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“Left.”
Vox grumbled and turned. To the right.
Velvette gritted her teeth. “The other left.”
“You should have said you didn’t mean your left.” Vox turned in the direction she wanted.
“I was being nice, you daft cunt!”
Vox didn’t often agree to model clothes for her. She wanted to make it so he would do it again. Velvette was sure he was being difficult on purpose.
He would have been a fantastic model. And could be, when the outfit was one of his choices. For one of his ideas. Well, if she did clothes for his things, he should model her clothes for her things.
Well… he was doing it. Velvette snapped another few pictures. “Extend your left arm. Like you’re beckoning someone.”
“Like an employee or a dog?”
“Like you like them. So… more dog.”
Vox smirked. Man had a television for a head and was so photogenic. It hadn’t taken Velvette long to get used to Hell’s cultural norms. Valentino might have oozed sex without him having to do anything, but Vox was the epitome of attractive to the public. For a man, anyway.
“Gorgeous, darling.”
Vox’s smile became more genuine. That picture? She snapped for herself.