LOGINElise was banned from working.After her high fever, Ethan Blackwood had become a dictator."You will stay in bed for three days," he ordered, standing over her bed like a cold general. "Mrs. Hudson will bring you food. Mia will run the shop. You will not touch a single flower. If I find you working, I will lock the shop.""You can't lock my shop! You're not my boss!" Elise protested, wrapped in the duvet like a burrito, still pale."I am your landlord. I own your building. I own your street. I can lock it."Elise had no comeback for that. So she stayed in bed for one whole day, bored out of her mind. She read all the romance novels in the penthouse library, watched TV, and slept.By the second night, at 11:30 p.m., she was going crazy with boredom and hunger.Mrs. Hudson had gone home at 9 p.m. Ethan was still in his study, working, the light under his door glowing. He hadn't come out for dinner.Elise's stomach rumbled. She had eaten the porridge and chicken soup, but she was a girl
Elise Carter made a very stupid mistake.After Ethan bought her entire street and gave her five years free rent, she felt guilty. She thought she had to work ten times harder to prove she wasn't lazy. She thought if she worked hard enough, she could pay him back.So for three days straight, she woke up at 4:30 a.m., went to New Covent Garden Flower Market to get the freshest roses, arranged 50 corporate bouquets for Blackwood Group, managed 30 walk-in customers, hired two more part-time staff, did all the accounts herself, and only slept for four hours.She refused to use Ethan's black card. She refused his driver. She took the tube with buckets of flowers.On the fourth morning, her body gave up.Elise woke up at 6 a.m. in the giant king-size bed in the penthouse, her head pounding like a drum, her throat on fire, her whole body shivering even though the room was warm. She tried to sit up and fell back down. The room was spinning.She had a high fever.Ethan had already left for work
The Petal Pages had never been so busy.After the mysterious £120,000 corporate contract from Kensington Corporate Gifts Ltd, rich ladies from Kensington and Chelsea started coming to Elise's tiny shop in Notting Hill. They all said, "We heard Blackwood Group buys flowers from here, so it must be good."Elise worked from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m., her hands full of thorns but her heart full of hope. She even hired a part-time girl, Mia, to help.Everything was perfect. Except for one person. Her landlord, Mr. Thompson.Mr. Thompson owned the whole row of shops on Portobello Road. He was a greasy man in his 50s who always looked at Elise the wrong way. Every month he came to collect rent himself and said, "Elise, my love, you're too pretty to work so hard. Have dinner with me at the Ritz and I'll cut your rent in half."Elise always said no.But on Thursday at 6 p.m., after Mia had left, he came again and locked the shop door behind him."Elise, darling, I have bad news," he said, stepping too
Elise's phone had been buzzing non-stop since she left Blackwood Tower.It was her sister Sophie. 12 missed calls. 20 text messages.Elise where are you???Please pick up!Mark is in trouble!It's urgent!!!Elise's heart dropped. Mark in trouble? Even though he had called her a leech, he was still her sister's husband, Ava's father. She quickly called back while standing outside the giant Blackwood Tower, still holding the empty lily bouquets.Sophie picked up on the first ring, crying."Elise! Finally! Oh God, Elise, you need to come home! Now!""Sophie, what happened? Is Ava okay?""It's Mark! His company! Blackwood Properties! His boss said he's going to be fired! And we will lose the house! Elise, we have no savings! What will we do with Ava?"Blackwood Properties. Elise had heard that name before. Ethan said he worked as an assistant... maybe it was the same group? Blackwood Group owned many companies."Why is he being fired? He works so hard...""I don't know! His boss said his
Elise Carter had never been to Canary Wharf before.She had seen it from afar, of course — the forest of glass skyscrapers where London's real money lived. Bankers in £5,000 suits, Bentleys, and buildings that touched the clouds. It was a world that had nothing to do with a girl who owned a tiny flower and bookshop in Notting Hill.She stood in front of Blackwood Tower at 9:55 a.m., clutching five bouquets of fresh lilies she had woken up at 5 a.m. to arrange. Her arms ached, her old floral dress was slightly wrinkled from the tube ride, and she felt very, very small.The tower was terrifying. It was 90 floors of black glass and steel, with a giant silver logo at the top: BLACKWOOD GROUP. The same name as her husband.Coincidence, she told herself. A big coincidence. Like Smith.She walked into the lobby and her mouth fell open.The lobby was not a lobby. It was a palace. White marble floors so shiny she could see her reflection, a ceiling that was three floors high, a giant chandelie
Elise Carter had the best sleep of her life.The bed in the Kensington penthouse was not like any bed she had ever slept in. It was like sleeping on a warm, soft cloud that hugged her body. It didn't creak. It didn't have springs poking her back like the old bunk bed at her sister's house. And it smelled amazing — like fresh laundry and something else. Something woody, clean, masculine, and dangerously addictive.She didn't want to wake up.She snuggled deeper into the warmth, her face rubbing against what felt like a very firm, very warm pillow. The pillow even had a heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Strong and steady.A very nice pillow.She sighed happily and threw her arm and leg over the pillow, hugging it.The "pillow" went completely rigid.Elise frowned in her sleep. Pillows don't go rigid. And pillows don't have abs.Her eyes snapped open.She was not hugging a pillow.She was sprawled like an octmodel on top of Ethan Blackwood.The pillow wall she had so carefully built last n







