Insatiable Cravings - Episode 88

 

 

INSATIABLE CRAVINGS

Insatiable Cravings - Episode 88

Subtitle; {Loving You Is A Loosing Game} 

TAGS: Age-gap, Mafia, Forbidden Love, Drama, Tragedy and Betrayal.

Settings: United Kingdom, Russia and others.

By: Chukwuma Rejoice 

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

~ Dominic ~

The night draped itself in an oddly cold shroud, an unwelcome chill that seeped through my skin, wrapping around my bones like a vice. It mirrored the turmoil roiling within me, a darkness that felt as if it could swallow me whole. The air was sharp and biting, each breath a struggle against its icy grip. 

My heart raced erratically, pounding against my ribcage like a frantic drum, the rhythm quickening in anticipation of what was to come. The tightness in my throat constricted like a noose, my lungs pleading for oxygen, yet I was left gasping for air, the cold night air only heightening my sense of suffocation. 

I let my eyelids flutter shut, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. When I opened my eyes again, the sky stared back, an abyss of black peppered with faint, distant stars that felt cruelly out of reach. It mocked me, this vast emptiness, as if to remind me of the light I was about to extinguish—the light that was Genevieve. 

The sound of tires crunching against gravel pulled me from my reverie. Genevieve’s BMW, the very one I had gifted her back in Russia, glided into the driveway, and my gaze snapped to the gates. 

As she stepped out, the world around me faded, and all I could see were her ocean blue eyes, deep and tumultuous, crashing into mine. I fought to mask the turmoil churning inside me, to school my expression against the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to break free. 

"Dominic, what are you doing outside?" she asked, concern lacing her voice like a haunting melody. "It’s a bit cold for that, don’t you think?'

"I’m fine," I muttered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "I wanted to talk to you about something."  

"Something that can’t be talked about inside?" Her brow furrowed with curiosity and concern, bobbing slightly as she processed my words. "Alright. Go ahead."

"I want this to be over."

"What exactly do you mean by this?"

My heart thundered in my chest, a painful reminder of the weight of my words. It felt as though it was breaking all over again, each beat echoing the despair I dared not show.

"Us," I replied, the word hanging in the air like a guillotine poised to drop. "I don’t want a part of this anymore."

In the span of heartbeats, her face morphed from confusion to hurt, then back to confusion, each transition slicing through me. "W-what do you mean? What are you saying, Dominic?"

Her voice trembled, cracking under the weight of my declaration, and it twisted something deep within me. The knowledge that I was the architect of her paín was a bitter pill to swallow, one that lodged paiñfully in my throat. 

"I’m saying what you’re hearing, Genevieve. I’m sick of this—sick of pretending to enjoy this relationship. Sick of being with you." The disbelief in her eyes was a dagger to my heart. "So yeah, let’s end this."

She stepped closer, and I fought the instinct to retreat, to shield myself from the undeniable gravity of her presence. I needed her to see the facade I had woven, the conviction I was trying to project. 

"Dominic," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "Is there something wrong? You know you can talk to me if everything isn’t fine. So please, tell me, what is going on, Baby?"

No, not the nickname. Please, spare me that. 

Her delicate hands cradled my face, warmth radiating from her palms, a sensation I knew I would ache for long after this moment. "Please, talk to me," she urged, as if she could read the tormént that clawed at my insides. "What is it?" 

Tears threatened to spill, the raw, aching paiñ in my chest making it hard to breathe. I fought against the wave of emotion, determined to maintain my façade, knowing that to show weakness would unravel everything.

Reluctantly, I turned my head away from her tender touch. The húrt that flickered in her eyes was a flame I had ignited, and I struggled to suppress the urge to extinguish it. 

"What don’t you understand, Genevieve? I said, I’m tired. I’m done with you." 

"Done with me? What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly what it says." My voice deepened, the indifference I projected hard to sustain as I fought against the tumult within. "I don’t want you anymore. Can’t you understand English?"

Be harsh.

Be cruél.

Be anything but weak right now. 

"Dominic," she whispered, her voice trembling as if each word was a fragile glass ornament on the verge of shattering. "I don’t understand. What do you mean by you don’t want me anymore? Did… did I do something?"

The desperation in her eyes twisted the kñife deeper, but I steeled myself, summoning every ounce of resolve I could muster. "You really don’t get it, do you? You’re just so… pathetic sometimes. Always clinging, always needing validation. It’s exhausting."

The lie felt like poisón on my tongue, yet I forced it out, reveling in the way her face fell, the color draining from her cheeks. Each word was a calculated strike, designed to sever the tenuous connection we had left. "You think I can just pretend anymore? Pretend that this is anything but a burden?"

Genevieve stepped forward, and I instinctively recoiled, retreating as if her touch were a live wire. The space between us felt like a lifeline, a fragile barrier that kept my world from collapsing. 

"If I did something, then I am sorry. We can talk this out. Let's talk it over." Her fingers closed around my arm, warmth radiating from her grip, a stark contrast to the cold dréad coiling in my gut. "We are not like this." 

I ripped my hand away with a force that nearly sent her stumbling. "God, of course we are not like this. We are not like anything because I never liked you in the first place. Everything was just a big scheme to get you, because I was bored. You were a distraction, presented to me on a silver platter. I couldn't resist, but now..." I paused, the air thick in my lungs, almost suffocatiñg me. I forced my gaze to her, feigning disgúst while my mind captured her image, each detail imprinted like a photograph. "Now, I am done."

"You don't mean that."

"I do. You're insàne if you think I want anything to do with you anymore."

"And you're insàne if you think I believe you. Something is wrong, and you're not telling me. I don't get why." Her hand reached for mine again, and though I saw it coming, it was too late to pull away. "My love, please tell me what is wrong. Talk to me, please, Dominic. You can tell me anything; you know that." 

No, I can't share anything with her. I can't confess that if Ivan hadn’t been my parents' kíller, I would have takén her father’s life myself. Yes, despite the love I have for Genevieve, I wouldn't hesitate eñding Kyle Walker’s existence the moment I laid eyes on him. 

And in doing that, I would shatter her. The thought of inflicting that kind of paín on her was unbearable. She would hàte me for it, and deep down, I knew she would find out the truth—because she is Genevieve King. I can withstand every tormént life throws my way, but her hatréd? That would be my undoing. 

The very notion of seeing loathiñg in her enchanting blue eyes instead of love was a hauntiñg specter. I was tormentéd, plagúed by thoughts that consumed me whole. Yet, I couldn’t do this to her. I couldn’t allow her to remain entangled with a man who would think nothing of killiñg her father, even as I knew how deeply she loved him. 

"Anything?" I asked, my voice steady as I fought to suppress the whirlwind of emotions within. She nodded, her thumb gliding over my arm, and I fought to mask the shiver it sent through me. "Anything at all?" Her eyes sparkled with hope, and I saw the expectation etched into her features. "Get out of my life." 

Her breath hitched, and I watched as tears brimmed in her eyes. Paín, confusion, and desperate longing played a heartbreaking symphony across her face, each emotion more prominent than the last.

I can't do this.

I can't do this.

But I did. I opened my mouth, allowing the jagged, hurtfúl words to spill forth. "I know it’s hard to believe, but you are nothing to me. If you think otherwise, it means my plan worked perfectly. Like I said, I was bored out of my mind, looking for a distraction, and you presented yourself. You are nothing but a fuckíng pastime—a wrétched one at that." 

"You are lying. You don't mean that." Genevieve shot back, her voice sharp, cutting through the lies I spun. "Why are you doing this, Dominic? Something is clearly wrong; just tell me." 

"The only thing wrong here is you—us." I paused, letting the weight of my words settle in the air, desperate for a breath that felt like a luxury. "Is there even an 'us' if none of it was true? I don’t like you, Genevieve, let alone love you. Why the héll would you think you are worthy of me? You’re just a kid, and you were fun to mess with, but not anymore. I am bored again, and this time, it’s because of you." 

A single tear fell from her eye, and I watched her stumble back, almost losing her balance. My instincts screamed to reach out, to catch her, but I forced myself to remain still. 

"You suffócate me. The more I try to pretend that keeping up this charade isn’t suffocatiñg, the more stifliñg you become. God, Genevieve, is it so hard for you to—" 

"So, you don’t love me anymore? Oh, wait... you never did, right?"

"Yes, you're right about that," I confirmed, each word feeling like a daggér slicing through the air between us. 

"It was all an act?"

"Yes." 

"Everything?" Genevieve stepped closer, the space between us dwindling to mere inches. Her intoxicating scent enveloped me, a sweet mixture of cherry blossom and something uniquely hers, while her gaze ensnared mine with an intensity that felt almost palpable. "From the night we met to that morning on my school's rooftop, right until now? Everything was false, hmm? The friendship, the moments we shared, the touches, the kisses, the words spoken, the promises made... everything was fake? You were pretending all those times?"

Tears streamed down her cheeks, each drop a piercing reminder of the hurt I was inflicting. God, I was a fool—so utterly foolish to think I could sever our bond so quickly, retreating into the shadows of my room to wallow in the darkñess. 

"The times when you tucked my hair behind my ear, when you looked at me like I meant something to you. Those moments when you held me so close, kissing me so passionately on my lips or my forehead. Those nights we spent together, curled up in each other's embrace... were all those false? The times you cooked for me, prepared my favorite strawberry milkshake? The moments I caught you staring at me—were those times fake too?"

My tongue felt like lead, heavy and unyielding. Saying yes would shatter her, but not denying the truth felt like a betràyal to everything we had experienced together. It was agonizing to reduce the depth of our connection to mere nothingness.

"Dominic, please, tell me—were they all false? Was I merely seeing what wasn’t there, hearing what wasn’t said, feeling what wasn’t thrown at me, huh? Was I?"

"Yes." I licked my lips and sidestepped her, creating a chasm between us. I could see the húrt ripple across her face like a wave crashing against the shore. "Everything you mentioned and more was fake. They were all fake." Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, as if the heavens themselves were rebuking me for my lies. "And I am tired of pretending to be okay with it."

Genevieve shook her head, her steps slow and deliberate as she closed the distance I had created. "You can't do this to me, to us. We... I love you so much. You love me too, right?" She stood before me, cupping my face with trembling hands, tears spilling down, staining her beautiful features. "Dominic, you love me... right? Please, don’t do this. Don’t destróy what we have. Please, let’s..."

If I lingered here any longer, I would crumble. I would take it all back, and we would be fine, but could I truly live with myself after that? 

"Let’s do nothing. Get out of here before I summon the guards or, worse, the dogs." As I uttered those words, she shook her head, inching even closer. "For a king, you are so pathétic. Aren't kings supposed to have some semblance of self-respect?"

Her brows knitted in disbelief, the shock evident as she took a step back. I knew Genevieve well; she wouldn’t tolerate anyone tarnishing her family name.

"Get out."

In an instant, her emotions seemed to flicker out, like a candle snuffed by the wind. The tears ceased to flow, her expression shifting from sorrow to a chilling indifference. "I should get out? Fine, but only after one thing."

"And what is that?"

"Tell me." Her words hung in the air, audacious and daring—a challenge I could hardly ignore. "I want to hear it from your mouth. If you say it, I will go, and you will never see my face again."

No.

Isn’t this what you wanted?

I gritted my teeth, battling the storm within me. The very words she sought were suffocatiñg, yet I couldn’t allow her to see my hesitation. So, I did what I had done all along—I lied. "I don't love you."

"Again."

No, she couldn’t force me to utter that again. The mere thought of it felt like a daggér twistiñg in my chest.

Ignoring the paín that clawed at my heart, I managed to repeat the lie, though each syllable felt like acid on my tongue. "I don't love you, Genevieve. I never did. Now please, get out of here."

"Again."

Añger boiled within me; she simply couldn’t do this. "I’m sure you don’t mind saying it again, right?" she challenged, her tone laced with sass, refusing to back down.

Suddenly, the sky chose that moment to unleash a torrential downpour, transforming the chilly night into a tempestuous downpour that matched the turmoil in my heart.

Genevieve stood before me, her blue eyes shimmering like gemstones under the darkened sky, even as raindrops soaked her messy bun and cascaded down her cheeks. The rain began to drench me as well, but my focus remained solely on her.

Her defiance, her "agains," and the relentless rain were a dangerous cocktail, stirring the fury brewing within me. With a swift motion, I wrapped my fists around her forearms, pulling her closer, careful not to hurt her despite the rage coursing through my veins. 

A gasp escaped her lips, and in that moment, I could have devoured her whole. Her mouth, wet and so achingly kissable, beckoned me, but I forced my gaze to stay locked with hers, unwilling to surrender to the desire that threatened to consume me.

"Genevieve, I don't love you. I’ve had my fun with you, and now I’m done." My words came out sharper than I intended, a bark of laughter escaping my lips that held no mirth. "It’s almost laughable, isn’t it? To think you spent so long believing I felt anything for you. Why would I? There are countless beautiful, remarkable women in this world. Why on earth would you think I would want you? Come on, Baby, were you really that delusional." 

If she was húrt by my words, she showed no signs of it. Instead, she simply nodded, her resolve unwavering as she pulled away from me, distancing herself with a quiet dignity that only fueled my añger further. 

"Well, I guess that’s goodbye now, huh?" Her voice was steady, devoid of the emotion that had just moments ago threatened to drown us both. She didn’t wait for a response. Without a second glance, she turned and walked away, the very essence of grace and heartbreak. 

The keys to her car clattered to the ground as she tossed them toward me, a final parting gift that felt more like a curse. I stood rooted to the spot, watching her retreat through the gate, each step she took carving an unbridgeable chasm between us

This is it, huh? It’s the end, right? The emptiness that settled in my chest became a void, one that echoed with the weight of what I had lost.

I felt the rain drench me to the bone, the coldness seeping into my skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill that had taken residence in my heart. She was leaving, and I was letting her go. The realization struck me like a thunderbolt—this was my choice, and yet the ache of regret gnawed at me, relentless and unforgiving. 

I wanted to call out to her, to beg her to stay, to take back every cruel word I had hurled like daggérs. But the person I had tried so hard to be would not allow such vulnerability. I was trapped in a fortress of my own making, and she was the only one who held the key to its gates. 

As the rain continued to fall, I stood there, a solitary figure in the storm, torn between the power I wielded and the love I had so carelessly cast aside. For the first time, I felt the weight of my own decision, heavy and suffocatiñg, and I realized that I had sacrificed something far more valuable than I had ever anticipated. 

TBC

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