I was about to answer, “No, but I’m doing it anyways,” but a deep growl and scary chuffing caught everyone’s attention. I saw people turning in Hudson’s direction, but didn’t look myself.
He realized what he was doing and cleared his throat. “Did you say you got a fucking death threat?”
Oh, so you’re going with that being the reason, huh? Okay, whatever, possessive dragon. I’m not yours anymore. Grief swarmed me fast. You never respected me enough for me to be yours.
I ignored him, standing and focusing on the photographer. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting since I know you have the other models to do as well.”
He glanced between Hudson and me as if dying to ask or know what that truly was, but then seemed to think better of it. Smart man. He gestured for me to follow him, explaining his people had already set up in the room.
They’d plotted them well and remembered my rules about not showing my ass in a thong, along with the others. I started wearing a lace baby doll chemise, standing in the doorway of the balcony with a mug—seeming to be coffee, but I couldn’t drink that. They’d done my hair in sexy tousled bedhead, and the setting was like I had rolled out of bed to have my coffee and was drawn into the gorgeous view.
Easy to be the model for.
Next was a matching bra and panty set with garters and stockings. It was a thong, so I was lying on the plush bed with rose petals all over it. It was along the lines of a pinup model shot, but the bra didn’t show nipples, and from that angle, it was no more than a swimsuit showed.
The last was my favorite, not because I wanted to wear it to model, but I thought the design was killer. It was a black halter lace teddy with a deep V cut that went way past my belly button. The whole back was gone, but the bottom was sexy boy shorts with just a bit of my ass almost, kinda showing, if at the right angle.
And I did like the shot, even if I didn’t want to be the model. It showed a lot of the gorgeous hotel room as I stood in front of a full-length mirror as if checking the lingerie fit. The shot showed the front and back that way since my hair was mostly swept over one shoulder so my back was visible.
I was supposed to be done then, but the hobgoblins wanted to branch out into super soft towels and linens that were perfect for fae material… And easy to make, giving more jobs to the ones we were rescuing.
And since I never denied the hobgoblins anything, I posed in nothing but a towel in the lavish bathroom before a super short bathrobe.
“I’m keeping the robe,” I told them when were done. “I love this.”
“I love I get priority when I order anything because I’ve taken the pictures for the co-op,” the photographer added, his voice amused. “Let’s get you in the first professional outfit and downstairs.”
I nodded and they let me change in the bathroom. This part was easy; two styles of suits and one Friday, business casual-type outfit. I liked them all. Done and done.
“And we’ve got idiots starting a boycott,” Mel announced just as we finished the last pictures in the resort’s business center.
“They are so predictable that you almost feel bad for crushing them,” I grumbled, shaking my head. “Did they at least come up with anything interesting for the hashtags?” I sighed when she flinched. “What?”
“One of them is #slutownerboycott and another #instawhoreresign. The rest we expected; #boycottcherrywood, #staynomorecherrywood, and #cherrywooddownhillspiral.”
“That really is the best they could come up with? So clever,” I mocked. We’d come up with better when we were looking at doing this from all angles and what might happen. “Does that much hate and anger give them brain damage?”
She snorted. “That’s good. I like that. I think the humans could use that with all the shit they have too.”
I held up my hand to hold her off. “We have enough of our own shit. Don’t add to my need to fight every righteous fight.”
“Yeah, good fucking point,” she grumbled. “You good?”
I snorted, pretending to wipe fake tears. “They called me a slut and whore on social media. What will I ever do? I’m crushed.”
“Clearly,” she drawled. “Let’s wrap up and bounce. The hobgoblins aren’t happy you have to deal with this shit and have a spread they’re sending over from your bakery.”
I sighed. “I swear they agreed to open Goblin Goodies just to fucking feed me.”
“You poor, poor thing. I mean, talk about abused and—”
“Shut up,” I chuckled. “I wasn’t bitching. I just want them to be happy and not feel so… Indentured. It’s weird, Mel. It’s over the top and I feel like I’m always taking advantage, like an old caste system and I’m lord of them all. I love being spoiled, but they don’t always have to—”
“I get it.” She nodded when I shot her a look. “I do. I get some of it too as your right hand and main protector. My family is getting showered with treats and stuff too. They love it, but it is a bit much and awkward.”
Well, at least it wasn’t only me who felt that way. I had assumed it was just because I was new to being a supe, but if the Rothchilds felt it too, then it was too much. Then again, Irma had said it was over the top of normal because the hobgoblins had two decades of being treated horribly, and we adored them.
It made sense.
The shit really hit
