HOT-SPOT RAIDERS

{I2} I don't want a fantasy, I want reality

"Irene princess, where would you like Charles to place your luggage."

"On the side please Charles." Irene curtly instructed not looking up from her quilted Chanel handbag she was rummaging through.

"Irene!"

"Yes Mother." She said stubbornly.

"Don't be so rude!" Her mother scowled, "Thank you Charles dear."

Charles the butler bowed respectfully and returned to work.

"Irene, I want you to unpack your suitcase and hand luggage, the rest of the boxes will be arriving soon. Pepper
will give you the details of your spa appointment for tomorrow, Saturday. On Monday you will start school, therefore you can explore the town on Sunday with Sebastian. I expect you to be one your best behaviour." Her mother stressed and sashayed out the bedroom before slamming the door.

Irene sighed heavily in anger. Sebastian was her favourite butler, though she felt she could trust Pepper, her personal maid, the most as she was the only one who dared to keep secrets from Mrs. Hawthorne.

Irene hastily stood up from her chair and started to unpack her clothes. The soft fluff of the rug between her toes tickled as she unwilling continued folding her clothes and placed them in the draws. Surely she would have a maid to do this, you are thinking, well, of course she does but Irene is too fastidious about her clothing and doesn't want the maids touching her brand new fur coat.

After struggling not to break her freshly manicured nails, Irene walked along to exit her bedroom. Sneaking down the stairs, she tried to avoid the shrieking creaky steps. Her attempts of escaping without a sound were unneeded as her mother nor any of the maids and butlers would pay heed to her, they were caught up in their own crowded schedules.

Irene slithered out the front door swung her car keys around her index finger mischievously, a smirk hidden behind an innocent smile.

She unlocked her overly vaunted sparkling Bugatti, and let the wind gusts carry her brunette hair. The roof of her car was down and the music was booming over the engine roars as Irene recklessly raced down the steep, freshly made road, down into the town.

Irene's many half/step-siblings chatter about how implacable she is, always persistent and never fails to win over full attention of anyone and everyone. She dislikes her half-brothers and step-sister because they always "nag" and "snatch", when in reality, if her parents were to see any of their children doing the things that irritate Irene, it would be herself.

Zooming through the streets Irene came across a small bakery, her mouth watering, and tummy growling in agreement; she decided to buy a snack for the road.

Being the true aesthete of pastries she is, Irene stared at the cakes in awe. The delicacy of the iced cakes and caramelised decorations were mesmerising.

After an extended ten minutes, Irene chose a large twisted pastry filled with cold custard gooeyness, sprinkled with cinnamon flakes.