The Stranger I Married-Chapter 46: Shopping

Ella rubbed the back of her neck as she stepped out of the building, exhaustion pulling at her limbs after a long, stressful shift. The fluorescent lights inside had been harsh, the hours grueling, and the endless demands from impatient customers had drained what little energy she had left. Her feet ached, her head throbbed faintly, and all she wanted was a hot shower and some peace.

But instead, the city greeted her with a soft breeze and the low hum of traffic. The sun had just begun its descent, casting the sky in a palette of golden pink and burnt orange. The lights from passing cars flickered against the glass buildings, painting shifting shadows across the pavement. She exhaled, slowly—then froze.

She didn’t expect him to be here.

But there he was—leaning casually against his sleek black car like he had all the time in the world. Hands tucked into his pockets. One ankle crossed over the other. Looking like he’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine or maybe a cinematic dream. The first time she’d met Nicholas Carter, she thought he looked too good to be real. That hadn’t changed.

He wore a navy suit, the cut tailored so perfectly it had to be custom. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, revealing a hint of tanned skin and collarbone. His dark hair was tousled in that frustratingly perfect way—messy, but deliberate. And his grin, cocky and full of charm, tugged at something deep in her stomach.

A few girls walking past slowed down, whispering behind their hands, their eyes drifting from him to her with open envy.

Ella sighed.

He would be the death of her.

Nicholas’s gaze lit up the moment he spotted her. His whole posture shifted, straightening as he pushed off the car. He walked toward her with the kind of lazy confidence that made people turn their heads. The same confidence that had made her blood boil more than once.

"Look at that. My beautiful wife, right on time," he said, voice laced with teasing warmth.

Ella rolled her eyes, even as her cheeks flushed. "I’m not your wife," she muttered under her breath, acutely aware of the people around them.

He leaned in, his lips brushing close to her ear. "The marriage certificate says otherwise, doesn’t it? That makes it official enough for me."

She scowled and pushed gently at his chest. "Stop calling me that in public."

"You love it," he replied, unabashed. "Besides, it’s not like anyone around here knows the full story. Let them assume what they want."

Before she could respond, he took her hand in his and tugged her toward the car. "Come on. I’ve got a surprise."

"A surprise?" she repeated warily.

Nicholas smirked, eyes glinting with mischief. "Yes. One that might bring ecstasy, pleasure—"

"Nicholas," she warned, already feeling her skin heat under his gaze.

He grinned wider and opened the passenger door with a slight bow. "Get in, Mrs. Carter. We’re going shopping."

Ella hesitated. "Shopping? Why?"

"For the gala," he said, slipping into the driver’s seat after closing her door. "You’re going with me, remember?"

She swallowed hard. "It’s been a long time. I don’t even think I know how to socialize at those parties anymore."

Nicholas glanced at her, his expression softening. He reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her cheek. "Then I’ll teach you."

Ella’s heart thudded. It was unfair—how effortlessly he slipped under her skin.

The drive through the city was quiet, except for the occasional song playing softly from the speakers. Every now and then, she caught Nicholas glancing at her. Like she was a puzzle he was still trying to figure out. Or maybe like she was the only thing in the room that mattered. It made her nervous. Made her wish she didn’t care as much as she did.

He pulled up outside a boutique that looked like it belonged on a magazine cover. Tall glass windows framed the storefront, displaying elegant gowns on mannequins under soft golden lighting. The store looked untouched by time or chaos—like something out of her past life, before everything had changed.

"Here?" she asked, staring at the boutique.

"Yes, here," Nicholas said, already out of the car. He opened her door with a smile. "Come on."

"I can’t afford anything in there," she said, hesitant.

"You’re with me," he said simply, offering his hand. "And I have expensive taste."

"I noticed," she muttered, letting him help her out.

Inside, the boutique was hushed and elegant. The scent of lavender and new fabric hung in the air. Soft classical music floated around them as attendants turned their heads, eyes lingering on Nicholas—then flicking curiously to her. She tried not to shrink under their stares.

She didn’t notice the pair watching from across the boutique.

Clara stood in front of a mirror, mid-adjustment, her expression freezing the moment she saw the familiar figure walk through the door. Her perfectly painted lips parted slightly.

Her friend, lounging nearby, looked up from her phone. "What is it?"

"I thought I saw someone," Clara said quietly.

"Who?"

"...Ella."

Her friend blinked, amused. "Your stepsister? Isn’t she like... broke? Jobless?"

Clara gave a strained laugh. "Exactly. It couldn’t have been her."

But she kept staring.

Back near the entrance, Ella was too busy avoiding Nicholas’s overenthusiastic fashion opinions.

"This one?" he said, holding up a slinky emerald number.

"That’s too much skin."

"Not enough, if you ask me."

"Of course you’d say that," she muttered.

After a brief exchange with the concierge, Nicholas led her to a private fitting suite. The corridor they entered was quieter, the lighting dimmer and warmer. Inside, the suite was like a dream—velvet furniture, golden mirrors, and racks of gowns that shimmered in soft light.

Ella touched the silk of a navy gown, her fingers ghosting over the fabric. "Why are we back here?"

"Privacy," Nicholas said, settling on the couch like he owned the world. "And because I don’t want you distracted by jealous glances while you try things on."

She gave him a look, skeptical. "You mean you don’t want to deal with men looking at me."

He smirked, unrepentant. "Guilty."

She should be annoyed. She should roll her eyes and brush off his charm like always. But instead, her lips curved—just slightly.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad surprise after all.