INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 119
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Dominic ~
My eyes, which had been reluctantly focused on the office work I’ve been ignoring for—let’s be honest—the past fortnight, drifted from my laptop the moment I heard the soft creak of the stairs.
Aurora.
She descended like a silent storm, her bare feet making no sound against the polished floors, but her presence thundered through the room. She hasn’t spoken a word to me since that day. Because, as I’ve come to learn over the years, Rory can hold a grudge like no one else.
“Rory?”
Not even a glance in my direction. She didn’t acknowledge me in the slightest. Instead, she marched towards the fridge like I was a ghost, like she couldn’t even hear me. She’s directing all her rage over Blade at me—and it’s bloody infuriating.
“Rory?” I tried again, this time softer, hoping she’d just… look at me.
Still nothing. She grabbed a bottle of water and the bowl of strawberries she’d tucked away earlier, as if I weren’t standing right there.
With an irritated sigh, I shut the laptop and rose, the chair scraping quietly behind me as I made my way to the kitchen. She leaned on the counter, tilting her head back and draining half the water like she’d just crawled out of the Sahara.
“You do realise you can’t keep ignoring me forever, right? It’s senseless. I’m not Blade.”
Her silence remained intact. She tossed a strawberry into her mouth and chewed with maddening calm, her eyes blank and unreadable.
“Rory,” I drawled, patience fraying. “Come off it. I’ve done nothing to deserve this. For Christ’s sake, stop acting like I’m the villain.”
“You’re right,” she said suddenly, her voice brittle. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? Treating you like you’re him. It wasn’t your fault that he…” Her words faltered, tangled in emotion. “…that he turned out like that. I was just angry. Angry that you didn’t seem to care.”
I stared at her. “Of course I care. I care about every single person under me. Blade’s betrayal cut deep, for all of us.”
“But you didn’t show it.”
“Showing it means looking weak in front of people I can’t be weak around. I lead the Bratva. I don’t have the luxury of vulnerability.”
Her lips quivered. “It’s not just about this. It’s Ivan. It’s everything. You always bury your feelings, always know what to do. And I—” her voice cracked, “—I just wanted to be right about Blade. For once. I needed it. But I wasn’t. And, as usual, you were.”
I exhaled, slow and heavy. “What I did to Ivan… that took courage, Rory. More than I like to admit.”
“Which you have,” she snapped, eyes glassy. “I don’t. I’ve stood beside you my whole life and I still can’t look someone I once trusted in the eye and… and take their life.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“You’re only saying that because I’m your sister,” she muttered. “If it were anyone else, you’d have had them eliminated without blinking. You trained me—and I still couldn’t—”
“Aurora,” I cut in gently. I reached out, pinching her cheeks between my fingers until her lips puckered like a pouty fish. She narrowed her eyes at me but didn’t pull away.
“I trained you to protect yourself,” I said quietly. “That’s all I’ve ever needed from you. Protect yourself—for me.”
She exhaled a laugh through her nose. “Just that?”
“Yeah. Just that.”
She swatted my hand away, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. “There has to be one Morozov who isn’t a cold-hearted, emotionally stunted psychopath.”
“Unfeeling?” she repeated with a scoff. Her eyes twinkled with mischief—dangerous territory. “You? The man completely whipped by Genevieve? Please.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Because it wasn’t untrue.
“Looks like that’s the King’s little superpower, doesn’t it? Turning us Morozovs into complete saps. Bringing us to our knees?”
Aurora’s eyes widened the moment she realised what she’d said. She faltered, swallowing hard, then shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “Well… seems like you’re right.”
“I still don’t see what you see in him.”
“He says the same thing about you to Genevieve.” She plucked another strawberry and popped it into her mouth, smirking as she chewed. “Honestly, you two should just be friends. There’s no reason not to.”
“Friends?” I repeated, one brow lifting. “He doesn’t even like me.”
“Can you blame him?” she asked. “You once beat a guy half to death just for looking at me too long. Now imagine how he feels, watching the man who broke his sister’s heart suddenly waltz back into her life.”
“I had my reasons.”
“I know that,” she said softly. “But he doesn’t.”
I started to argue, but she beat me to it.
“It makes Genevieve happy, you know? The thought of you and her brother getting on.”
I blinked at her, lips parting in disbelief. “You’re using Genevieve to guilt-trip me?”
“Am I?” she said, tilting her head in perfect mimicry of mine. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, a playful frown tugging at my features as I reached out and snatched the bowl of strawberries from her grip.
She gasped—dramatically, of course—and reached to grab it back.
“Tell Everett to get you another bowl. This one’s mine.”
“Hey!” she laughed. “That’s not fair—and it wasn’t even Everett who got them. It was me.”
“Everett,” I said firmly, ignoring her protest.
The smile vanished from her face, swiftly replaced by a scowl that tried its best to look menacing. It might’ve worked, too—if not for the unmistakable flicker of mischief glinting in those honey-brown eyes of hers.
Just like when she was a little girl, she turned her head away with a dramatic huff, folding her arms tightly across her chest, a pout pulling at her lips. There was something almost comically theatrical about it, like a scene she’d rehearsed a hundred times before.
I lifted a brow at her, on the verge of saying something, when she let out a sheepish chuckle, her cheeks flushing crimson as she cringed at her own antics.
“Here you go,” I said, a laugh tangled through my words as I held the bowl out to her once more. “Wouldn’t want to choke on it under the heat of your evil glare.”
“I do not have an evíl glare,” she said, quite clearly lying.
She absolutely does. Those warm, amber-flecked eyes can turn to wildfire when she locks onto someone she wants to disappear. It’s unsettling at times. And other times? Adorably ridiculous.
“I’m a lovely girl, thank you very much. With lovely eyes,” Rory declared, lifting her chin. Then she tilted her head to the side, pride shimmering in her gaze. “And there’s not a single wicked bone in this body.”
That… that was categorically false.
“And I love you just like that,” I said, going along with it. “It’s what makes you you.” A grin broke across her face, lighting her up. “I love you—the fun, chàotic, gentle, sweet, sharp-tongued, slightly unhinged, utterly fearless version of you. I honestly don’t think I’d have made it through half of life without you. You mean the world to me.”
Her eyes glistened. Tears—not yet falling, but brimming.
“You mean the world to me too.” Her voice had softened to a near whisper, filled with quiet sincerity. “I’m sorry I lashed out. I didn’t mean to. It won’t happen again, I promise.”
“It’s alright. But… if you never act out again, who on earth is going to do it?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying you like it when I act out?”
“Maybe a little,” I admitted with a smirk. “Because if not you, then who?”
“I don’t know… maybe Genny?”
“Hmm.” I hummed, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smile.
And just like that, the two of us—brother and sister—sat together, talking and laughing. For a little while, the shadow of the Bràtva didn’t reach us. For a little while, we were just us. She even let me have some of her strawberries—only four, mind you—but considering Rory never shares her strawberries, it felt like a minor miracle.
“Before I forget,” she cut me off mid-sentence, as if something vital had just returned to her. “That bit about Everett bringing me to my knees or turning me into some lovesick sap—utter nonsénse. If anything, it’s quite the other way around, darling brother.”
“Good. No one brings a Morozov to their knees.”
“Bit late for you to say that, isn’t it?” she said, shooting me a clumsy little wink.
“I’ve no idea what you’re on about.”
“Your girlfriend might.”
TBC📖✍️
