Page 22 of Power Play Daddies

Tanner “T” King is first, all swagger and sharp cheekbones.

“You’re Daisy, right?” he says, his voice smooth as silk.

“That’s me,” I reply, lining him up in front of the backdrop. “Stand there. Relax your shoulders a bit.”

“Relax? I’m always relaxed,” he says, smirking.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure. Try not to look like you’re about to sell cologne in a cheesy ad.”

He laughs, and I snap a few shots.

Rhett Collins follows, quieter but just as intense.

“You’re the photographer?” he asks.

“Journalist,” I correct. “Photography’s part of the gig.”

He nods, stepping into position.

“Look straight at the lens,” I say, adjusting the focus.

“Like this?”

“Perfect. Hold that.”

He doesn’t say much else, but his presence is steady, like he’s used to being the anchor for those around him.

Then there’s Asher Hart, who winks the moment he walks in.

“Don’t flirt with me,” I warn, not even looking up.

“Who said I was flirting?” he says, feigning innocence.

“Your face,” I shoot back.

He laughs, and I catch the perfect shot mid-grin.

One by one, the players come in: Ryder Blackwell with his no-nonsense vibe, Kieran Donovan with a boy-next-door charm, and Hunter Grayson, who looks like he stepped straight out of an action movie.

Each of them brings something different to the session, and I’m in the zone, capturing their personalities through the lens.

The last to walk in is Beau.

My stomach knots the second I see him. His jaw’s tight, and his eyes are cold. Gone is the man who had me gasping his name just days ago.

“Hey,” I say cautiously.

He doesn’t reply.

“Beau—”

“Let’s just get this done,” he snaps, cutting me off. “I’ve got shit to do.”

The words hit like a slap, but I force myself to stay professional. “Fine. Stand there.”

He moves into position, his body tense like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Look at the camera,” I say, keeping my tone steady.