Chapter 2

630 32 3
                                    

Pic on the side is of Gennie

------------------------------------------------

Chapter 2

Xavier's POV

“Hey, you got a lighter?” I asked the blonde woman in the mink coat, her short dress underneath barely visible as she showcased her long legs for every bad guy that could come across the alleyway she was standing in.

“Well duh,” She said, taking a drag of the disgusting cigarette in her hand before she turned to actually look at me, and from her expression I knew she regretted speaking to me in that tone.

I smirked internally when her next words confirmed it.

“I…I mean, sure, here,” She rummaged in her pocket and took it out, grinning up at me as she did so, her light brown eyes glinting with hunger as she took me in.

“Thanks,” I took it from her, letting my gloved hand brush hers when I did so, before I took out my prop cigarette. “You know it’s probably not a good idea for you to be in an alleyway…especially dressed like that.”

I let my eyes wonder once again over her attire when I stated that last bit so it looked like I was appreciating the sight, but was actually once again mentally scolding her for being so stupid.

From the way she shivered though, I knew she fell for it and liked that I was appraising her so vividly.

Ah sweet vanity, you never fail to disappoint.

“Don’t worry, the restaurant I’m in with my friends is just over there,” She said barely even nodding in the direction of where I already knew her last location was, since she was too busy eye-fucking me and making me know that she was doing so.

Why was I not surprised this woman was a slut too?

Just more and more things to add to my list of why she should be on my own personal hit list. But she was already on the hit list due to my vengeance seeking nature so I guess, if I ever did start to feel remorse, the list of her misdemeanours would just help me move on from feeling guilty of eradicating her existence in this life.

“That’s good to know I guess,” I smirked at her stupidity. She had walked away from the restaurant and from anywhere people would recognise her. And now she was giving me ‘come-hither’ looks that would enable me to drag her into an even darker spot in the alleyway she had chosen. “So what do I call you?”

“You can call me whatever you like,” She grinned up at me. “But my name’s Emily Walters.”

Aka, the chick that had ruined my custom-tailored Valentino suit with champagne.

And now I was going to ruin her designer coat with her tobacco tainted, nicotine soiled, and alcohol ridden blood.

Tit-for-Tat as they say.

“Well Emily Walters…” I drifted off as I dropped my cigarette and her lighter (I didn’t take trophies), leaning my face in so it was inches away from hers, and my smirk widened when I saw her pupils dilate. “You wanna get out of here?”

She grinned, took one last disgusting drag of her cigarette before squashing the foul thing under her black death-trap heel. All before she wrapped her arms around me and planted her lips sloppily onto mine.

I almost threw up in my disgust at the contact of her foul smoke smell on me and the taste of tobacco on her thin dry lips, but I figuratively swallowed it down and allowed the interaction since it allowed me to manoeuvre her to an even less visible place than the one we were standing in.

The Ice-Killer's AngelWhere stories live. Discover now