Chapter 1
POV: Daniella
I didn’t move to this town to fall for anyone. Neither for anyones.
I came for a clean slate, a stable job, and, if I was lucky, a shitty little apartment with decent water pressure and no ghosts of my past. Romance wasn’t part of the plan. I was done with men—especially the dangerously charming kind who smiled like they’d never been hurt.
So of course, the first person I met was exactly that kind.
“Hey,” the guy behind the gym counter said, eyes gleaming with something too warm for a stranger. “First time here?”
His voice was smooth. Friendly. Teasing. But what really got me was the way his hazel eyes sparkled, golden flecks catching in the light like fire.
He was… hot.
Tall and athletic, with dark blond hair pulled into a short bun, a jawline that could cut glass, and arms that definitely didn’t skip arm day. He wore a tight black tank that clung to his chest like it was made for him.
Shit.
“Is it that obvious?” I asked, trying not to blush under his gaze.
“A little,” he said, grinning. “But you’ve got potential.”
He held out his hand. “I’m Robert Heinmeir. But everyone calls me Bob.”
I took it, pulse already speeding up. His hand was warm and confident, his grip just firm enough to make my knees soften for half a second.
“Daniella,” I said. “Daniella Moore, new in town. New job. New everything.”
“Clean slate girl,” he nodded with approval, like it meant something more. “Welcome to FitZone. I’m a personal trainer here—if you want help getting started, I’ve got you.”
Before I could reply, the gym door swung open behind me.
And two more men walked in—both stunning in completely different ways.
The first one had rich brown hair, just messy enough to look careless but not lazy. His dark eyes scanned the room like he was gathering intel. He wore a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing tanned forearms and long fingers. Intense. Quiet. Smart. Definitely the brooding type.
The second man moved with a kind of casual authority that made my breath hitch. He was taller, broader, with black hair, ice-blue eyes, and a calm, commanding presence that made my skin buzz. Everything about him said protector. Enforcer. Dangerous.
And they were walking toward me.
My heart thudded hard against my ribs. My palms went a little damp. My lungs forgot how to breathe for a second.
Bob lifted a hand. “Speak of the devils. Daniella, meet my roommates. Nathaniel Martin and Adrian Bauer, Nate and Ace.”
“Daniella Moore, they live with you?” I asked, trying to sound neutral even as my body screamed what is this place and how do I never leave it?
“Unfortunately,” Nate muttered, barely looking at me—until he did. His eyes lingered for a beat too long, like he was analyzing me molecule by molecule.
“Job transfer or heartbreak?” Ace asked, his voice low and steady.
I blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Newcomers usually fall into one of those categories.”
I hesitated. “Little of both.”
Ace’s mouth twitched, barely a smile. “Welcome, then.”
Bob clapped his hands dramatically. “Okay, so—new rule. You two don’t talk to her. At all. That way she doesn’t become off-limits.”
Nate snorted. “Too late. We already saw her.”
“I saw her first,” Bob shot back, mock-serious, crossing his arms like he was laying down the law.
Ace arched a brow. “Or you’re just trying to call dibs.”
“She walked in, made eye contact with me, and I was being friendly.”
“You were drooling,” Nate muttered.
“I was smiling,” Bob countered.
Ace gave me a look—calm, amused, sharp. “What exactly did you walk into, Daniella?”
“I honestly have no idea,” I said, trying not to laugh.
“Okay, enough,” Nate said, stepping in like the voice of reason—which somehow made him even more attractive. “We all saw her. So, she’s off-limits. End of discussion. She’ll be our friend. Nothing romantic.”
And just like that, they were back to being weirdly intense about a rule I didn’t understand.
Bob groaned. “I hate this rule.”
“Is it a real rule?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s real,” Nate replied. “We made a pact years ago. No romantic involvement with people we all hang out with. Keeps the peace.”
“You say that like you’ve had... incidents,” I said slowly.
All three of them said nothing. Which was a very loud answer.
“Wow,” I blinked. “Are you seriously arguing about who’s allowed to flirt with me—while I’m standing right here?”
That broke them.
They laughed. Loud and unapologetic.
And yet, beneath the teasing and the banter, something unspoken flickered between us—a crackling tension, sharp and undeniable. I felt it in my chest, in my breath, in the heat gathering low in my belly.
This wasn’t harmless.
“I like her,” Nate said, eyes not leaving mine.
“Too bad she’s off-limits,” Bob added, flashing a grin that landed somewhere between charming and lethal. “Unless you want to find another trainer.”
“Wait—are you my trainer now?”
“If you want me to be,” he said, his voice dipping into something husky and warm. “I’ll take care of you.”
My mouth went dry. My whole body leaned into the moment, into him, into the promise curling behind those five little words.
God help me, I wanted to say yes.
If I thought training with Bob would be simple, I was wrong.
It was heat and tension disguised as fitness.
He led me through the machines, demonstrating each move with smooth, practiced ease, his body a constant distraction. Every time he touched me to adjust my form—his hands firm on my hips, a brush along my lower back—I felt it everywhere.
Heart pounding. Breath hitching. Skin buzzing like I’d been plugged into the wall.
“You’re really tense,” he said, stepping behind me during a set of lunges.
“No idea why,” I muttered, staring straight ahead at the mirror, trying not to look at the way his eyes lingered on my legs.
“Hmm,” he said, low and teasing. “Must be the new-girl nerves.”
Or the fact that he was all golden skin and heat at my back.
From across the gym, I spotted Nate and Ace leaning against the wall, both sipping smoothies and watching us like this was some kind of private show. Nate gave a slow smirk. Ace didn’t smile—his stare was intense, unreadable.
Great. No pressure at all.
“You’re doing fine,” Bob murmured, stepping in again. His hand slid over my waist, his breath near my ear. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just keep moving.”
My legs almost gave out—not from the lunge, but from the way his voice wrapped around me.
“You really don’t care about that rule, huh?” I asked, more breath than voice.
He straightened and shrugged, cocky grin in place. “I hate that rule.”
“Thought it was sacred.”
“It’s not real if it stops me from doing this right.”
“This?” I raised a brow.
He didn’t answer. Just reached out, tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, and let his fingers trail a moment longer than they needed to.
My stomach flipped.
By the time we finished the session, I was flushed, breathless, and sore in places I didn’t know had muscles.
Nate and Ace called out goodbyes from the lobby.
“You coming?” Nate asked Bob.
Bob shook his head. “I’m closing up in a bit. I’ll see you guys later.”
They exchanged a look, then left.
I stayed behind, grabbing my bag from the locker room. The space was quiet now, echoing with the hum of overhead lights and the distant clang of weights. I didn’t hear Bob come in—just felt his presence behind me as I closed my locker.
“You survived,” he said, voice lower in the empty room.
“Barely.”
“You’ll be sore tomorrow.”
“I already am,” I said, and turned to face him.
We were too close. The kind of close that could be brushed off as accidental—if either of us wanted it to be.
I didn’t step back.
He didn’t move either.
Bob reached out, fingers skimming the strap of my gym bag. “You’re stronger than you think.”
“You barely know me.”
“I’m a trainer,” he said. “It’s kind of my thing.”
I laughed, soft and unsure.
Then he leaned in—and everything slowed.
His hand came up to my face, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. His eyes flicked down, then back to mine, searching. Asking.
I didn’t stop him.
His lips touched mine—slow and soft at first, like a question.
And when I answered by leaning in, he deepened it.
The kiss went from warm to wild in a heartbeat.
His hand slid into my hair, the other gripping my hip. I melted against him, tasting salt and heat and something that made me want to burn it all down for another second. My back hit the locker door, and his mouth claimed mine like he’d been starving for it.
God, he tasted good.
I gasped when he pulled back, just enough to let us breathe.
“I want to see you again,” he said, voice rough. “Same time tomorrow?”
My head spun. I should’ve hesitated.
I didn’t.
“Yeah,” I breathed.
His smile was pure trouble. “Good. I’ll make you sweat.”
