Chapter 116 116
DAISY POV
I stood there frozen, still clutching the pillow like it could somehow protect me. My damp hair dripped onto my shoulders, and the towel suddenly felt way too thin. These two women looked like they had stepped out of a magazine, while I looked like I had just rolled out of bed.
The one with the deep red lips and wavy hair smiled wider, her eyes kind but assessing. “Hi, Daisy. I’m Zara. This is Lena.” She gestured to the woman beside her with the sleek bob and cat-like eyes. “Diesel sent us.”
My stomach did a nervous flip. “Diesel sent you?” I cleared my throat. “Um… why?”
Lena stepped forward, smiling confidently, a large sleek bag over her shoulder. “He wants you to feel special today. We’re here to help you get ready — hair, makeup, everything. He already picked the dress.”
Zara lifted another bag. “And some finishing touches. He said you might feel shy, so we should come gently.”
I blinked, heat creeping up my neck. Of course he would do something like this. “Come in,” I said quickly, stepping aside.
While they unpacked their tools on the small table, I slipped behind the changing screen and pulled on one of Diesel’s clean t-shirts and shorts. When I stepped out, they got to work.
Thirty minutes later, my hair fell in soft, loose waves and my makeup looked fresh and natural — dewy skin, soft pink lips, and just enough mascara to make my eyes stand out. The cream-colored dress with delicate lace hugged me beautifully without feeling tight.
I turned toward the mirror and barely recognized myself. I looked… pretty. Confident.
A knock sounded on the door. Zara opened it.
Diesel stepped inside, and my breath caught for an entirely different reason.
He was no longer in his usual jeans, leather cut, and boots. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that made his broad shoulders look even wider and his waist lean. The crisp white shirt underneath was open at the collar, revealing a hint of ink on his chest. His hair was styled back, and the dangerous edge he always carried now looked sharper — like a mafia boss who had traded his bike for power suits. He looked breathtaking. Dangerous. Mine.
I couldn’t stop staring.
Diesel’s eyes locked on me and he stopped mid-step. The usual smirk faded into something raw. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, then louder, “Daisy… you look incredible.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. “You… you look really good too,” I whispered, unable to hide how much I admired him. “Like… really good.”
He crossed the room in a few strides, stopping close enough that I could smell his cologne — something dark and expensive. His hand gently tucked a loose wave of hair behind my ear. “Ready?”
I nodded, slipping my hand into his. Zara and Lena quietly gathered their things and slipped out with knowing smiles.
The hallways of the clubhouse were strangely quiet as we walked out. No brothers lounging around, no loud voices or laughter. It felt like they had cleared everyone out on purpose so no one would see us leaving. Just me and Diesel.
When we stepped outside into the bright morning, the first thing that hit me was the dress. How on earth was I supposed to ride on the back of his bike in this? The fabric was soft and flowy, but definitely not biker-chick material. I bit my lip, trying to figure out how to tell him without sounding ungrateful.
I was still turning the problem over in my head when a low, smooth engine sound approached. A sleek black car glided to a stop right in front of us.
My mouth fell open.
It was a Rolls-Royce Phantom. I didn’t know much about cars, but I knew this one. My father was a failed mechanic who once worked on a similar model for a rich client. He had accidentally damaged something expensive while trying to fix it. The owner had been furious, and my father ended up spending months in prison over the repair bill he couldn’t pay. That man had screamed that his car cost over five hundred thousand dollars.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
And now one was sitting right here, shining under the sun like it belonged to royalty and worst I DAISY will be sitting inside it.
My mind went blank. I turned slowly to look at Diesel, eyes wide with disbelief. How could a biker — even one who ran a club — have access to something like this?
Diesel caught my stunned expression and gave me that slow, knowing smirk. He opened the passenger door for me like a gentleman.
“This fits you better than a bike,” he said, voice low and teasing.
I slid into the butter-soft leather seat, still speechless. The inside smelled like luxury and money. As Diesel closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, my heart raced with a mix of excitement and happy confusion.
This man… who was he, really?
He got in, started the engine with a quiet, powerful purr, and reached over to take my hand.
“Ready for our day out?” he asked, thumb brushing over my knuckles.
I could only nod, a big, silly smile breaking across my face despite my shock.
Whatever today held, it was already far beyond anything I had ever imagined.