Zavian's lips curved into an inscrutable smile at her words, though the expression didn't quite reach his eyes. "A soft stomach is better than a muscled stomach for a woman," he stated flatly.
Emmeline bristled at his words. Who was he to dictate what was or wasn't attractive on a woman's body?
Zavian jerked his chin toward a nearby machine with a curved, padded track before she could voice her indignation.
"That's an ab roller. Use that for your core," he instructed.
Emmeline hmphed then moved to stand before the indicated machine.
She eyed it with a bewildered frown as she tried to puzzle out how it was meant to be used.
Zavian let out a sigh, clearly resigning himself to providing guidance.
"Put your knees on the seat—be careful, it moves. Fix your arms on the support and ho
