My Wife Is Not For Sale

Elise woke up in a bed that felt like sleeping on a cloud.

For a second, she forgot where she was. The ceiling was too high, the curtains were too expensive, and the London skyline was glittering outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Right. She was married.

She sat up quickly, her hair a mess. The master bedroom door was slightly open, and she could smell coffee. Strong, expensive coffee.

She tiptoed out in her old faded pajamas - a t-shirt with a small hole and shorts - and found Ethan in the kitchen.

He was already dressed for work. A sharp charcoal grey suit, white shirt, no tie, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was reading the Financial Times on his tablet and drinking black coffee. He looked like he had been up for hours. He looked like a CEO on the cover of a magazine, not an ordinary office worker.

He glanced up when she entered.

"Morning," he said, his voice still cold but not as icy as yesterday.

"Good morning, Mr. Blackwood," Elise said awkwardly, clutching her pajama shirt. "You... you made coffee?"

"Mrs. Hudson made it. She left an hour ago. She also made breakfast. It's in the warmer."

Elise looked at the kitchen island. There was avocado toast, smoked salmon, poached eggs, fresh fruits, and croissants from what looked like a very expensive bakery.

"All this... for me? I usually just have tea," she mumbled.

Ethan frowned. "You need to eat properly. You're too thin." He said it like a statement, not concern, but Elise's ears turned red.

She sat down and ate quietly while he typed furiously on his phone. The silence was so loud.

"Um, Mr. Blackwood, I'm going to open my shop today. The Petal Pages. It's in Notting Hill. I have to be there by 9 a.m. So... I'll be out all day."

Ethan didn't look up from his phone. "I'll have my driver take you."

"No! No need! I have my e-bike... I mean, I can take the tube. Your company apartment is very close to the tube, right?"

Finally, he looked up. His grey eyes scanned her from her messy bed hair to her old slippers.

"The tube is crowded. Take a cab. Use the card I gave you."

"I can manage," Elise insisted. She didn't want to owe him more. She stood up, washed her plate - even though he told her to leave it - and went to change.

When she came out in her normal clothes - a simple floral dress and a cardigan, carrying her tote bag - Ethan was gone. But on the kitchen island, there was a small black box.

Inside was a brand new iPhone 15 Pro Max, and a note in sharp handwriting: My number is saved. For emergencies. - E.B.

Elise stared at it. Her old phone had a cracked screen and died at 40%.

"He's cold but... weirdly thoughtful," she whispered, and slipped her old phone into her bag, leaving the new one on the table. She didn't want to take such an expensive gift.

At 8:45 a.m., Elise opened her tiny shop, The Petal Pages. It was her dream. Half flower shop, half second-hand bookshop. It smelled like roses and old paper. But business had been terrible for months. She could barely make £3,000 a month.

She was watering the roses when the bell above the door chimed.

A man in a very expensive suit walked in, holding a briefcase. Not a customer who would normally come here.

"Are you Miss Elise Carter?" he asked.

"Yes, that's me."

"I'm Mr. Davies from Kensington Corporate Gifts Ltd. Our company would like to place a long-term order. We need 50 luxury flower bouquets every Monday for our offices across London. And 100 books - self-help and business - for our staff library every month. Our budget is £10,000 per week. Can you handle it?"

Elise's watering can almost fell.

"Ten... ten thousand pounds a week?"

"Yes. And we will pay three months in advance. £120,000 today, if you sign this contract."

He placed a contract and a cheque on her counter.

Elise's hands were shaking. £120,000! That would clear all her debts, save her shop, and let her finally stop feeling like a burden. It was a miracle.

"Why... why my small shop? There are bigger florists..."

Mr. Davies smiled politely. "Our Chairman's wife loves small, independent shops. He specifically asked us to support local businesses like yours. Please sign here."

Elise, with tears in her eyes, signed. It felt like God finally heard her prayers.

The moment Mr. Davies left, another customer entered. This one was different. He was young, handsome, with blonde hair and a charming smile. Leo, her classmate from university who had always had a crush on her.

"Ellie! Wow, look at you! Still running this cute little shop?"

"Leo! What are you doing here?" Elise smiled genuinely. It was nice to see a familiar face.

"I was in the area. Heard you got married? No way! Who's the lucky guy? You never even had a boyfriend in uni!"

Elise's smile faded. "Ah, it's... it's a long story. Just someone Grandma introduced..."

Leo leaned on the counter, closer than necessary. "Ellie, if he doesn't treat you right, you know I'm always here, right? I've always liked you. We could grab dinner tonight and catch up? Just old friends?"

Before Elise could answer, the bell chimed again. Hard.

The temperature in the shop dropped ten degrees.

Ethan Blackwood stood at the door.

He wasn't in his morning suit. He was in a full black three-piece suit now, his hair perfectly styled, his face like a thunderstorm. Behind him, two bodyguards in black stood like statues, blocking the entrance.

He didn't look like an office worker at all. He looked like a god of war who owned the street.

His eyes, cold and sharp, landed on Leo leaning close to Elise.

"Elise," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You left your phone at home."

Elise froze. "Mr... Mr. Blackwood? What are you doing here?"

Ethan walked in, ignored Leo completely, and placed the new iPhone box on the counter.

"You forgot this. And you forgot to have lunch. Mrs. Hudson said you didn't take the breakfast."

Leo looked between them, confused. "Ellie, who is this?"

Ethan finally turned his gaze to Leo. One look. Leo felt his blood freeze.

"I'm her husband," Ethan said, each word like ice.

Leo's eyes widened. "Husband?! Ellie, you married... this...?"

Ethan stepped forward, placing a possessive hand on Elise's waist. Elise went stiff. His hand was large and hot through her dress.

"My wife's shop is not a place for idle chat during business hours," Ethan said to Leo, his voice polite but with a threat underneath that made Leo step back. "She is very busy. With our £120,000 contract."

Leo paled. "£120,000? Ellie, is that true?"

Elise was still in shock from Ethan's hand on her waist.

Ethan pulled out a chair and sat down like he owned the shop, crossing his long legs.

"Honey, introduce us. Is this your friend?" he asked Elise, but his eyes never left Leo.

"H-He's my classmate, Leo," Elise stammered. "Leo, this is Ethan... my husband."

Ethan smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Leo. My wife is not free for dinner. She has to come home and have dinner with me. Every night. Right, honey?"

He squeezed her waist.

Elise's face was tomato red. "Y-Yes!"

Leo got the message loud and clear. "Ah, I see... I have to go! Congrats, Ellie! Bye!"

He practically ran out.

The moment he left, Elise pushed Ethan's hand away.

"Mr. Blackwood! Why did you do that? And why are you here? And how did you know about the £120,000 contract? That just happened five minutes ago!"

Ethan's cold facade cracked for a second. He coughed.

"My driver's route passed by here. And Mrs. Hudson told me you left your phone. And I have eyes everywhere. This is London."

He stood up, adjusting his cuffs. "And don't call me Mr. Blackwood in front of others. It sounds strange for a husband and wife. Call me Ethan."

"E-Ethan," Elise whispered, trying the name.

Something in Ethan's chest tightened when he heard her say his name like that, soft and shy.

"Good," he said gruffly. "I'm going back to work. Don't work too late. Come home early. And block that Leo guy."

He walked out, leaving behind the faint scent of his expensive cologne.

Elise watched him get into a black Bentley - not the Volkswagen from yesterday - that was parked illegally outside, with a driver bowing.

An ordinary office worker... with a Bentley and bodyguards?

For the first time, Elise thought: Who exactly did I marry?