"What are you doing?" 

The answer was obvious, yet I needed to know why she chose to sit next to me.

There were plenty of seats where she could be more comfortable on her own, but she wanted to be beside me.

"Sitting down," Genevieve replied with a laugh. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," I answered truthfully. "But those snacks I arranged for you over there might."

Her head turned in the direction I was looking, and when she turned back to me, a big smile spread across her face.

Her seat was only a few feet away from mine, so we could still talk and see each other throughout the flight.

"You just earned one star from me."

A star?

"I didn’t know I was earning stars."

"Neither did I."

I chuckled, and she joined in as we laughed at nothing and everything. After she settled in, she called for my attention by tossing a candy at me, which landed on my shoulder.

I glanced over at her, noticing the devilish smirk playing on her lips. "What do you want, Vixen?"

Genevieve beamed. "Nothing. Just wanted to let you know—one down, one to go."

I instantly grasped her meaning—two challenges, one completed. A smile crept onto my face as I tried to appear nonchalant, despite the fact that I was internally freaking out at the possibility of her winning this.

Silence settled between us as the pilot announced takeoff. After what felt like hours—though it was only twenty minutes—I looked over at Genevieve again. She was completely absorbed in her Kindle, lost in whatever book she was reading.

Yes, she had told me the name.

Exhaustion would be a massive understatement for what I was feeling. I knew I needed rest, especially since I had nothing else to occupy my mind, but I was scared.

Terrified, actually. I dreaded the thought of facing yet another dark, twisted nightmare that would ruin my entire day. And if my day was messed up, it would, in turn, disrupt Genevieve's day, and I didn't want that.

With a heavy sigh, I picked up a magazine and flipped through it with all the disinterest I could muster. Just then, I heard Genevieve's laughter beside me.

"Now, look who's being adorable." Her voice caught my attention again. She had moved to sit beside me once more. "You look bored."

She certainly had a knack for stating the obvious.

"I have an idea." I opened my mouth to ask what it was, but her rising from her seat halted me. I watched her as she retrieved her black headphones from her duffel bag and then returned to me, placing them over my ears. She noticed my protest before I could voice it and frowned. "This will help you sleep."

She settled back beside me, tapped something on her phone, and music began to flow into my ears. To be honest, it was quite calming; however, it wasn’t enough to lull me to sleep—it merely soothed my nerves. I couldn’t help but steal glances at her as she continued to read, tossing candies into her mouth.

"Is there something on my face?" Genevieve asked, not looking up.

"No," I replied.

"Then why are you looking at me?"

I knew the answer, and my mouth seemed eager to share it. "Because I can't take my eyes off you."

Her ocean-blue eyes locked onto mine, surprise and admiration sparkling within them. "Am I that beautiful?"

Without hesitation, I responded, "Yes. More than you know."

Genevieve's lips curved into a slow smile, and I might have unconsciously mirrored it, unable to resist. "Well, I'm glad you're here to tell me."

After that, we lapsed into silence, our eyes conveying what words could not, and I didn’t mind one bit.

My eyes were far braver than I was. They could express the things I couldn't or didn't want to articulate, and that’s why she often said my eyes revealed my desire for her.

It was true. I wanted Genevieve King more than anything I had ever desired in my life. I wanted to claim her, own her, and keep her forever.

I want to know what she tastes like. After my brief encounter in the pool, my desire has surged to astonishing levels. I want to experience how she feels beneath me and above me. I want to hear her móan my name, whether loudly or in a breathy whisper. I want to make Genevieve King lose herself in a way that mirrors my own obsession with her.

Her eyes seem to reflect the same thoughts swirling in my mind. We exchanged a glance before looking away, not daring to meet each other's gaze again until everything faded to black.

I slipped into the darkness of sleep, but it was anything but dark. For the first time in ages, when I closed my eyes, I didn’t see my family’s house.

Instead, I saw Genevieve. She was beside me in reality and in my dreams, smiling at me. I settled into the moment, trying to discern if my mind was playing tricks, but nothing ominous unfolded.

The last thing I recall before drifting away was Genevieve's sweet scent enveloping me in a gentle embrace.

TBC

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