Insatiable Cravings – Episode 99

 

 

INSATIABLE CRAVINGS

Insatiable Cravings – Episode 99

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 

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

~ Genevieve ~

“Love?” The word tore from my throat, raw and furious. “You love me? Dominic, that’s not love. You don’t love me.”

“Don’t you f+cking say that!” Dominic snapped, his grip on my arms tightening like a vice. I winced, and he let go with a sharp hiss, as though my pàin had burned him. “Say anything else, anything, but not that. Please, not that.”

“But you said it yourself.” My voice was steady, but my chest ached with the force of unshed screams. I refused to back down. I refused to let this end without the truth. “Four years ago, Dominic. You looked me deàd in the eye and said—word for word—‘I don’t love you.’ Didn’t you?” I let out a bitter scoff, blinking hard against the tears that just wouldn’t stop. “And you said more. You remember, don’t you?”

“I—I’m s-sorry.”

Thunder cracked through the sky, a deafening roar that rattled the windows, as if the storm itself was rejecting his apology. The office lights flickered under the assault of lightning, the rain hammering against the glass with relentless fury. The air was thick, charged, suffocatiñg.

I shook my head, stepping away from the wall where he’d had me pinned. My feet carried me aimlessly across the room, but it felt as though the walls were closing in, the space shrinking with every breath I took. “You didn’t trust me. You didn’t fuckiñg trust me, Dominic!”

“Trust you?” He let out a hollow laugh, but there was no humour in it—only something splintered, something raw. “I wanted to kíll your father, Genevieve. What was I supposed to do? Tell you, ‘Oh, by the way, my love, remember how I told you I watched my parents get murderéd? Well, surprise! That’s only half the story. The real reason I came into your life was to destróy you. To breàk you beyond repair, so your father would súffer knowing his daughter was in agoñy and there was nothing he could do about it. And then—oh, and then—I planned to kíll him.’ Hmm? Is that what I should’ve said because I trusted you?”

His voice cracked, and it wasn’t just the storm raging now—it was him, too. His hands trembled at his sides, his chest rising and falling in erratic bursts. Tears streaked down his face, mirroring my own.

Pàin had wrapped itself around my heart, its grip ice-cold and unyielding. I felt like I was being hollowed out from the inside, as if at any moment, I might simply cease to exist. My fingers dug into my scalp, gripping my hair, trying to ground myself against the sheer force of my own emotions.

“Fine,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the howling wind outside. “Let’s say you’re right. Then answer me this.”

He blinked, his breath hitching. “What?”

“If time could be reversed… would you still break up with me?”

Time seemed to stretch, each second dragging like molasses. The silence between us was deafening, so profound that I could almost hear the erratic thudding of our hearts. Our gazes locked—intense, unwavering. His eyes flickered with hesitation.

Dominic was hesitating. And that could only mean one thing.

“Yes.”

The word fell from his lips, cracked and fragile, but the certainty in it remained unbroken.

I wished I hadn’t heard it. God, I wished I hadn’t asked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

This was me giving him a chance. A chance to take it back, to give me the answer I wanted to hear.

A chance to stop myself from imploding under the sheer weight of it all.

He swallowed thickly, his voice low and unsteady. “You’re hurtíng, Genevieve. This… this was what I was trying to avoid. You, like this. Crying. I never wanted this.” His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “That’s why I broke up with you, Vixen. I knew I wouldn’t be able to bear seeing you like this, so you needed to be gone. You have to understand.”

“I don’t.” More tears fell, and I felt myself shatter. “Why? Why won’t you just tell me everything? If you had, we would never have gotten here.”

“That’s not true, and you know it.” His voice snapped like a whip. His pacing quickened, his hands raking through his damp hair. “If I’d told you earlier—four years ago—you would have left me. You hàte me right now, and this… this was what I didn’t want.”

Thunder cracked outside, rattling the windows. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered for half a second, casting shadows over his face. The storm was relentless, the rain hammering against the glass in sheets, drowning out the world beyond these four walls.

Dominic scoffed, shaking his head. “Those first few days after you arrived here, you couldn’t even stand the sight of me. You couldn’t even call me by my name, Genevieve! So yeah, I would do it again, anything to avoid hurtíng you—”

“You already did!” I screamed, my voice breaking under the weight of it all. “You already f+cking húrt me.”

“You didn’t let me finish.” His voice was thick, ragged. “I meant hurtíng you more than necessary.” 

I stepped forward, the air between us charged. Right on cue, thunder roared outside, the storm mirroring the chaós inside me. 

“Please, do tell.” My voice was hoarse, shaking. “Is there any pàin, any hurtíng that is needed? That’s necessary?”

“Yes.” His answer was strained, like he forced it out. “When you want to save someone you love from something worse, sometimes… you have to húrt them a little.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“Look, Genevieve.” He exhaled sharply, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His hands trembled at his sides before he clenched them into fists. “You’re angry, and you have every right to be. But if you think I regret breaking up with you, then you’re wrong. I won’t take it back. I would break up with you over and over again because I was too scared and too selfish to witness your love turn to hatréd.” His voice wavered, something dark flashing in his golden-brown eyes. “Which it did.”

I said nothing because I had nothing to say. And even if I did, the words were lodged in my throat, stuck behind the unbearable tightness there.

“I know you. Or at least, I thought I did.” His voice softened, but the pain in it cut through me like glass. “If I had told you, it would have broken you, and in turn, you would have broken me. You would have left. You would have moved on faster than I could blink just to spite me. You would have rubbed it in my face that I had lost the only woman in my life who made me want to live and love.” His voice cracked. “You would have done that. I know you would have.”

He wasn’t wrong.

He was so f+ckiñg right. I would have done exactly that.

Except for one detail.

Everything would have unfolded the way he said—if I hadn’t already known.

But I did.

And maybe I didn’t know what I would have done back then, knowing that my boyfriend had my father on his kíll list. But I know one thing for certain—I wouldn’t have let four years pass with us apart.

I loved him too much for that.

It’s stúpid, I know. Because this man—the one standing just a few feet away, the one who confessed to all of this—shouldn’t still have a hold on me.

And yet…

Yet my heart still aches for him.

It still calls his name.

It still craves his arms around me, his warmth, his everything.

God, I am such an ìdiot.

An ìdiot.

An ìdiot.

A complete and utter f+cking ìdiot.

It’s been four years, for God’s sake.

His voice dragged me back. “I’ll take your silence as acceptance.” It was barely above a whisper, rough like gravel. If he hadn’t been standing so close, I might not have heard him at all.

“One more question.” I didn’t wait for his permission this time. “Why did you kiss her?”

His brows furrowed before he sighed. “Because you’re persistent as f+ck.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I couldn’t risk it.”

“Risk what?”

“Risk looking into your eyes and f+cking melting,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “Because I would have. I needed to make you hàte me. I needed you to leave.”

I swallowed thickly. “Then why now? Why tell me all of this? Is this… a confession? Is that what I should call it?”

“Call it whatever you want, Genevieve.” A bitter smile ghosted his lips. “All I want is for you to forgive me. For being a cowàrd. For being f+cking stupíd.” He let out a hollow laugh, like it was funny. “For still choosing to remain one.” 

It wasn’t funny. 

“Forgive you?”

“Yes.” His voice softened. “If you can.”

“And if I can’t?”

“I’ll take it.” His shoulders slumped. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

The only sound was the rain, hammering against the windows like it was trying to break through, like it felt the weight of this moment just as much as I did.

Dominic turned his back to me. One… two… three… four… five… six seconds passed.

When he faced me again, there was the smallest, faintest smile on his lips.

“You hungry? ’Cause I am.” 

“I’m not hungry,” was what I wanted to say. But before the words could leave my mouth, a violent clap of thunder crashed overhead, rattling the very walls. The sound was so deafening, so bone-shaking, that both Dominic and I flinched. A split second later, the entire building was plunged into darkness.

Blóody héll.

The sudden blackout left the room thick with shadow, the air charged with an eerie stillness. Outside, the rain lashed against the windows in relentless sheets, wind howling through the gaps like a living thing. In the dark, I heard Dominic mutter a low Russian swear word, his voice edged with something between irritation and amusement.

I fumbled for my phone, pressing the power button to switch on the torch. The screen flared to life, too bright against the sudden void, making me squint. A moment later, the torchlight cut through the darkness, casting long shadows along the walls.

And then, there he was—Dominic—bathed in the soft, bluish glow of my phone’s light. The sharp planes of his face looked gentler in this lighting, almost ethereal. I nearly smiled at the sight.

“Want some fruit?” He grinned, that maddening, signature smirk of his curling at the edges. “Or a sandwich? Maybe a hot drink?”

I didn’t respond, so he pressed on, unrelenting.

“Or all of the above?” 

“I’m not hungry.”

“That’s not one of the options.”

“Well, I’ve added it.”

“And I’ve removed it,” he shot back effortlessly. His tone was light, teasing, but there was steel beneath it. “You not eating isn’t an option. So, you’d best choose before I do it for you.”

“With what right?” I challenged, arching a brow even though I knew he couldn’t see it in the dim light.

“As your client,” he answered without missing a beat.

That caught me off guard. I hesitated, and he caught it—of course he did. His smirk deepened, the victory flashing in his storm-dark eyes.

“There will be no fainting from hunger here,” he added smugly. “It’s prohibited.”

I scowled, irritated by his little triumph. And because I’m as petty as they come, I did the only thing that made sense in the moment.

I switched off the torchlight, plunging us both back into darkness.

Then, in the pitch-black room, I said, “I’ll take whatever you make.”

TBC📖✍️

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