Page 6 of The Bratty Heir

Victor cleared his throat, stepping back. "Let's go," he said gruffly. "Before I decide to make this even more unpleasant for you."

Rocco followed Victor down to the penthouse's private gym, shivering in the cool air. He was acutely aware of Victor's eyes on him, tracking every movement of his barely-clad body.

"Alright, princess," Victor said as they entered the gym. "Let's see what you're made of. Give me fifty push-ups."

Rocco balked. "Fifty? Are you insane?"

Victor's eyebrow arched. "You're right. Make it a hundred."

"That's not what I?—"

"Want to go for two hundred?" Victor challenged, his voice low and dangerous.

Rocco clamped his mouth shut, dropping to the floor with a scowl. He managed about ten decent push-ups before his arms started to shake.

"Come on, rich boy," Victor taunted from above. "Don't tell me this is all you've got."

Gritting his teeth, Rocco pushed on. By the thirtieth rep, his muscles were screaming. He collapsed onto the mat, chest heaving.

"I can't," he gasped. "It's too much."

Victor crouched down beside him, disappointment clear on his face. "Pathetic," he spat. "Is this really all the fight you have in you? No wonder your father thinks you're not ready."

The words stung, hitting too close to home. Rocco struggled to his hands and knees, anger giving him a second wind.

"Fuck you," he snarled, forcing himself through another push-up. "I'm not... weak."

Victor's hand came to rest on the small of Rocco's back, the touch electric even through the thin fabric of his shirt. "Prove it," he growled. "Show me what you're really made of, little prince."

Rocco's arms trembled, sweat dripping onto the mat below. But he pushed on, Victor's words spurring him forward. When he finally collapsed after the hundredth rep, his entire body was shaking.

"There," he panted, rolling onto his back. "Happy now, you sadistic fuck?"

Victor loomed over him, an unreadable expression on his face. "It's a start," he said gruffly. Then, softer: "You did good, kid."

The praise sent an unexpected thrill through Rocco's body. He basked in it for a moment before his brain caught up.

"Wait," he said, propping himself up on his elbows. "Was this some kind of test?"

Victor's lips quirked in a small smile. "Everything's a test from now on. Better get used to it."

He extended a hand, hauling Rocco to his feet. They stood close—too close—Victor's hand lingering on Rocco's waist.

"Ready for more?" Victor asked, his voice low and intense.

Rocco knew he wasn't just talking about the workout. He swallowed hard, torn between the urge to lean into Victor's touch and the need to maintain some semblance of control.

"Bring it on, old man," he said with false bravado. "I can take anything you dish out."

Victor's eyes darkened, something hungry flashing in their depths. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, you little brat,” he purred. “But I’ll show you in due time.”

The promise in those words sent a shiver down Rocco's spine. He licked his lips, suddenly aware of how close they were standing, how little he was wearing. Victor's gaze dropped to Rocco's mouth, his pupils dilating.

For a moment, the tension between them was electric, crackling with potential energy. Rocco swayed forward, drawn by some magnetic pull he couldn't resist.

Then Victor stepped back, clearing his throat. "Bench press," he said gruffly. "Let's see what you can handle."

Rocco blinked, shaking off the daze of desire. "Right," he muttered, moving to the weight bench. "Because that's exactly what I want to be doing at ass o'clock in the morning."

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