Page 6 of Strict Daddy

The line went dead and I released a shaky exhale. I'd done it. Taken a chance. Now I just had to prove to Byron—and myself—that I had the strength to be sculpted into something new. No matter how much it hurt.

Istepped through theglass doors of Celestial Fitness, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. Or maybe that was just the knowledge that I'd soon be under Byron's intense scrutiny once more.

"Welcome back, Poppy." The receptionist greeted me with a knowing smile, star tattoos winking from her collarbones. She’d remembered my name? All the staff here were so . . . extra. "Byron's expecting you in Studio Three."

"Thanks." I adjusted my grip on my gym bag, the weight of my nerves making my palms slick. In the changing room, I slipped on the silky black workout gear that molded to my figure like a second skin. The clingy fabric made me feel exposed yet empowered, accentuating curves I usually tried to downplay.

Drawing a steadying breath, I made my way down the hushed corridor. You've got this, I told myself firmly. It's just a workout. One hour. How bad can it be?

I pushed open the door to Studio Three. Byron stood with his back to me, powerful shoulders straining against his inky tank as he adjusted something on the weight rack. At the sound of my entry, he turned slowly. Piercing blue eyes swept over my body, taking in every inch. My pulse stuttered under the heat of his appraisal.

"Punctuality. I like that in a client." A ghost of a smile flickered across his chiseled features.

"I didn't want to keep you waiting."

He glanced pointedly at the clock. "Cutting it fine. Being early is on time, Poppy. On time is late, and late..." He cocked a brow. "Well, let's hope we don't need to have that conversation."

"No, sir." The words fell from my lips unbidden. Something flashed in his eyes. Satisfaction? Amusement?

Byron closed the distance between us, his sheer size making me crane my neck to maintain eye contact. This close, his presence was overwhelming, intoxicating. I fought the urge to take a step back. Or maybe forward.

"Today, we push boundaries. I'll be testing your limits, seeing how deep your determination runs. Because transforming your body is only half the battle. It’s easy, in fact." He tapped a finger to my temple. "The real work happens here. Understood?"

I nodded mutely, already slightly breathless. His proximity made it hard to think straight.

"Use your words, Poppy."

"Yes. I understand."

"Good." He circled slowly around me, gaze raking over my trembling form. "This journey demands discipline. Sacrifice. And most importantly, trust." Byron paused behind me, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of my neck. "We’ve only just met, but I hope, in time, you’ll learn that I can be trusted.”

"I’m willing to try."

“Good. Then we begin."

Byron's hands were firmas he guided me into a deep lunge, his breath warm against my ear. "Lower," he commanded, pressing gently on my shoulders. I sank deeper, my quads trembling with the effort. His touch sent sparks through my exhausted muscles.

"Good girl," he murmured approvingly. Pride and something else fluttered in my stomach at his praise.

I tried to focus on my form, but my eyes kept drifting to Byron's chiseled physique, the way his shirt clung to his sculptedchest. Heat rose in my cheeks as I noticed the prominent bulge straining against his tight athletic pants.

"Eyes up here me, Poppy." His voice was sharp but laced with amusement. Mortified, I quickly looked up, meeting his intense blue gaze.

"S-sorry," I mumbled, my face burning.

"Don't apologize. Just concentrate." His stare seemed to pierce right through me. "Push through the discomfort."

I nodded, taking a shaky breath. My heart raced, though whether from exertion or his proximity, I wasn't sure. *Focus, Poppy.* I willed my mind to clear, channeling all my energy into the exercise.

The intensity soon mounted as Byron increased the pace. Sweat poured down my face, my lungs screaming for air. My muscles quivered on the verge of failure.

"Five more reps," he barked as I struggled to lift the heavy dumbbells.

"I . . . I can't . . ." I panted desperately. The weights felt like lead, my arms trembling uncontrollably.

"Yes, you can," Byron insisted, his tone uncompromising. "Mind over matter, Poppy. Don't let your body limit you."

Gritting my teeth, I attempted another bicep curl. Pain lanced through my muscles. I managed two reps before my strength gave out. The dumbbells clattered to the floor as I stumbled forward.

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