INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 76
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Genevieve ~
Golf has always come easily to me since I first picked up a club long ago. So, you can imagine how the golfing match unfolded between me and Dominic’s uncle, Ivan Morozov.
And yes, I called him by his name. God forbid I refer to him as “uncle,” “sir,” or anything else when he hasn’t earned that title in my eyes.
After about thirty minutes of play, during which I managed to sink a hole in one five times while he only did so three, we paused for a water break.
The sky hung heavy and gray, the Russian winter air biting against my skin. While I was enjoying the thrill of outplaying Ivan, I couldn’t help but wish I were curled up in Dominic’s room, doing anything but standing out here.
Throughout our game, Ivan had said nothing, and I was more than willing to return the silence. Engaging in conversation with him was hardly enjoyable. But now, it seemed he had decided it was time to talk. I could almost see the gears turning in his mind, searching for a clever way to initiate the conversation.
He found his moment, leaning slightly closer as he asked, “What do you want from Dominic?”
Other than his love? Nothing.
Of course, I didn’t voice that. It was far too sentimental and friendly, and I had no intention of appearing cordial with him. Ivan Morozov seemed to think he could radiate intimidation and darkness, expecting me to cower in fear. I needed him to understand who Genevieve King really was.
I hummed thoughtfully, tapping my fingers against the cool metal of my golf club before replying, “What do you think I want from Dominic?”
“I don’t know, that is why I asked you.” His thick accent laced his words, harsh and commanding. “I need an answer.”
“And I need you to stop acting as if I would betrày Dominic. If I wanted to do that, I would have done it months ago.” My voice was sharper than I intended, annoyance creeping in despite my efforts to remain composed. “Dominic trusts me.”
“I don’t.”
“And you matter how?”
“I handed this business to him. I was the dón long before he could even walk.” Ivan’s fury was palpable, simmering just beneath the surface. I would be lying if I said I didn’t revel in it.
“Was is a past tense, Ivan. The past doesn’t matter, just like your opinions about me don’t matter. Dominic is the current Don, and I proved my loyalty to him long before we started dating. Don’t claim he trusts me solely because I’m his girlfriend.”
He stepped forward, closing the gap between us. I stood my ground, meeting his piercing gaze with one of my own. There was a dangeroús glint in his eyes when he said, “What if I tell you that you won’t be his girlfriend for much longer? What will you say?”
Yeah, right. The idea of Dominic breaking up with me was as far-fetched as pigs flying or the world suddenly becoming a utopia. His love for me was steadfast, able to weather the fiercest storms.
Dominic Morozov was so enraptured by me that he scarcely saw anyone else after his eyes landed on me.
He was utterly and completely obsesséd with me—this was not arrogance, merely honesty.
A smirk curled on my lips, dangerously close to the intensity in his gaze, yet mine held a daring defiance. I scoffed, the mockery evident in my tone. “I’d say you’re bluffing, or be my guest. Dominic wouldn’t break up with me just because you told him to.”
“I am his uncle. There’s nothing he values more than me.”
“Maybe he’s just grateful that you raised him after his parents’ déath. Have you thought about that?” I countered, leveling him with a glare that could challenge steel. “That gratitude could one day twist into something deàdly and unfathomable, who knows.”
Ivan’s expression shifted into one of shock, disbelief swirling in the depths of his stormy blue eyes. His voice dropped to a low, deliberate pace as he asked, “Are you threatening me, Genevieve King?”
“Am I?”
“You are utterly rude.” He pronounced the words as if they were meant to cut, as if they could turn me into the meek, submissive girl he expected.
Not in this lifetime.
I feigned a sorrowful expression, my lips forming a sad pout as I lamented sarcastically, “Oh no, this is dreàdful, isn’t it? I suppose I should change.” Then, I flashed him a bright, sweet smile. “But before that, can I go back to béating you?”
His turquoise eyes sparkled with competitive fervor as he tilted his head, sizing me up
“You’re not beating me; it’s just beginner’s luck,” he shot back, a hint of challenge in his tone.
I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and airy, a stark contrast to the tension simmering between us. “Except I’m not a beginner, Ivan.”
I stepped back onto the green, my confidence radiating like the crisp winter air around us. The scent of fresh-cut grass mingled with the chill, invigorating me as I prepared for my next shot.
With a practiced swing, I sent the ball soaring down the fairway, the satisfying thwack echoing in the stillness. It rolled smoothly toward the hole, stopping tantalizingly close to the edge. I turned to Ivan, a triumphant grin spreading across my face. “Luck? Seems more like skill to me.”
He crossed his arms, the tension in his posture evident as he assessed my reaction. The competitive glint in his turquoise eyes flickered, but there was something more—an acknowledgment, perhaps, of the fíre within me that he hadn’t expected.
“I admire your confidence, Genevieve,” he admitted grudgingly, his voice low and begrudgingly respectful. “But confidence can lead to overconfidence.”
I gave him a playful smirk, relishing the moment. “And yet here I am, still winning. Maybe it’s you who should be careful not to underestimate me.”
As I took my next shot, I felt the cool breeze whip through my hair, the winter air stinging my cheeks. The thrill of competition surged through my veins, making the game feel less about golf and more about proving a point. I could feel the weight of Ivan’s scrutiny, but it only fueled my determination.
He watched intently as I lined up my next swing, the muscles in my arms tensing with anticipation. I focused on the ball, blocking out the world around me, and with a powerful swing, I sent it soaring effortlessly into the hole.
“Another one!” I exclaimed, barely able to contain my excitement.
Ivan’s jaw tightened, but I caught a flicker of something else—perhaps respect? “You surprise me,” he said, his voice begrudgingly impressed. “You have a fire I didn’t think you possessed.”
Duh!
“I’ve had to cultivate it,” I replied, meeting his gaze with unwavering defiance. “In this world, you can’t just stand back and let others dictate your fate. I refuse to be a pawn in anyone’s game, especially not yours.”
As the wind rustled the trees around us, the atmosphere shifted. The air crackled with unspoken tension, but it was different now—less hostile, more dynamic. Ivan seemed to weigh my words, his expression shifting from contempt to something resembling intrigue.
“Very well, Genevieve King,” he said slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching in what could almost be a smile. “Let’s see how much more you can surprise me.”
There was a challenge in his tone, and I felt a rush of adrenaline. This was more than just golf; it was a battleground—a test of wills. And I was ready to play.
With each swing of the club, with every playful exchange, I was carving out my place in this world dominated by men like Ivan. I was not just Dominic’s girlfriend; I was Genevieve King, and I would not back down.
As we resumed our game, the winter sky above us began to darkened up even more, not revealing patches of blue peeking through the clouds. But it reflected the fierce determination glowing within me, darkish but unwavering. No matter what Ivan thought, I was here to stay, and I would fight for my place—and my love—against anyone who dared to challenge me.
Then, rather unexpectedly, Dominic arrived, behaving quite oddly in the presence of his uncle. It almost felt as though he wished for me to have absolutely nothing to do with the man. If I didn’t share his sentiments, I would have been quite vexed about it.
Nevertheless, we made our way upstairs, and I swiftly changed out of my golfing attire into something far more comfortable. I leapt onto the bed where Dominic was engrossed in his laptop, the soft fabric of the duvet cushioning my landing.
“What would you fancy for lunch?”
“I’m up for anything you decide.”
“I’m not familiar with any Russian dishes, though, Baby.”
Dominic halted simultaneously with me, his head snapping towards me, a mixture of disbelief and surprise etched across his features. “Did you just call me Baby!”
I did, didn’t I?
Did I sound daft when I said it? Oh, dear.
“W-well, um, yes.” Embarrassment washed over me, igniting a warmth in my cheeks as he continued to scrutinise me. “You didn’t like it? I can stop if you’d prefer.”
“Oh, no; stopping is not an option.” He set his laptop down on the nightstand beside him, and before I could register what was happening, he was so close that all I could see and breathe was him. “I adore it. I love you. Why on earth would you think otherwise?” I merely shrugged. “Well, I do. If you’re my Baby, it’s quite clear that I belong to you as well.”
I anticipated the kiss, yet I still didn’t have enough time to close my eyes before his lips brushed against mine in a gentle peck. A sigh of relief, contentment, bliss, and every other word that encapsulates happiness escaped my lips as I locked eyes with Dominic.
At this moment, everything felt perfect, impervious to any force that might try to disrupt us. Right now felt like a tantalising glimpse into the life that lay before us, and I absolutely adored it.
I cherished the man gazing at me as if I were his entire universe, as though he could not breathe without me. I utterly adored the owner of that smile, which warmed my heart and brightened my days. I was completely enamoured with Dominic Morozov, his kisses and his touch—so much so that I believed I might simply wither away without him in my life.
“I love you,” my voice trembled, and I felt the sting of tears welling in my eyes. “I love you so, so much, Dominic. I hope you know that.”
He frowned, “Did my uncle say something to upset you, Vixen?”
Did he? Yes.
Am I going to tell him that? No.
“No,”
“Are you certain? Because I can have a word with him if he did, and make him apologise. Or am I the one who’s upset you?” I shook my head, the tears not spilling down my cheeks but stinging my eyes. “Please, stop. I can’t bear to see you cry, no matter how lovely you look while doing it”
That made me chuckle, though it soon faded as Dominic cupped my face in his hands, his gaze locked onto mine. He leaned in, and just as I thought he would kiss me, he did something entirely different—he kissed my eyelids, one after the other.
Dominic pulled away just enough that we were practically breathing the same air, our noses and foreheads touching, and then he said, “I also hope you know how much you mean to me. Every heartbeat of mine belongs solely to you; every breath I take is yours. I am yours. I would say forever and ever, but even that feels like a mere blink, so I will love you for eternity, infinitely. So cast aside those troubling thoughts, my love, because you are stuck with me.”
He was doing it again—he was uttering those words that tugged at my heartstrings and nestled themselves away in my heart for safekeeping. If one day I were to wake up and find this absent, I would simply cease to exist, for that is the effect Dominic Morozov has on me.
His arms wrapped around me, and I seized the moment to straddle his lap. A small chuckle escaped him as I buried my face in his neck, inhaling his intoxicatiñg scent—he smelled divine.
He smelled like mine.
“What if I decide I don’t want to be stuck with you? What then?”
“I happen to be the head of the Bràtva, so I would simply kidnàp you and keep you locked away.”
“In a tower like Rapunzel?”
“If that’s what you want, Baby.”
“I just want you.”
“You have me,” he declared. “You will always have me.” His voice was low, yet filled with an unwavering certainty. “In whatever lifetime, I will always and only be yours, for there is simply no me without you, Genevieve.”
Then he kissed me again, but this time, his lips wandered across my cheeks and forehead, teasingly avoiding my own. He held my gaze, and I held his, both of us anticipating a kiss on the lips. He was fully aware of my desire, yet he simply smirked that signature, devílish grin that made my heart race.
“You, Dominic Morozov, are a right tease,” I told him, but I didn’t allow him a moment to respond before capturing his lips with mine. “I’m starving,” I murmured against his mouth.
He chuckled softly, his breath warm and inviting. “For me or for food?”
“Both,” I replied, a playful grin spreading across my face.
The atmosphere shifted, filled with a warmth that made the world outside fade away. In this cocoon of intimacy, I could feel the weight of our connection, a bond forged in laughter, tenderness and acceptance. His fingers brushed against my arm, sending delightful shivers racing through me as they left a trail of warmth in their wake.
Dominic leaned back slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What if I promised to cook you something delightful, but only if you promise to keep calling me Baby?”
“Deal,” I said, excitement bubbling within me. “But you must make it something truly scrumptious, or I might just have to reconsider my terms.”
“Challenge accepted,” he replied, his voice rich with playful determination. “But you might want to be careful with how you phrase things. I could very well take you up on that reconsideration.”
I laughed, a sound that filled the room with lightness, and he joined me, the deep timbre of his laughter wrapping around me like a warm embrace. In these moments, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the intoxicating connection between us.
As he pulled me closer, I nestled my head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent that made me feel safe and cherished. The quiet moments, filled with the sound of our mingled breaths, were just as precious as the kisses we exchanged. It was a language all its own, one that spoke of trust, affection, and an unshakeable bond.
“I’m so grateful for you, Dominic,” I whispered, my heart swelling with emotion. “For everything.”
He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “And I for you, Genevieve. Together, we can face anything. Just remember, I’m always here, no matter what.”
In that moment, I believed him completely. The world may be unpredictable, but within the sanctuary of his arms, I felt invincible, ready to embrace whatever lay ahead. With him, I was home.
TBC
