Chapter 94 94
DAISY POV
I followed Diesel to the exclusive section. He actually waited for me at the doorway and held my hand, his fingers lacing through mine in that quiet, steady way that made my stomach flutter. It felt romantic — like we were a normal couple doing normal things, even though nothing about us was normal.
The moment we stepped inside, my eyes widened.
The clothes here were damn beautiful. Everything looked so pretty and delicate. I couldn’t help myself. The second we entered, my gaze caught on a beautiful blue dress hanging on a low rack. It wasn’t exactly a sundress, but it had that soft, flowing feel — light fabric, a gentle neckline, the kind of piece that made you imagine spinning around in it on a warm day.
I rushed forward without thinking and reached out to touch it, my fingers brushing the soft material.
“Wow…” I whispered.
Then my eyes landed on the price tag.
My hand froze mid-air.
The number staring back at me was more than I used to make in several months of scraping by. My stomach twisted. This wasn’t just expensive — it was ridiculous.
I turned to look at Diesel, my mouth slightly open. He was watching me with that calm, unreadable expression, one corner of his mouth slightly lifted.
He didn’t say anything. He just squeezed my hand gently, like he already knew what I was thinking.
“Diesel…” I started, my voice low. “This is… too much.”
He stepped closer, his chest brushing my shoulder as he looked at the dress with me.
“You like it?” he asked simply.
I bit my lip. The dress really was beautiful. The soft blue would look nice against my skin, and the cut seemed like it would fit me perfectly. But the price…
“I do,” I admitted quietly, “but I don’t need something this expensive. We can just get the normal stuff from earlier.”
Diesel didn’t reply right away. Instead, he reached out with his free hand and lifted the dress off the rack, holding it up so I could see it better under the soft lighting.
“Try it on,” he said, his voice low and firm, but there was a warmth in it that made my cheeks heat up.
I hesitated for a second, then took the dress from him and slipped into the fitting room. When I stepped out a few minutes later, the fabric felt light and luxurious against my skin. The dress hugged my body in all the right places without being too tight.
Diesel’s eyes darkened the moment he saw me. He didn’t speak at first — he just looked, slow and appreciative, like he was committing every detail to memory.
“You look good,” he finally said, his voice rougher than before. “Really good.”
The woman from earlier stood a respectful distance away, but I could still feel her occasional glances. This time, though, I didn’t let it bother me as much. Diesel’s hand found mine again, his thumb stroking the back of my knuckles.
“Anything else catch your eye?” he asked.
I glanced around the section. There were a few more pieces that made my heart skip — a soft cream sweater, a pair of perfectly cut black pants, a simple but elegant white blouse. But every price tag made me pause.
“Diesel, these are crazy expensive,” I whispered, stepping closer to him so the woman wouldn’t hear. “I don’t want you spending this much on me.”
He tilted his head, studying me for a moment before he leaned down, his lips brushing my ear.
“I hate it when you don’t know what you deserve.”
His words sent a warm shiver down my spine. I wanted to argue, but the way he said it — calm, certain, possessive — made it hard to push back.
Before I could say anything else, he nodded toward the woman.
“We’ll take the blue dress, the cream sweater, the black pants, and the white blouse. Wrap them up.”
The woman nodded quickly and started preparing the items. I stood there, heart racing, feeling both overwhelmed and strangely cared for.
As we waited, Diesel pulled me gently against his side, his arm wrapping around my waist. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head.
“Stop worrying,” he murmured. “I like seeing you in nice things.”
I leaned into him, letting myself enjoy the moment even as my mind whispered that this kind of life might not last forever.
After everything was wrapped up, the woman had already rung up the clothes and was packing the last bag when Diesel suddenly spoke.
“You’re missing something more important,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I turned to him, confused. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at the woman and asked calmly, “Do you have a section for intimate wear? Lingerie?”
The woman blinked, then nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. Right this way.”
She led us to a more private corner of the store, separated by a heavy black curtain. The lighting here was softer, warmer, and the displays were elegant — delicate lace, silk, and satin pieces arranged like art.
Diesel turned to the woman. “I’ll pick this part myself. You can wait outside.”
She gave a small bow and stepped back behind the curtain, leaving us alone.
My heart started beating faster. I watched as Diesel moved through the section with calm confidence, his fingers brushing over different pieces like he knew exactly what he was looking for.
He stopped at a rack of soft black lace. He picked up a delicate bra and matching panty set — simple but incredibly sensual, with thin straps and just enough coverage to tease. The fabric looked expensive and barely there.
He held it up, his eyes meeting mine.
“This one,” he said, voice rougher than before.
Heat rushed to my face. I imagined wearing it for him — the way the lace would sit against my skin, how little it would leave to the imagination.
Diesel didn’t stop there. He chose more sets: one in deep burgundy silk that looked luxurious and sinful, and another in soft cream lace that felt almost innocent but wasn’t.
He added a short, sheer black robe that tied at the waist, then turned to me with all the pieces draped over his arm.
“These are for you,” he said simply. “I want to see you in them.”
My cheeks burned hotter. I opened my mouth to say something — maybe protest that it was too much — but the way he was looking at me made the words die in my throat.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
“When we get back, you’re going to try them on for me. Slowly.”
The promise in his words sent a shiver down my spine. I nodded, too flustered to speak.
Diesel paid for everything without hesitation, using that same sleek black card. The woman kept her eyes down this time, professional and silent.
As we walked out of the boutique with the bags in hand, Diesel took my hand again, his thumb stroking the back of my knuckles.
“You okay?” he asked, glancing at me.
I nodded, still feeling the warmth in my face.
“Yeah… just not used to this.”
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said softly. “Because I’m not stopping.”
We reached the bike and he helped me on, securing my helmet before climbing on himself. As the engine roared to life and we pulled away from the boutique, I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist and rested my cheek against his back.
The ride back felt peaceful at first. The afternoon breeze was still cool against my skin, and I rested my cheek against his broad back. The bags from the boutique were secured on the bike, and for a few minutes I let myself enjoy the simple rhythm of the ride.
Then I saw it.
A modest but clean-looking building on the corner of a quieter street. It had large glass windows, a simple sign I couldn’t quite read from this distance, and people moving inside. Something about it made a dot connect in my head — a memory of normal life, of having a purpose, of earning my own money instead of hiding.
I tapped Diesel’s shoulder urgently.
He slowed the bike and pulled over to the side of the road, killing the engine.
I pointed at the building. “Can I work there?”
Diesel turned his head to look at me. For a second he just stared, like he wasn’t sure he had heard me right. Then he removed his helmet, his storm-gray eyes locking onto mine with sharp intensity.
“Are you joking right now?”
His voice was low, dangerous, and completely serious.
“Do you love to piss me off?”