Page 2 of Strict Daddy

The interior defied all my expectations of a gym. Dim lighting cast a moody glow over the sleek, minimalist space. The usual clatter and clamor of weights and machines was replaced by a low, pulsing beat that resonated in my bones. Gleaming chrome and polished mirrors reflected the soft illumination, creating an almost otherworldly ambiance.

"Welcome to Celestial Fitness." A warm voice drew my attention to the reception desk, where a stunning woman with a constellation of stars tattooed along her collarbone greeted me with a smile. "I don’t recognize you.”

“You know all the members.”

“Give or take,” she said, giving me a sphinx-like smile. “You must be here for the free trial?"

I nodded, suddenly self-conscious of my faded leggings and threadbare t-shirt amidst the gym's chic aura. "I saw your flyer. Thought I'd check it out." My words came out tinged with uncertainty.

"You've come to the right place." Her grin widened as she pressed a shimmering key card into my palm. "We're all about unlocking potential here. Go on, explore. The locker room is to your left, and the trainer will be out in a few to get you started."

“Trainer? I don’t think I can afford a trainer.”

“Don’t worry, it’s all complimentary. As is this.” She handed me a set of gym clothes.

“Clothes?”

“Absolutely. We like everyone to feel equal here.”

Murmuring my thanks, I ventured into the hushed labyrinth of the gym, my ratty sneakers squeaking against the polished obsidian floor. The locker room was a gorgeous—all plush towels and gleaming fixtures, infused with a heady aroma of exotic spices and dark florals.

There was no way on earth I’d be able to afford this place. Still, if I worked hard for the free trial month, maybe I could make some progress at least. I quickly changed into the borrowed set of sleek black gym wear that hugged my curves like a second skin.

Emerging onto the main floor, I paused to survey the array of cutting-edge equipment, each machine poised and waiting like a futuristic sculpture. Trepidation mingled with a growing buzz of anticipation as I stepped up to a complex-looking contraption of gears, pulleys, and gleaming cables.

It was pretty quiet in here, with only a couple of other ladies using some of the machines. They, like me, were wearing the black gym outfits.

“Come on, Pops, time to do some work,” I whispered to myself.

With a deep breath, I approached the intimidating piece of equipment.

“Lat pull-down,” I read.

I hadn’t seen it in action before, but it seemed simple enough. You just pull it down, right? Tentatively, I adjusted the weight stack, selecting a relatively low weight that I hoped wouldn't embarrass me.

As I sat down and gripped the handles, my heart raced with a mixture of excitement and self-doubt. The pulsing beat inthe background seemed to synchronize with the rhythm of my breath.

My first attempt nearly sent me sprawling, my face flushing with embarrassment as I struggled to find my balance. But something shifted inside me, a flicker of determination sparking to life. Gritting my teeth, I adjusted my grip and tried again, and again, each small success fueling the fire in my veins.

Sweat soon dampened my brow and the small of my back, my muscles quivering with effort. I lost myself in the unfamiliar rhythm, the burn and the strain a sweet ache that whispered of progress, of change.

Deep down, a small, secret part of me thrilled at the prospect of enduring this exquisite discomfort in pursuit of transformation.

As I paused to catch my breath, a towel landed in my lap. I glanced up to find myself pinned beneath a penetrating gaze, a tall figure with sculpted features and eyes that glinted like obsidian shards in the low light.

"Looked like you could use this." A deep, honeyed voice washed over me, sending an entirely different kind of shiver racing down my spine. "I'm Byron. One of the trainers here."

"Poppy," I managed, ruthlessly tamping down the wild flutter behind my ribcage. "Poppy Cups."

Something dangerous and enticing danced in those unfathomable eyes as his lips curved in a ghost of a smile. "Welcome to Celestial Fitness, Poppy Cups. I have a feeling you're going to fit in beautifully here."

My cheeks warmed under the intensity of his stare, a trickle of sweat sliding down my temple that had nothing to do with the punishing workout I'd just endured. I clutched the towel like a lifeline, all too aware of how I must look—flushed, disheveled, and so far out of my depth it was almost laughable.

"Thanks," I mumbled, dropping my gaze to the floor. "I'm just trying to get in shape. Figured it was time for a change."

Byron's fingers brushed mine as he adjusted the towel, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. "Change can be a powerful thing, Poppy. But it requires dedication. Commitment. A willingness to push beyond your limits."

His words hung in the air between us, weighted with unspoken implications. I swallowed hard, my heart a wild drum beat in my ears.

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