11 | An Englishman

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"HOLY BLOODY HELL!"

Michael had been cursing profanities for the past five minutes now. What's worse was that I couldn't really understand him.

"Sodding barmy munter..."

See what I mean?

Jeez, what a baby! It wasn't like he never had a nosebleed before!

Well...considering I slammed the door on his face -- especially his nose -- I guessed he really was in pain. But it wasn't like he didn't deserve it! He kept hitting on me with his perverted comments.

There were other problems I had to reissue besides me slamming Michael Cutting's stupid nose with my bedroom door, though. I tried to check for escape routes but failed miserably. Why? Because I was on the third floor of this gigantic mansion. There were plenty of servants walking everywhere filled with duties on their mind -- like I'd even be able to bribe them, what with me being complete broke and all -- and Michael here was outside my room, cursing the world and the day I was born.

I huffed and simply gave up any hope of escaping this room and this house. I marched to the giant walk-in closet, only to halt in my tracks when I saw a Louis Vuitton luggage. It was sitting on the floor, quietly mocking me.

I grabbed the handle but it was freaking heavy! What was in this thing, anyway? An elephant?

I didn't bother opening it because I was already fuming when I snatched a note placed neatly on top of a gorgeous cream chiffon dress for springtime, with a round neckline and a delicate ribbon at the back. There was a pair of darling, size ten pumps with cork-style heels and white straps, along with a small gold buckle on the side. Other than that, the paper said:

Here is what you'll be wearing as you go to England, dear girl. It's perfect for spring and your appearance when you arrive there.

Please, I beg you, do not ask about what happened to your ridiculous American ensemble you wore when you arrived here. I simply sent it to Planet Aid here in the county. Do get dressed. You only have a few more hours.

-Lady C

I swear to God, I'd kill this old woman. I mean, yeah, the dress was cute and all but to hell if I wore a dress! Plus, I most definitely would not ever wear a stupid white hat with yellow roses on it like what the dowager was wearing on top of her regal head. Who was I, Kate Middleton? No to the effing way. Uh-uh.

I'd rather bite my head off first before I'd do that. How I was going to wear the dress when I already bit my head off, I didn't know, but it was an option.

With a groan, I ignored the dress and opened the closets for signs of jeans, t-shirts, and sneakers.

The normal-looking ones (don't ask the price) was a Rock & Republic Obsessed denim skinny jeans, a white polo shirt from Giordano, along with their denim jacket, and red ballet flats that looked like it was hardly worn because of its cleanliness. I was surprised they fit me all so perfectly.

I took a shower before dressing up, by the way. Just to let you guys know that I was hygienic, thank you very much.

I didn't care about putting accessories on me, then I tied my curly and wavy long hair into a high ponytail, getting some black Wayfarers while I was at it. There wasn't anything cheap in this room, but at least I found some things I was comfortable wearing. With light makeup and my shades on, I was already dressed and begrudgingly ready to go, I pulled the Louis Vuitton luggage with me down the stairs. I really didn't care if it was a Vuitton because I didn't even ask for this in the first place.

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