INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings – Episode 97
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
~ Genevieve ~
“I can’t believe you’ve been back all this time without telling me,” Mum said, her voice thick with exaggerated disbelief.
I forced myself not to roll my eyes and simply replied, “It’s only been five days.”
That only seemed to make things worse. Her eyes widened, the surprise and a flicker of hurt unmistakable. “Five days?” she murmured, almost to herself. “And you weren’t planning to come and see me and your dad?”
Now I felt bàd.
That awful, prickling guilt started in my chest, spreading through my limbs like an ache, leaving me cold with goosebumps—or chills, or whatever the héll it was.
“I’m sorry. I was busy,” I said, shifting my gaze away from her and looking around the house I grew up in. A faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “I admit I should have come sooner.”
I missed this place.
Isn’t it strange how you have to leave somewhere for a long time before realising just how much you miss it?
The house I once refused to call home suddenly felt like one. Everywhere I turned, I was ambushéd by memories flooding my mind—some good, some bàd, but all vivid.
The small smile on my face grew into something more genuine when my eyes landed on a photograph. A picture of me, taken the Christmas I got my first Kindle.
Adrianna had given it to me. Even now, it remained one of my most prized possessions. I had clung onto it even after it broke—that’s how much I had loved it.
“You were so happy that day. You didn’t stop smiling the whole time,” Mum said, her voice startling me. I had momentarily forgotten she was still there. “I still remember it like it was yesterday.”
Except it wasn’t yesterday.
It was fifteen years ago. An entire fifteen years.
“The Kindle was one of the best gifts Ria ever gave me,” I admitted, my words as true now as they had been then.
Mum fell silent for a moment before saying, “You know, she wanted to get you an iPad instead. She thought it would be better—what’s that app called again?” She paused, her brows knitting together. “Ah, Wattpad. She thought you’d like it because you could read on it, download other books, and play games too.”
I frowned. If Adrianna had planned to get me an iPad, how had I ended up with the best gift I’d ever received?
The answer came quicker than I expected.
“I convinced her otherwise,” Mum said, so casually, as if it didn’t mean anything at all. “A Kindle was easier to carry around for a little girl who couldn’t stop reading, no matter where she was.”
So, it had been her idea all along.
I had thought she didn’t know me at all. Yet, here was proof that she did. She had known how much I loved reading and had made sure I could do it as easily as possible.
“Why didn’t you just give it to me yourself?”
“You wouldn’t have liked it if it came from me.”
That was true.
“That’s not true,” I said automatically.
Mum tilted her head, unconvinced. “You know it is,” she countered, her voice firm. “You hated me. You still do. That’s why you didn’t come to see me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t,” I told her. “I don’t hate you.”
She didn’t look convinced. In fact, if anything, the doubt in her eyes only deepened.
She was still staring at me, and I was still lost for words when Dad walked in from the kitchen.
“Are we having a staring competition?” he asked, amused but genuinely curious. “What’s going on?”
I turned to him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me Mum was the one behind the Kindle?”
“What Kindle?”
“My first Kindle, Dad.”
“Oh, that.” He frowned in thought, and after a solid ten seconds, something seemed to click. He hummed. “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t my secret to share. It was between a mother and her daughters.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” I muttered. “I should have known that Mum…”
I froze.
I had just called her Mum.
Oh, God. I had actually said it in front of her.
How had I let that slip? I only ever referred to her as “Mum” when she wasn’t around—never to her face.
In my defence, I had got carried away. That was just how I spoke about her to Dad when we talked.
“It shouldn’t have been a secret, that’s all I’m saying,” I added hastily.
Dad sat down beside me on the sofa. “If you’d known it came from your mum, you wouldn’t have valued it as much as you did. And still do.”
Wow. He thought so too?
That almost made me feel like a bàd daughter. But this wasn’t entirely my fault. How had they expected me to cherish a gift from someone who had barely been around?
“Are you staying the night?” Mum—Mariah King—spoke up, changing the subject and mercifully cutting through the awful tension thickening the air.
“Yeah, that was the plan,” I admitted. “I brought a change of clothes for tomorrow. I’m too tired to drive back.”
“Oh, good.” She nodded. Then, after a pause, she asked, “Where are you staying, by the way?”
Without hesitation, I replied, “Liam’s place.”
“Oh,” Mum’s face lit up with a smile—far too bright for my liking. “You and Liam…” Her tone was laced with implication, a suggestion that was completely, utterly, one hundred percent untrue.
“No,” I said flatly.
“No what?” She tilted her head, feigning innocence. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You did, though.” I folded my arms. “Liam and I are just friends, okay? Just two normal friends who care enough about each other to offer a place to stay. That’s all.”
“If you say so,” she mused, still far too pleased with herself. “Shame, really. You two would make a lovely couple.”
I don’t like lovely.
“I don’t like him like that.”
Dad, who had been quiet until now, decided to interject. “You don’t like anyone like that.”
I turned to him, stunned by the betrayal. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
He simply shrugged. “You’ve never been in a relationship. Not once.”
Before I could fire back, Mum added, “You know, I think she might not be straight.”
My head snapped towards her so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. “I am straight.”
“It’s fine if you’re not,” she said with a casual wave of her hand.
“Yeah, we wouldn’t judge,” Dad added, going along with her absurd theory. “It’s completely okay if you’re into girls.”
I inhaled slowly, then exhaled just as deliberately, glancing between the two of them. “I am, unfortunately, into men.”
Women seem much easier to be in relationships with. People who fancy women are so lucky.
“But you posted something on Instagram a few years ago,” Mum recalled, narrowing her eyes as if searching her memory. “‘I kissed a girl, and I liked it’—wasn’t that the caption?”
Oh. That.
I remembered it now.
“It was a picture of me and Cora,” I explained, addressing Mum more than Dad. “I was dared to kiss whoever was next to me, and it happened to be her. Someone took a photo at the exact moment, and I liked how it turned out, so I posted it. Nothing more.”
That kiss—less than twenty seconds, over before it even meant anything—still left me feeling like I’d cheated on Dominic. Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t mine. Hadn’t been mine for a long time.
And yet, after all these years, I still couldn’t be with anyone else.
Not for lack of trying.
My heart wanted him, and yes, I knew how pathetic that sounded. But the heart wants what it wants.
No one ever said you had to give it what it wants, though.
“So, no girls?”
“No, Dad.”
“Then why haven’t you been in a relationship?”
I hesitated. My mouth twitched. My body screamed at me to keep quiet.
But then—
“I have,” I admitted.
Mum’s eyebrows lifted. Dad leaned forward slightly, intrigued.
“With who?” Mum pressed.
A sigh escaped me, an obvious warning sign I should have heeded. But before I could stop myself—before I even realised what I was doing—
“Dominic.”
Oh, for f+ck’s sake.
Mum perked up, delighted. Dad, on the other hand, looked like someone had handed him a particularly complicated puzzle.
F+ck. No.
“Which Dominic?” he asked slowly.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
I could’ve kept my mouth shut for once in my life. I should have.
But, of course, I didn’t.
So, with an air of absolute resignation, I muttered, “Dominic Morozov.”
Confusion flickered across their faces in eerie synchrony, as though they were telepathically linked. But within a heartbeat, the bewilderment twisted into something far darker—rage.
Dad spoke first. “When?” His voice wavered, tight with the effort of keeping himself composed, though the simmering anger beneath was unmistakable. The way he said it—so characteristically ‘Dad’—made my stomach twist. “When did this happen?”
“Um.” I hesitated, the weight of unspoken words pressing against my tongue. My seat suddenly felt too hot, too stiff, but I forced myself to remain still. “Over five years ago.” A pause. Then, hastily, “Actually, make that six.”
Mariah King did not look remotely pleased, despite the fact that she had asked for this information. Not even slightly.
“Isn’t he thirty-eight?” Dad voiced the very question written across her face.
“Thirty-five,” I corrected swiftly, compelled by the need to be precise. “We… started dating when I was nineteen, and he was twenty-nine. It lasted for a year and a half.”
I had never seen my dad this furious. His face darkened, blotched with anger, his lips pressed so tightly together they turned pale. He looked as though he was a mere breath away from exploding.
“Dated? As in past tense?” His question might have been rhetorical, but I still nodded.
“Who broke up with whom?”
Hesitation.
More hesitation.
A hard swallow before I muttered, “Does it matter?”
“Of course it does,” Mum snapped, her anger not directed at me, but at the situation itself. “How else would I know whether or not to rúin his life?”
Tempting as that sounded, I didn’t want that. The punishment he had inflicted on both of us was already enough.
So, I let my tongue dart out, wetting my lips before uttering the lie. “I broke up with him.”
“Oh.” Dad seemed satisfied with that. “Why? Did you finally realise he was a bit too old for you?”
“No. It just… happened.”
Another lie.
“Why did you keep it a secret?”
I glanced at Mum, her expression unreadable. “It was better that way. The less the media knew, the more private it was.”
“That’s great, love, but I was talking about the family. Why didn’t you tell us?”
Admitting that Adrianna, Xavier, Jules, and Alessio all knew would not go down well.
“I thought… I thought—” The realisation struck me like a brick to the chest. I didn’t need to lie about this one. “I thought you wouldn’t accept it. So I hid it.”
“That is…”
Mum opened her mouth, but Dad cut her off so seamlessly that it barely felt like an interruption.
“Love, I think we should let her rest. We can talk about this over dinner, yeah?”
“Sure.” Mum exhaled, softening just enough to offer me a small smile. “You can go up to your room. It’s been tidied.”
✷✷✷✷
I had managed to push the memory of yesterday aside—the slap, the argument—until the moment my feet crossed the threshold again.
The team was already there, working swiftly, and I was grateful for their efficiency. The faster things moved along, the sooner I could leave.
Anything that might prolong my stay was unwelcome. It needed to be avoided like the plague.
Speaking of things to avoid, ‘Love’ was the first person I saw when I stepped off the lift onto Dominic’s floor. No surprises there. Her entire focus was on her laptop, fingers tapping out a rhythm on the keyboard, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
From this angle, her side profile was effortlessly elegant, irritatingly so. It was infuriating when you disliked someone yet couldn’t deny how annoyingly stunning they were.
Her dark hair, cut into a sleek bob, framed her face perfectly. She was so gorgeous it was almost paiñful. Even that Rory—she was blóody beautiful too.
I hatéd it.
“Staring is rude, Genevieve.”
I started at the sudden sound of her voice. She turned her head towards me, tilting it slightly, a smug smile playing on her lips. “You know, you could just take a picture—it’d last longer.”
“Not interested.”
“That’s not what your eyes were saying.”
I rolled mine. “Brilliant deduction. You some kind of mind-reader?”
“In this case? Absolutely.” She cast a deliberate once-over at me. “Nice dress.”
It was a red, off-shoulder, mid-length number, paired with my simple boots—the ones without the chains. My hair fell in loose waves down my back.
“Thanks,” I replied, my smile all saccharine falseness. “Your outfit’s nice too.”
Unfortunately, that wasn’t a lie. ‘Love’ wore a crisp white button-up, tailored so well it looked as if it had been made just for her, paired with black trousers and matching heels.
For a second, she actually looked surprised that I had complimented her. Her gaze flicked down at herself, then back up.
“Thank you?”
“Is he in?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
Yesterday shouldn’t have happened. I should have had better control over myself. And I would have—if only he weren’t such a relentless pàin in the arse.
But I wanted to make it right. I was better than this—better than holding onto the past like a petulant child.
And then, maybe, I could finally convince myself to move the fúck on from Dominic Morozov.
“You know,” ‘Love’ mused, “if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried about him.” I hatéd the way she said it—like she knew she wasn’t wrong. “Hmm. Fascinating.”
I said nothing. She said nothing else either.
A moment of silence stretched between us—charged, weighted—before I blinked and broke the tension.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Maybe because I don’t want to.”
God, I do not like her.
••
Dominic still wasn’t back. I knew that because my stúpid self wouldn’t stop glancing at the door, half-expecting him to walk in.
The decision to stop acting like an idiót took longer than it should have, but when I finally made it, I stuck to it. I focused on my team’s work instead.
Everything was going smoothly—until my phone buzzed.
A glance down. A message.
Liam – Dinner tonight at nine?
I smiled before I could help it. Liam was easy to be around—funny, flirtatious, a perfect distraction.
Me – Sure!
Me – Where?
Two seconds of waiting. My patience was wearing thin, but then—typing bubbles.
Liam – It’s a surprise.
Me – Hmmmmm.
Liam – What?
Me – Nothing. Can’t wait.
Liam – Me too!
I was about to reply when—bam! I walked straight into a solid chest.
I gasped, the impact nearly knocking me backwards, but before I could fall, strong hands gripped my waist, steadying me.
Dominic.
This could be seen as both a good and a bàd thing.
The good? I didn’t fall, and my phone was still safely in my hand.
The bàd? Well, in case you’re curious…
The bàd was that my ex-boyfriend’s arms were wrapped securely around my waist, and our gazes were locked, unwavering.
It was paiñfully obvious that neither of us wanted to break the moment—especially Dominic. But I was an adult, and there was something about doing the ‘right thing’… blah, blah.
If I weren’t an adult, if I didn’t want him to súffer for breaking my heart the way he did, I would lean in. I would kiss him—slow and hungry, sensual and intoxicating.
Oh, I would kiss those maddeníngly kissable lips until he was nothing but a breathless mess in my arms, just like before. I would kiss him senseless, until his knees gave way, until the only name he could whisper was mine.
I could do it right now. But, you know… self-control. Very adult of me.
“Hey.”
His voice had its usual depth, but this single word came out rough, thick with something unspoken. In the depths of his dazzling amber eyes, I saw it.
Longing.
He wanted me.
He still does.
He always has.
“Hi,” I replied, casual and light, as if I hadn’t just undressed him in my head. My voice was calm, clear, unaffected.
I stepped back, forcing his arms to drop away from me. But even with the contact broken, the tension still clung to the air between us.
“You… your scent…”
Ah. He’d noticed. The way I smelt, the way I had always smelt back then. The perfume he loved. The one I’d chosen to wear today.
Why?
Go on, take a guess.
“Oh, that. Yeah, I went home, so…”
“Right.” Dominic seemed at a loss for words, his usual composure slipping into something almost endearing—awkward, uncertain. “I… I’ll… go.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
I turned on my heel, watching as he hurried away.
So—did you guess right?
TBC📖✍️
