Page 7 of The Bratty Heir

Victor's hand came down on the back of Rocco's neck, squeezing just shy of painful. "What you want doesn't matter," he growled. "You'll do as you're told, when you're told. Got it?"

Heat pooled in Rocco's belly at the commanding tone. He wanted to rebel, to push back against Victor's authority. But a larger part of him craved the older man's approval, yearned to submit to that iron will.

"Yes, sir," Rocco said, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Victor's grip tightened for a moment, then released. "Good boy," he murmured, the praise sending a jolt of pleasure through Rocco's body.

As Rocco positioned himself on the bench, Victor loaded the bar with what looked like an impossible amount of weight. "This is way too much," Rocco protested. "I can't lift that."

"You can and you will," Victor said, moving to spot him. "Now shut up and lift."

Gritting his teeth, Rocco wrapped his hands around the cold metal bar. He pushed, straining against the weight. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the bar began to rise.

"That's it," Victor encouraged, his voice a low rumble. "Push through it. Show me how strong you are."

Rocco's arms shook with the effort, sweat beading on his brow. He managed three reps before his strength gave out. The bar came crashing down towards his chest.

In an instant, Victor was there. His hands closed around the bar, muscles bulging as he easily lifted the weight Rocco had struggled with. He racked the bar, then turned his attention to Rocco.

"You okay?" he asked, concern bleeding through his gruff exterior.

Rocco nodded, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. "Yeah," he panted. "Just... give me a minute."

Victor's eyes raked over Rocco's body, taking in the flushed skin and heaving chest. "Take your shirt off," he ordered. "You're overheating."

Rocco's breath caught in his throat. "What?"

"Your shirt," Victor repeated, impatience coloring his tone. "Take it off before you pass out."

With shaking hands, Rocco peeled the sweat-soaked fabric from his skin. He felt exposed, vulnerable under Victor's intense gaze. But there was also a thrill to it, a heady rush of excitement at being so exposed to this dangerous man.

Victor's eyes darkened as they roamed over Rocco's bare torso. "Better," he said, voice rough. "Now, again. This time, focus on your form."

They continued like that for what felt like hours. Victor pushing Rocco to his limits, demanding more with each set. And Rocco, to his own surprise, rising to meet those demands.

By the time Victor called for a break, Rocco was trembling with exhaustion. Every muscle ached, his skin slick with sweat. But beneath the pain, there was a sense of accomplishment. Of pride.

"Here," Victor said, tossing Rocco a water bottle. "Hydrate."

Rocco caught it clumsily, gulping down the cool liquid. Some of it spilled, trailing down his chin and neck. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, not missing the way Victor's eyes tracked the movement.

"So," Rocco said, aiming for casual. "Is this what I can expect every morning? Because I gotta say, it's not exactly my idea of a good time."

Victor's lips quirked in a small smile. "Oh, this is just the warm-up, princess. We haven't even gotten to the real training yet."

Rocco groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall. "You're going to kill me."

"Nah," Victor said, moving closer. "Can't have too much fun if you're dead."

The words sent a jolt of heat through Rocco's body. He looked up at Victor, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. The older man loomed over him, all rippling muscle and barely contained power.

"Is that what this is?" Rocco asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Fun?"

Victor's eyes darkened, something hungry and primal flashing in their depths. "It could be," he growled. "If you're willing to work for it."

Rocco's breath caught in his throat. He knew he should back away, should maintain some professional distance. But the heat radiating off Victor's body, the intoxicating scent of his skin... it was overwhelming.

"And what exactly would I have to do?" Rocco asked, tilting his chin up in challenge.

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