INSATIABLE CRAVINGS
Insatiable Cravings - Episode 45
Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game}
TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.
Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
Genevieve ~
"Listen here, love, you just need to do one thing for us, and we’ll let you go right now." The fóol who was gripping my arm tightly enough to leave bruises glared at me, his eyes boring into mine as he attempted to intimidate me. All I offered in return was a bored, blank stare, which seemed to frustrate him further. "Do you need something?"
He was trying to coax me into conversation with the promise of freedom. Did he have the faintest idea who he was dealing with?
It was one thing to kidñap the Duke's granddaughter, but an entirely different matter not to recognise the significance of his captive. How tiresome.
With my arms folded over my chest, I let out a weary sigh and grimaced, giving him a thorough once-over. "Yes," I replied, my tone utterly flat.
What could only be described as a smile—or perhaps a smirk, albeit one of the most unattractive I’d ever seen—twisted his features. He lowered himself into the chair opposite mine. "Yeah? And what might that be?"
"I want to get out of this place."
"Bloódy héll!" The oaf with the deep black hair shouted, leaping to his feet in a fit of rage. I watched him pace the cramped little room where I was being held, tugging at his hair as he muttered to himself. "What a pain in the à rse."
Oh, if only he knew.
My gaze swept the room for the fourth time since I had arrived, which was now a little over an hour ago. Yes, I was counting. It was empty, devoid of anything but two chairs.
Two uncomfortable chairs, mind you.
I know this is my first experience of being kidnappéd, but I expected at least a bed. Is that too much to ask? I couldn’t care less.
"Who are you?" I asked, fixing him with an inquisitive stare as he continued his restless pacing. "If you tell me that, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know." His eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I caught a glimmer of expectation before it vanished at the sight of my smirk. "I’m serious. Ask me questions, and I’ll answer yours. Deal?"
With a resigned sigh, he relented. "Fine. Deal."
"Good." I shifted in my still-uncomfortable seat, tilting my head to the side as I awaited his response to my initial question. Instead, he merely stared at me, seemingly at a loss for words. Rolling my eyes, I shook my head in pity at his sheer stupidÃty and reiterated, "So, who are you?"
"Daniel."
A scoff escaped me at the transparent lie. Did he really think I was that gullible?
How utterly amusing of him to underestimate me.
"Daniel" rolled his eyes, and if I hadn’t been paying such close attention, I might have missed the string of expletivés that slipped past his lips. "I’m Brad."
Hmm, he strikes me as a Brad. Though, if you were to remove the "b" and replace the "d" with a "t," it would suit him perfectly.
I bestowed upon him my signature fake smile. "Genevieve. I’m Genevieve King. That aside, who sent you?"
"None of your business. How do you know Dominic Morozov?"
"None of your business. How about you búgger off?" The sight of his frown made me genuinely smile this time. "What? You forgot the deal, so I did too."
Brad let out another hiss, this one filled with even more annoyance than before, but I couldn’t care less. I knew his gún was tucked into his back pocket, so when he reached for it, I feigned a yawn, pretending to be utterly bored.
Except it wasn’t an act. I truly was bored out of my mind.
"Genevieve, there are exactly two búllets in this gun, and if you don’t start talking and answering questions, I’ll put them in you. One in your mouth and the other in your head."
I looked up at the gún aimed at me, nodded once like a good little girl, then the second I flipped my gaze, a laugh escaped me. "Oh dear, I’m absolutely terrified. Please, don’t shóot me."
I was good at everything I wanted to excel at, and poor acting was just another of my talents. Brad gritted his teeth, his face reddening to the point of explosion.
However, he wasn’t quite convinced that I didn’t fear déath, even if it were to embrace me this very instant. He flexed his finger on the trÃgger, clearly hoping to instil a sense of dreà d in me.
"Seriously, pull it."
"Alright, we’ll do this your way."
"Nice choice. Now, tell me who the bloódy héll sent you?"
"The Brazilian clan. I’m sure Dominic has filled you in; he killéd our boss."
"Fantastic!" I might have been a touch too overexcited, earning a quizzical look from him, but I was absolutely not sorry. "I mean, oh dear, that’s dréadful." I faked a tone of sarcasm, then chuckled. "Don’t worry. Since you loved your boss so much, you’ll be joining him in héll very soon."
"I need just one answer from you. Do you know where the Russian base is located here in the UK?"
"Just one question?"
"Yes."
"Deal?"
"Deal."
"Alright then. Yes, I know the location of the Russian base. Why?"
"Where is it?"
"Hah, you said one question. What, didn’t they teach you how to count in school, Brady?"
The fúry that clouded his gaze at that moment was a clear signal that things were about to go awry, and oh, was I ready. IdÃotic Brad took hold of his gún again, clicked the unlock button, and aimed it at me.
"Last chance, beautiful. Will you talk?"
"No," I replied.
Remember when I mentioned I did gymnastics as a child? Well, I wasn’t lying. Just as I saw his finger poised to press down hard on the trÃgger, I executed a flying kick aimed at his hand, causing the gún to tumble from his pathétic grip.
"What, do you need lessons on how to properly hold a gún, Brady?" That name seemed to have a particularly infuriating effect on him. It made him furious, and I wouldn’t be Genevieve King if I didn’t exploit that to my advantage.
The guñ was now lying on the far side of the room, according to my brilliant plan to make him retrieve it in order to shóot me. But just as he picked it up and turned to face me, I reached for my trusty companion hidden beneath my skirt and hurled Dominic's kñife—now mine—towards his chest.
In an instant, Brady let out a painful shout, whimpering like a child as blood dripped from his chest. I sauntered over to him, having grown tired of his pathétic attempts to grasp the gún lying just a few feet away.
"Come on, Brady. You can do it; I believe in you." I couldn’t suppress my laughter, no matter how hard I tried. The more I looked at him, the more I found it amusing. "Let me help."
Crouching down to his level, since he was busy whimpering on the floor, I picked up the gún with a small smirk. "Where do you think I should put the bulléts in you?"
It was only a matter of time before the other wrétched bloke came in and discovered his friend on the brink of déath, and I needed to be ready for him. Brady was losing more blóod with each passing second, and no matter how hard I stared at him, I couldn’t muster the humane compassion to assist him, even as his breaths grew shallower.
Dominic Morozov was a bà d, bà d influence on me. And I absolutely loved it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My thoughts were rudely interrupted as the doors swung open.
TBC
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