Hot-: Brat Princess Isabella Cranky Princess Has To Get Up

"I'm still moving to a cave," she informed him, taking a restorative sip. "But I suppose I can do the photoshoot first. Only because the lighting in the cave might be suboptimal."

As she marched toward her dressing room, the crankiness began to melt into her signature brand of high-octane confidence. The Brat Princess was awake, and while she might have started the day with a scowl, Isabella was ready to reclaim her throne, one designer heel at a time. HOT- brat princess Isabella Cranky princess has to get up

Isabella let out a dramatic groan that vibrated through the mattress. "Tell the car to go away! Tell the stylist I’ve decided to move to a cave! I am retired!" "I'm still moving to a cave," she informed

She walked toward the door, her silk robe trailing behind her like a royal train. Opening the door, she snatched the coffee from Marcus's hand without looking at him. The Brat Princess was awake, and while she

She flopped back onto her bed, burying her head under a mountain of goose-down pillows. But the silence didn't last. A soft, rhythmic tapping started at her door—the unmistakable sound of her personal assistant, Marcus, attempting the impossible task of waking her up for a 10:00 AM briefing.

With a sigh that signaled the end of her rebellion, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She caught her reflection in the gilded floor mirror. Even in her crankiest state, there was an undeniable glow to her—a mix of high-end skincare and the natural fire of someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

"Princess Isabella? The car will be here in forty-five minutes. Your stylist is already in the dressing room," Marcus called out, his voice filtered through the heavy oak door.