INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 86
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Dominic ~
Guess what?
I’ve been blatantly lied to my entire life by the one person I trusted not to vanish after the tràgic démise of my beloved parents.
It was him all along, and I remained oblivious. He played the part because he found me foólish and gullible, perhaps. I nearly took the life of an innocent man—the father of the woman I love.
God!
How could I have been so stúpid, so foólish, so iñsane all these years, believing it was Kyle Walker who snatched my parents away from me?
Why did I even concoct that notion? I can’t seem to recall right now. The only name echoing in my mind is Ivan Morozov.
He erréd in taking my parents from me far too early in life. But his gravest mistake was training me to become the man I am today—the man who will relish the moment when the light dims from his eyes as the cold hands of deàth tightly embrace him.
Ivan Morozov clearly underestimates me, even after all my progress in the underworld of crime. He has no idea what I am capable of, especially not after carrying this mission in my head for over a decade.
No, seriously, it’s been twenty years since that fateful day—the day I watched bulléts tear through my parents’ bodies, blóod gushing like a crimson river. If I don’t give Ivan Morozov the same harrowing experience, then I am not Dominic Morozov, the son of Dennis Morozov.
I will kíll him, but first… I need to apologize to my girlfriend for yelling at her when she was simply concerned about me.
Do I deserve that after plotting to kíll her father? No, of course not.
I don’t, and it eats away at me just thinking about it. It torménts me to know that my actions have caused her paín.
She’s ignoring my calls and texts, and I feel sick about it, even though I initiated the conflict.
I needed help, but unfortunately, the one person who is tolerable wasn’t reachable. That left me with the only option—someone utterly intolerable.
“What do you want?” Adrianna’s voice cut through the line, sharp and immediate.
“Wow, hello to you too,” I said, forcing a grin she knows all too well to be fake. “How are you? It’s so nice of you to ask first.”
“Hahaha, look at you being funny. I don’t like that.”
“I’m not surprised. You don’t like many things.”
I could practically see her rolling her eyes in exasperation before she asked, firmer and meaner this time, “What do you want, Dominic?”
“Genevieve is upset with me and isn’t speaking to me,” I tried to explain, but she cut me off rudely.
“Oh, I am so, so surprised.” Her sarcasm was like a sharp needle, pricking my already fragile state. “What did you do?”
“Why did you just assume I’m at fault?”
“Because if Vie was in the wrong, she’d apologize. And you wouldn’t be calling.” She replied, her tone dripping with disdain. “Oh, and you’re a díck.”
Right.
How could I ever forget that she tells me that every time we see each other?
I exhaled slowly, holding back the annoyance that threatened to bubble over. “Can you help me?”
“It depends.” Adrianna retorted. “What did you do?”
I knew I couldn’t tell her the truth—she wouldn’t help me if I did. So, I cleared my throat, searching for a lie.
“Dominic, don’t conjure up a lie because you know I won’t fall for your lame excuses.” She added, her voice harsh and piercing. “You know what? I don’t care; just tell me what you need.”
A relieved smile graced my face at her willingness. “Great, thanks. Tell Genevieve to meet you somewhere, and I’ll be there instead of you.”
“Where?”
“I’ll text you.”
Adrianna groaned, then feigned cheer. “Yay.” The falseness of it was blindingly obvious. “Remember what I told you, Dominic?”
I can’t forget.
Almost two years ago, Adrianna Carrington looked me straight in the eyes and said, “If you break my sister’s heart, I will come for you.”
If she weren’t my Vixen’s sister, I would have put a bullét in her head right there. I don’t do well with threàts; I prefer to be the one giving them, not receiving. But I didn’t pull the trígger because I’m not ready to dié just yet.
And yes, I am scared of my girlfriend. You better believe it.
So, I reserved an entire restaurant for Genevieve and me to meet. The atmosphere was carefully crafted—soft, ambient lighting casting a warm glow over the elegantly set tables, the air filled with the rich aroma of gourmet dishes simmering in the kitchen. I could already envision the evening unfolding, hoping it would mend the rift between us.
Adrianna texted me that Genevieve was ten minutes away. I sat at a secluded table, the plush fabric of the chair cradling me, but I felt anything but comfortable. Each tick of the clock echoed in my ears, amplifying my anxiety as I waited.
Then, precisely ten minutes later, she walked in, exuding an aura that demanded attention. Genevieve entered like she owned the place, her dazzling blue eyes scanning the room before locking onto mine. The moment our gazes met, she rolled her eyes, a gesture that sent a pang of regret through me.
I expelled a shaky breath, shoving my worries into the darkest corners of my mind for the moment. Right now, I needed to focus on the one thing that seemed to be slipping through my fingers—the woman standing before me, radiating a mix of angér and defiance.
I moved toward her, my heart racing with each step. Thankfully, she didn’t back away, though the spark of rebellion in her eyes suggested she wanted to. I reached her, offering my best attempt at a smile, desperate to convey sincerity.
“What are…”
“Can we sit first?” I interrupted, my voice calmer than the storm brewing inside me. She frowned, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, a barrier between us. “Please?”
“I don’t want to sit. What are you doing?” Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the tasteful decorations and the soft music that played in the background, a stark contrast to the tension that hung between us. “What is this?”
“An apology,” I replied, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
“For?” Genevieve asked, her tone laced with annoyance yet oddly calm. “Which part exactly are you sorry for?”
She was looking at me, expecting an answer, her gaze serious and piercing. Her head tilted slightly, waiting for my response, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer.
I knew her too well; this was a rhetorical question.
“Is it the part where you snapped at me at the Base? Or the other part where you ignored me for three days? Or the part where you said you don’t want this relationship anymore?” Her tone was sharp, cutting through the tension in the air like a kñife. “Huh? Which one?”
I could sense the weight of her unvoiced thoughts, the things she held back that could shatter us both. But how could I make her understand that it was too late for such reflections?
I was already a broken man. My uncle—my father’s brother—was the one responsible for my parents’ deàths, and I held the evidence in my hands. Soon, I would drag her down with me, if I hadn’t already.
“Everything. I am apologizing for everything. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, and for that, I am truly sorry.”
“Sorry?” Now her anger flared like a wildfire. “If I said, ‘I hàte you and I wish you had never come into my life,’ and then told you sorry, would you accept that?”
I was left speechless, utterly taken aback. Out of everything I had anticipated her to say, that was the least expected.
“Dominic, you said you don’t want this anymore, and you think sorry can fix it?”
“What can I do then?” My voice came out strained, a plea wrapped in desperation.
“Tell me what is bothering you.” Her eyes were fierce, demanding the truth.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”
Both!
I couldn’t tell her that my only family that she knows was linked to the very man who had takén my parents from me. Infact, he is the very reason. She may have been polite with him, but deep down, her heart and soul rejected him.
Yes, she maintained a friendly façade, but that was all it was.
I also feared revealing the truth because one revelation would lead to another, and she would discover that her father was my target. She would never forgive me for that.
She would hàte me.
“Genevieve, please, let’s sit.”
She stepped back, her frustration palpable. “I said I don’t want to sit.” I blinked, surprised. “What is so difficult for you to tell me? Don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is?” When I remained silent, she snapped, “Dominic.”
“Baby, please, let’s just sit and have dinner.” My voice was laced with desperation.
“No. I don’t want to sit, and I don’t want to have dinner with someone who hides things from me and doesn’t trust me.” Genevieve’s expression was resolute, her displeasure evident.
“I trust you.” I exhaled, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “Of course, I trust you. I just… you know what, why don’t I tell you later?”
“Later?” I nodded, hoping my resolve would hold. “So, you will tell me?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise?”
Knowing I was lying, I nodded again. “Promise.” The deceit felt like a dagger to my heart. “Now, dinner?”
Genevieve studied me, her gaze lingering as if she were attempting to decipher my unspoken fears. Her eyes brimmed with questions—questions I knew I couldn’t answer.
“Please, Vixen. I am sorry. Won’t you forgive me?”
“Fine.” Her response was simple but heavy with unspoken weight.
“Fine?”
She shrugged, the gesture almost dismissive. “Yeah.” Then she sighed, a sound full of worry. “You know, I was really scared when you said that. I… I thought… I thought that…”
I cupped her face in my hands, my voice dropping to a soothing whisper, a desperate attempt to convince both of us that everything would be alright. “I really love you, like a lot a lot, so whatever you are thinking isn’t going to happen. We are stuck together, aren’t we?”
“Yeah.” Her reply was small, uncertain. “And I love you too.”
TBC
