Rich Boys

"Oh Sweetie don't you know- Rich Boys - Don't Have Hearts."

—

Angelique wrapped her fingers around her venti latte as they sat in Starbucks. Her long legs were crossed and her elbows pressed against the tabletop "The president told me not to get burnt. What does that mean?"

"It mean stay out of the way of Asher Roosevelt. It's a warning everyone new gets." Jace shrugged his shoulders casually, his formal jacket draped around the back of his chair.

"Asher." She narrowed her eyes, tasting the bittersweetness of the simple name on her tongue. It somehow sounded more alluring from her, the way her lips moulded seductively to form it.

The eldest son of late Ezekiel Roosevelt and Sélène Delisle.

Her eyebrows creased slightly as she remembered her mother saying something about how much of a well mannered good son he was.

"I don't know why she does it, though," Edward frowned, a small pleat between his eyebrows as he locked his gaze on Angelique's with a pout warping his lips down "He's a really good person, you know?"

How manipulative.

She felt the warmth from her latte soak into her long fingers as she suppressed another eyeroll "I think this Asher guy and I will get along just fine."

"That's the spirit." Edward grinned. His blue eyes glinting in the bright lights as he shot her a supportive glance making her expression morph into sheer amusement.

"Serious, Angel. Don't do it." Lauren spoke, cutting through the two mouthwatering buttermilk pancakes on her plate, served with a topping of very berry compote.

Angelique took a sip of her latte before rolling her eyes and leaning back, a small smug smirk playing on her lips as she glanced back at a teenager near their table who was very openly staring at her.

Angelique Arcane was veryly, a sight to behold.

When his eyes widened, she suppressed a giggle and dragged her gaze back to Lauren "You do realize you're only sparking my curiosity by saying that, right?"

"He is the male version of you. Fighting with him would literally lead to world war three."

"Come on, Lauren she said they'll get along just fine." Edward's eyebrows raised, mouth slightly parted, looking like a clueless, innocent angel between the small cluster of demons as he bit his caramel waffle.

"Sarcasm, Ed. That was sarcasm." Jace provided.

"I see it now. Your JJ is smart. Like smart enough not to get you pregnant and mess with uncle Eric."

Edward shrugged, "I don't think it's gonna be a big deal. People here generally get pregnant before marriage."

The sentence extracted a light chuckle from Angelique parted lips "Oh I know. Procrastination should be learnt from my parents. They got married when I was five."

"She was a mistake."

"No doll, I was a surprise. Like I just popped out of my mother's-" she abruptly stopped speaking, her red Chanel clad lips pressed tightly as she glanced at Edward.

Jace watched her with amusement hidden behind green eyes "You do realize he has slept with more girls than you can count on both hands and feet, yes?"

"If you're tying to make me feel less guilty, it's working."

"Hey Angelique, can you please not fight with Asher then? I love mother nature like my own mother."

"Edward, I almost feel bad." Angelique placed a hand on her heart, turning her head as her long hair shuffled from her shoulders to tumble straight down her back "You're so sweet. Whatever are you doing with these demons?"

"My girlfriend is not a demon. My babygirl is kind, okay?" Jace defends Lauren, hooking an arm around her waist and pulling her closer, causing her to giggle.

Angelique's eyes vaguely narrowed as she wondered if it was a sexual innuendo.

Nah, probably just my dirty brain.

"Lauren and kind. Right. I totally have to agree on this." She rolled her eyes, lips perked up in a little smile.

"Hey! That was sarcasm, right?" Edward's eyes gleamed as he grinned.

"Oh my. Am I spoiling him, aren't I?"

—

Students twisted their necks to catch a glimpse at her. But Angelique wasn't unnerved at all. She was used to the attention. The feeling of being idolised yet cursed by green eyed jealousy.

Her mind was focused on the picture in her slender hand as she stood by her locker, burning eyes emphasized on it. The family photo.... the last photo she had with her whole family. Taken just a couple of hours before her parent's successful suicide attempt.

She sighed, licking her cherry lips before slipping the polaroid between the leaves of her novel, 'Macbeth' by 'William Shakespeare' and secured her locker, gliding out of the campus on expensive mary jane adorned feet.

In this modern world, Angelique Arcane was a sucker for classics.

With a slight, natural sway of her hips and clicking of her Stuart Wietzmen heels, she headed to the parking lot. A small, elegant smirk warped her strawberry lips as she detected all eyes on herself.

They worshipped her and she savoured it. Loved it. Demanded it.

Angelique was confident, just as a lioness. And a lioness is a lioness. Even in a cage. Even in silk.

She reached the deserted parking lot of Crowndale, attempting to extract her iPhone from her Gucci bag while strutted down the fleet of stairs by the entrance.

But she didn't get the opportunity to complete her task as she dashed into a hard wall.... a wall with light, masculine cologne.

She slightly scowled as her book fell on the pavement and a small tug on her lips represented a beautiful frown.

Her eyebrows marginally furrowed as she glanced up to gaze at the most handsome man she ever had the pleasure of laying her eyes upon. Asher Roosevelt. The name rang in her head. Armani's brand ambassador with black hair, sinfully mesmerising stormy gray eyes and a strong jawline. A light stubble royally enwrapped his sharp jaw. He could put greek gods to shame.

"Can you at least watch where you're going?"

His gray eyes widening a fraction as he raised an eyebrow. He had a reputation. He was the guy no one messed with. Asher stood upright as ever, planting his hands into his pockets, his head vaguely tilting to the left side and gaze perforating right into her honey hued orbs.

"Apologize and get out of my way." His voice was velvety decorated with a steel touch and a light french twist which sent chills down her spine.

God. Could he get any hotter?

She found an edge to his tone as if he was scrutinizing her. Seeing if she was worth talking to or not.

Angelique blinked once before laughing. A small laugh that seemed to be reflected by the cobblestone beneath them and arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow, golden spun sunlight scorching the burnt sugar draped over her skin "You don't know me, do you?"

Asher's lips pinioned into a line, assessing her closely as he took a predatory step closer, bringing them only inches apart, "A spoilt rich brat, perhaps?"

"I'm on the verge of tears, I swear. You're hurting me." A scoff slipped from the gap between her lips as the intoxicating fragrance of his mild cologne invaded her senses.

"Get out of my way."

"Yeah, how about you do do that?"

"I'm saying this for the last time; out of my way."

"Dude, I swear!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, sending him an incredulous look "It can't be this difficult for someone to just walk past."

"It can't be this difficult to just get the fuck out of my way too then."

"It's not actually but I won't."

He rolled his eyes looking more amused now, "Did the president not warn you about playing with fire?"

"Oh she did alright, I just like getting burnt, you know like everyone else."

He cocked his head to a side, a small but sharp smirk pulled at his lips. It looked so threatening. So devastating. "You're asking for hell, amour."

That's the thing about power. It's addictive. It's more expensive than money itself. Ultimate supremacy was dream of all.

Angelique rolled her eyes, lips twisting into a sneer as she forgot all about the book laying by their feet as the wind ruffled her hair, tangling them into a beautifully put together mess "Am I or are you?"

"Quite sad that stupidity doesn't have a remedy, yeah?"

Angelique's fists curled by her sides as she tried to maintain her poker face, her gaze locked on his as she truly began to see. Asher Roosevelt was rude and damn attractive. A lethal combination....

"You would know, wouldn't you?" She waved him off dismissively as she spoke.

"Well, I'm dealing with you, aren't I?"

"Worry about yourself, princess."

His hand abruptly hauled up, fingers draping around the back of her neck as her wretched her closer, his stormy gaze clashing against her fiery one "Fantasizing about me being worried now, are we?" Asher shot her another mocking smirk, a sign that he knew he was getting under her skin. It caused her blood to boil in her veins.

Angelique felt the warmth of his hand seeping through her pores as she suddenly found herself caged in a quite intimate position. She scoffed, her hands clasped his muscled biceps, fingernails dipping into his muscular arms as fiercely as her eyes dripped lethality "Think about it as you like it."

He thinned his eyes at her, seemingly impassive. She could feel the anger wafting off him in waves but his expression gave away nothing. He knew Angelique wanted to extract a reaction from him, to irate him, to rupture his permanently stoic expression. But he wouldn't allow her the satisfaction. Asher never loses. But he sure shattered everything in his wake. Like the beer bottle he smashed on yet another guy's head last night.

He removed his grip from the nape of her long neck, moving back as his eyes flickered down. Asher made up his mind and bent to the forgotten book near her long legs. Angelique watched him warily as he raised himself up, her novel clasped in his hand. She looked at him, confusion painted on her enticing face.

Asher knew, no matter how much he wanted to devastate the girl, to show her, her place, he couldn't do it. Not just because she was Lauren's sister but because he didn't want any problems with Eric. He had enough problems on his plate, serving another one to himself would be stupidity and Asher didn't do stupidity. So he decided to simply threaten her. Not much... for now.

"Well then, you can consider this as one of the many burns you're gonna get in Crowndale."

And before she knew, he shoved his other hand in his pocket, withdrew his lighter and put her novel on fire. It took her a bit of time to comprehend what was happening while he let the book plummet in front of her.

That was Asher Roosevelt for you. He never completed a conversation.

A ridiculously handsome half smirk was imprinted on his countenance as he lazily viewed her panicked profile, her eyes widened and lips parted in panic.

"Really now? Not even a punch? Like come on at least a slap?" He mocked before brushing past her, silly girl. Certainly, he proved himself to be the more powerful one. Like always.

There was a reason no one tampered with Asher Roosevelt.

Angelique tried opening the book hastily, her breathing had stopped in fear. Finally acquiring the polaroid, she stood up, letting the book burn by itself as she helplessly stared at the half burnt peice in her hand.

—

The radiance of the splendidly lit chandeliers reflecting the molten lava in Angelique's eyes, dark hair cascading down her shoulders.

Her fingers wrapped around the crystal doorknob of the door to her parents' office which stood shut and twisted it as she stepped in.

"Mum, did you see the twins-"

Her lips frosted. Her eyes dilated and her pulse escalated. She couldn't inhale.

A wave of nausea glided her insides as she blundered into the room.

"Dad..."

At the stature matching her eye level, levitated tetrad of legs. Her amber eyes traced from the feet up, to the pallid faces. Tounges slightly jutting out and a rope tightly twined around their necks, suspending them in the air.

She was overwhelmed. The haze of her head fogging her senses, misting her eyes and clouding her concentration as she dropped to her knees-

Angelique's breathing was erratic as she sat upright. She heaved the comforters off her body and stood up instantaneously, attempting to expunge the cold sweat from her forehead. She was doused.

She led herself from the room, stumbling into the drawing area whilst trying to abate her turbulent heartbeat.

"One. Two. Three. Four. Seve- Fuck." She shook her head fiercely before starting over.

It wasn't working.

Relinquishing her weight on the plush couch, she folded her hands. The darkness was reemerging. She could feel it.

She halted, her body stiff as concrete. Why was it silent? Oh god. The last thing she needed at that juncture was to be obnubilated by silent.

Angelique had always hated the venomous silence. It was tumultuous.

Silence was goddamn deafening.

The burnt photo flashed back in her mind like a picture on embedded in the back of her head, refusing to be redeemed for anything. Artemisia was burnt out of it. Her mother was burnt out of it. But no. This wasn't about that. Neither was it about her witnessing the suicide of her parents.

This was about what she did after.

A freezing chill glossed the length of her spine as her eyes met an intricately designed silver photo frame on the wall. It was her, Charles and a redhead.

He would never forgive her.

She shivered. No. Nothing was succouring. The only thing that could have helped was destroyed.

She staggered to her feet, swaying a little as she diverted her attention from the picture of exuberance and made her way to the kitchen.

She grabbed a glass, clutching it a bit too tightly as she slammed it on the top of the breakfast bar.

The intensity made it break and shards pierced the silken skin of her palm.

"What have I done." Angelique mumbled distractedly as the glass lacerated her otherwise flawless skin, beads of ruby shattering when they kissed the marble flooring, staining them with her blood.

She doesn't feel pain..... nothing in fact, she never felt pain.

Because Angelique Arcane inflicted pain, she wasn't used to perceiving it, though.

"What have I done."

She gulped. It was far too silent.

Angelique's breathing was sporadic. She wanted her tears to spill down her cheeks. She wanted moisture to dampen her long thick lashes. She wanted the salty waters from her eyes to smash down her rosy cheeks. But she couldn't let that happen.

She was a warrior. A weapon. She did not weep.

She strode up the stairs, straight into the washroom as she shut the door in one languid motion behind her.

The darkness had reemerged. Depressive thoughts coursed through her veins, sparking a fire in her body. Her ears rang with small groans of pain. A reminder of what she did that night.

A second passed. Two. Three. The groans increased in voice. Four. Five. Shrieks made their appearance.

Her breathing wasn't normalizing. This was not good. She pulled her bleeding hand under running water. At least it wasn't silent then.

"What have I done."

She gazed at her reflection before dropping her head back down and squeezed her hands on her ears, trying to shoo away the noises but they only seemed to intensify.

Six. Seven. Shouts for mercy.

She will not weep.

Her breathing dipped as she looked into the mirror. Angelique's beautiful face was framed by those disheveled brunette hair. They were tangled and knotted and her lips trembling. Somehow, she still managed to look beguiling. She pulled her hands off her ears. Her hand was still bleeding. In the mirror, blood was already splattered on the ear she had pressed her bleeding palm on. It trailed down to her shoulder, soaking the silk material of her button down Victoria's secret night shirt.

Too much blood.

Eight. Nine. The begging for death was raw. Like they were screaming for death. For freedom.

She will not weep.

There was no way to cease the voices. And she knew it. She glanced down at her hand. Angelique paused briefly, clutching her wrist with the other hand tightly. She felt wary as she watched warm, thick, red liquid ooze from the incision and torrent down in a stream to discolor the white ceramic sink.

'Death'

'Death'

'Death'

A prayer for release from the ache. The voices slowly faded away.

As disgusted people would be, she always admired the blood with a sense of awe. She noticed it's beauty. She felt captivated by the rich colour.

She felt the royalty run inside her.

Ten. The voices stopped, the haze in her head overpowered all the other senses and she fainted.

She did not weep.