Cruelle, Darling

...The Viper's Muse~Pt. 2

~Author's Note: If you're freaking out that this is Part 2, don't worry--I retitled the Preview to Part 1 so the transition made more sense :D So, since I'm anal about detail, a little clarification that 'Cruelle' is pronounced 'Croo-el-leh' :) FANCY. Also, if you read my first Male!Cruella fanfic, I'm reusing the penthouse description cause I didn't feel like doing another lol. I hope you guys enjoy!! Love ya'll~

~One week later~

It's 11:55 a.m. You stand in front of a towering glass apartment in One Hyde Park with the card in your hand, seriously starting to regret accepting the job as a muse for an indefinite period of time. Granted, you really need the money or at least the reputation-booster. In a way, you suppose being chosen as a breathtakingly gorgeous fashion mogul's muse is flattering...

No, (y/n). Don't even think about it! Sighing, you enter the garish building and tell the clerk, blushing, that you're there to see-you read the card-'Mr. De Vil'.

What kind of name is that? you think as you're escorted to the elevator. The clerk hands you a worn temporary access card to De Vil's floor marked "Muse" since he was, apparently, made aware of your new employment. The state the card is in suddenly makes you panic. How many muses has this guy burned through?!

"Take the elevator to the 13th floor. His personal assistant will be waiting for you there," the clerk says. He smirks darkly as the doors close. "Good luck."

The 13th floor for someone who's last name is De Vil?

"How appropriate", you groan to yourself. "Maybe I should just tell him I respectfully decline. It's not like he could possibly ruin my career...right?"

The doors to De Vil's loft slide open to reveal a short, beige hallway lined with spotted paintings that match the one you chose with two black double doors at the end. From the other side of the doors, you can hear rapid jazz music playing as you approach on hesitant legs. You raise your hand to knock in simultaneous time with screaming erupting from within the loft. You jolt back and recognize one as Mr. De Vil and the other a woman, although it doesn't sound like his PA.

Something metallic crashes into glass and it's seconds later that the doors are burst open by a disheveled, brunette woman spitting in enraged French tongues at De Vil who appears at the end of the room yelling with matched ferocity. She pays absolutely no mind to you as she continues to shout at the man and barrels down the hallway and into the elevator, still spewing profanity-you don't need to speak French to know she just referred to De Vil as something filthy.

You spin back to the loft and watch De Vil, who also hasn't noticed your presence, angrily muttering to himself as he storms around the massive room, sucking on the cigarette stick at unhealthy intervals. The crimson silk robe flutters around him when he throws a lamp against the wall.

"Can you not trash our living space, Cruelle?" his PA says from one of the three square, white couches in the West side of the loft, her auburn hair up in a neat bun. She's reading the paper in complete disregard of her boss' quarrel.

De Vil storms in her direction and stands in front of her. "Don't you try to defend her!" he snaps.

"I'm not; I'm just asking you not to create a mess that I have to clean up," she replies flatly.

He scoffs and faces away with his hands on his hips for a few seconds prior to returning to his PA. "She was an ugly, boring girl with nothing to give," he sneers. "The thought that I could possibly waste my time-!" He can't finish from a dramatic huff during which he places his thumb and forefinger on either side of his forehead.

"I agree," the PA says, receiving a dark glare from her boss. "Well, it's a good thing you got another muse."

Cruelle hums. "Where is my little bee, anyway?"