The Ice-Killer's Angel

Chapter 3

Pic on the side is of Xavier (couldnt resist)

Enjoy! :D

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Chapter 3

Xavier's POV

“That tie is askew; straighten it up Xavier.” My mother said and I sighed but did as I was bid even though I knew it wasn’t even an inch out of place. But my mother was inflicted with an obsessive compulsive disorder even more than I was, and it especially came out when she was nervous.

And being in the limo on the way to the biggest social event of the year wasn’t exactly helping those nerves, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from her emotionless face. Or should I say, her heavily botoxed face that didn’t allow her to express any sort of emotion any more.

My father on the other hand was cool and collected – casually sipping his scotch as he no doubt looked through business emails on his blackberry that he shouldn’t even be working on seeing as how he was supposedly ‘retired’. But he was naturally like that though. Throughout my childhood he had never expressed any sort of emotion (in the time he’d managed to part himself from his work and had come home for a few days over the year) toward me or my mother. The only time I had was when I had once caught him in the middle of fucking one of our maids.

I always wondered if he felt as emotionless as I did and whether I had gotten this defect from him rather than just his sharp green eyes and dark (neither brown nor black but a strange mix of both) hair. Why? Because I knew that though I had gotten my facial features from my mother, before she had her Botox you could always see true emotion upon her face and therefore I had not gotten this defect from just like I hadn’t gotten her blonde hair or shining blue eyes that was the only way I could read what she was feeling or how she reacted to things.

“I’m so excited! I wonder if Angie will be there as well!” I finally tuned in to what my annoyance of a ‘girlfriend’ was saying and when I turned to her, I once again had to hide the scowl off my face at what she was wearing.

Did she have to dress like a fucking slut?

The red dress she was wearing barely even covered her ass though I’m sure she thought that the sheer material that flowed from the hem would have concealed what she was so willing to show everybody, and don’t get me started on the plunge of the neckline at the front that only stopped plummeting until it hit her navel.

But there was one thing about that dress that was good. I had seen a flicker of lust in my father’s eyes and a flicker of disgust in my mothers, which meant that I would have permission to end things with her.

And only then had the night brightened just that much more.

“Who is ‘Angie’?” I asked her whilst, for some reason, picturing a chubby middle-aged commoner woman because of the horrible name. I had not heard of any Angie in her social circle – and since I had sex with all her friends, I was sure she never associated with anyone with that unfortunate name.

“I think she is talking about Angelina Rose,” My mother sighed wistfully, fingering the blue jewel necklace she had on that complimented the royal blue dress she was wearing.

Rose? Was she a relation of the Rose family or was it just a coincidence? Because surely if she were related to them, we would know everything there was about her?

I let confusion show on my face since I was slightly curious about this subject. Maybe I could use this Angelina Rose to further our relation with the Rose family, and from the wistful sigh my mother had expressed when she said her name, I knew that she had probably already thought of that, and yet again I wondered why I had never heard of this woman.