Cold As Ice

She sat on her armchair at the end of the table. All the most powerful people in the corporate world sat around this very table, staring at her as if she was a painting to behold. Her green eyes were darkened by the light that shone through the glass windows and her frown was ever so prominent.

Her gaze was so intimidating that the men around the table, strongly built men in their early twenties, fidgeted with their hues to ease the tension in the room. It only increased.

Her frown deepened as she waited. Something she was not keen on doing, for her personal assistant to start the meeting. Her long legs crisscrosses each other by the ancles as she waited. Now patiently.

Maurice, her personal assistant, gave a victorious sigh of relief as she clicked the bottom on the remote, dimming the lights and starting the meeting with a slide show of the escalating business. Her voice boomed for all to hear.

She sat, unmoving, not giving a care to the world as she saw the reactions of the men who stared at Maurice. Her eyes were calculating to the best people to, spark a business deal with.

While Maurice spoke, her body moved energetically, her hands flailing in each direction, her breasts bouncing as she clasped her hands and or answered questions. Some of the younger ,embers of the meeting found themselves enchanted at the method of distracting them while Maurice skillfully made them agree to become business partners.

Towards the end of the meeting, she stood up, silent as a serpent, yet loud as a firecracker. If it were ever possible since she rarely spoke throughout the entire meeting. She took up her suit jacket, that was over the chair that she sat on, and thanked the people from coming, not before locking eyes with her P.A and nodding subtly.

She made her way to the door, opened it and walked out. She walked towards her office, took her coat jacket and slung it over her suit while she made her way down 56 flights to reach the bottom, in which she had to walk an extra section out the skyscraper of a building.

Walking out of Imelda Hotel Enterprises, she made her way to her new addition of Maserati. It's gold and purple color stretched widely throughout the whole vehicle. She opened her car door and slid inside. Pulled out of her private parking and drove away.

To the people in the meeting who weren't associated with her, she was an egotistical woman who thought that she could get all of the people flaunting at her with the least amounts of effort.

To the employees that knew nothing about her, but worked under her supervision, she was a dark cold hearted women who demanded respect and could send you jobless in a matter of seconds if you don't arrive at work on time.

To the media, she was a daughter of the two most influential people on the planet. She was the cold woman who stopped at nothing to get what she wanted.

To her family she is a broken girl, who doesn't want to try and fix herself because she is afraid of the outcome of her life. She is a woman looking for reassurance, but is too scared to ask for.

To her best friend, Maurice, she's a dangerous sister. A woman who has, and still is going through the bad dealings of her life. The woman who is still trying to show the world that no matter what, she can overcome her demons.

She stopped at a school. Before getting out, she leaned over to the passenger's seat and picked up her disregarded thin black glasses and walked amongst the parents, guardians and adults that walked inside the school. Some parting to give her space to walk, surprised that such a woman came to this schooling institution.

She came to the front desk and showed her ticket, that was neatly folded into a square. The woman behind the desk stamped the paper, tentatively, and handed it back to her. The price now had a hole in it.

She walked towards down the school. Searching for the hall. Once she reached it, she gazed at her paper. No. 1 it read, since she was the very first one to purchase a ticket for this particular occasion.

She walked down and sat on the chair which had that particular number. Many people entered now, some whispering amongst themselves as she sat there. She then took her cell phone out and placed it on flight mode.

She waited for another hour for the performance to start.

This time, the hall was filled with people. Many words were being spoken at the same time, people getting ever so loud at the rate, then a hush came over the crowd. She stared at the stage in front of her, waiting for the curtains to part.

Then the curtains moved. Revealing two dozen or so children on stage. Draped in pajamas.

That was the start of a two hour 'Peter Pan meets Alice in Wonderland Play'. She sat there, her sole purpose to find the two children she came all the way for. Her eyes scanned the crowd of children.

Her eyes watered as she saw both her boys, standing near the back, because at five they were too tall. She grinned widely. Both their eyes searched throughout the crowd of people, until one of them caught the gaze of their mother. He nudged his bother and he too looked at the appreciate look on his mother's eyes.

They smiled. Gapped toothed and all.

To her two boys she is a Mama. She is the woman who could stop at nothing to show how much she loves them. She is the woman who will walk out of a very important meeting, to come to her boys concert. Every single time. Even though they were to be played another two more times.

Those two were the only opinions that mattered to her. She needed them more than anything.

Not the media. Not her employees. Not her business partners. Or her parents and siblings. Not her best friend. But her children.

Throughout the whole whole concert her gaze was trained on her sons.

She smiled happily.

If it wasn't for them, then she would never have been here.

~*~

"And, and I was almost going to be Peter, right Mama? But Mr Hopington said that they needed a 'pure blood', you know," her second born son said, bouncing up and down his chair as they went through the drive-thru.

With all the windows rolled down, with all the New York winds blowing through their hair. The night was still young and all three of them were extremely hungry, licking her chapped lips, she drove an inch forward, the jeep in front of them was taking longer to move, and some ashy black foggy smoke rose from it.

"What do you mean by, 'pure blood' gafas?" their mother asked, her head turned an inch to look at them straight in the eyes, the only problem is was that they were both at the back, and moving all over.

"Yeah, I think he means that he doesn't like Mexicans, ya know? Papa is American, and you aren't so, yeah." her second born continued, pushing his glasses up his nose so that he could see the menu properly, while his other brother tried to remember the all the songs that they sang only an hour ago.

Their mother felt a rush of anger implode within her. Doesn't like Mexicans? What kind of teacher says such kinds of things? She gripped the steering wheel tightly, biting her lower lip until she could taste the blood.

"Hello, welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order please?"

The two boys chorused "Yes" with brig smiles. After ordering their food, paying for it with a side of ice-cream, the three of them drove down towards Central Park.

This place, like any other here in Manhattan, was their favorite place to be. They could some here every Friday afternoon, which was the only day the boys didn't have school homework, and just sit with the roof of their car down and the car seats bent over in a bed form.

They could stare into the night sky and contemplate on their lives, and once they were asleep.. Rosa would close the top of the car, place them to sleep at the back, and escape to the boot so that she could continue with her work.

If she got this contracted sighted by one of her competitors, then Rose-berry Hotels would be part of Imelda Hotels, meaning that she would have bought the whole branch. She would have another five-hundred hotels under her belt, looming all over her.

She'll be rich, even more so. She'll be able to protect her family mush better his way. Rosa Belle Espisto sighed, her head stinging with the strain. Her body felt sore, her fingers felt stiff with all the work that they did, her stomach felt bloated with all the junk food she consumed, and it didn't help that she was still suffering the removal of her appendix only a month ago.

With her cell in hand, she scrolled up her endless list of messages, her eyes droopy, sleep creeping up her until she spotted one message. Attached to an unknown number. She eyes it skeptically, feeling some strange eerie change in the air.

It was as if someone was watching her.

She deleted it. Didn't even open to read the message. After she deleted it she immediately called her brother.

They were two of their quadruplets pack and were the lineage of their father's multi-billion dollar companies. While Rosa Belle Espisto carried out the Hotel enterprise of the family, her more intelligent and intellectual brother sealed with Ingegnerie d'Imelda.

The phone ringed. Once. Twice. Thrice. Voicemail. She hung up, if he wasn't going to pick up, that meant that he had much more important things to be dealing with. It meant that he didn't have time for his sister, no her two children, and the fact that someone could possibly be stalking her, and that there might be a possibility that someone was watching her from the bench opposite where they were parked.

She started up the car and drove, her chest rising and falling in unhealthy rhythms, hr hands felt wet and clammy. He heard her phone ping. Another message. She checked.

Unknown number.

Rosa's couldn't breathe properly, she drove all out of the city, watching as the scenery changed. She was on the highway, she couldn't see much vehicles, but spotted many trucks and huge cars about. Her two sons were sleeping soundless, the round was partly empty.

She sighed, nothing was going to happen, she was overreacting, maybe going to her best-friends house uninvited would be the thing. No, I'll phone her, she second guessed. Once the light switched red and, and she stopped Rosa immediately picked up he phone. And it pinged.

Unknown number.

She deleted it.

Rosa-Belle Espisto - Hey, Maurice, the boys and I are going to come in a little under thirty minutes, I think someone is stalking me again. I'm coming.

The unknown number messaged her once more, the light turned green and she ignored, her concentration in the road. On her two boys. On her fast paced heart. She quickly glanced through the rear view mirror and saw a black BMW convertible. Hot on her trails.

Rosa gulped, feeling herself sweating, she turned on the AC in the car. All the windows were now rolled down, but she felt hot, her head throbbed as she glanced at the mirror once more. The car was still there. Her cell pinged again, and again, and again. She didn't pick up, too afraid.

Her eyes skirted all over the road. She hastily, she licked her lips. They were dry. Her phone then rang, the sound of her children singing her favorite song carried so much dark emotions, too scared to pick up, she left it. Left her phone ringing, and as if a demon was sent for her especially she watched at the receive button seemed to have a mind of its own and it was pressed.

She held her breath, the only person she knew who had that technology to accept calls without having to physically press was her brother's company. That and the American Secret Service.

"Rosy, Rosy, Rosa Bella, Belle, Beauty," she froze at the term of endearment, bile rose from her throat as she heard the voice once more, the voice that tormented her for years on end.

She cut the call, but it didn't work. The call didn't switch off. No.

"You didn't pick up you phone to read my messages," he carried on, she found speak impossible, "I've been thinking 'bout you, about us. Our sons, 'eard they look exactly like their father, ey? Say something Rosy, I know their with you."

She gulped, and was certain that he heard her. She was certain that he could hear her rapid breathing and pounding heart. "H-how did you get this number?"

Her voice trembled.

He chuckled.

"You've been a naughty girl, Rosy, not allowing our sons from their visits, not allowing them to speak to me. Ignoring my calls, not sending letters. Hahaha, girl your forgetting who I am."