Don’t Be a Tease, Mr. Blackwood Novel – “Don’t wait any longer. He’s not coming.” Sophie Shaw was standing in the pouring rain when a black umbrella suddenly appeared over her head. Hearing the voice, she turned to see Alaric Blackwood standing behind her, holding the umbrella. “Damian Morgan is getting married.” A thunderclap went off in Sophie Shaw’s head, as if she’d been struck by lightning. “What did you say?” ‘Damian’s getting married?’ ‘With whom?’ ‘But we were supposed to elope tonight!’ She had been waiting for hours. She couldn’t reach Damian Morgan’s phone and was worried he’d been in an accident or delayed by an emergency. “Did you ever consider me, your fiancé, before running off with another man?” Alaric Blackwood’s strong-featured face was tinged with anger. “I’ll deal with you later. The reporters are almost here. Come with me.” He grabbed her wrist and forced her into a black Maybach.
She was tossed into the passenger seat, chilled to the bone and shivering uncontrollably. The man single-handedly lifted her soaking-wet suitcase and tossed it into the trunk. The entire motion was crisp and efficient. She was surprised to see Alaric Blackwood under these circumstances. They were hardly close. Before she died, her mother had been best friends with Alaric Blackwood’s mother, and they had arranged a childhood engagement for their children. But her mother had passed away from an illness just a few years after she was born. Over the years, the relationship between the two families had grown distant, and they had little contact. She started dating Damian Morgan in college and never imagined that after all these years, with her mother gone, the childhood engagement would still be considered valid. A few days ago, the Blackwoods had come to formally propose the marriage.
The absurd part was, the wedding was decided without her consent. Alaric Blackwood had a reckless, devil-may-care reputation. Rumor had it he was quite the player. She didn’t want to marry such a playboy. To be with the man she loved, she and Damian Morgan had planned to leave tonight. They had agreed to meet at six. It was now two in the morning. BUZZ BUZZ— The phone in her pocket vibrated. It was a text from Damian Morgan: [Sophie, don’t wait for me. I’ll explain tomorrow.] ‘Finally.’ After an agonizing eight-hour wait, all she got was this one cold, perfunctory line? They had promised to leave together. She had gathered all her courage, ready to leave everything behind… ‘Has he changed his mind? Does he not want to go with me anymore?’ ‘And what did Alaric Blackwood mean when he said Damian was getting married?’ A strong sense of unease washed over Sophie Shaw, and her heart felt as if a piece had been carved out of it. She called Damian Morgan’s number back, but no one answered.
“The news of you eloping with Damian Morgan has been leaked.” Alaric Blackwood got back in the car, his first words hitting her like a ton of bricks. “The good news is, I got here before the media, so you weren’t photographed looking pathetic for the headlines.” The man lit a cigarette, took a hard drag, and tried his best to suppress his anger. “The bad news is, the news of Damian Morgan’s marriage is true. The bride-to-be is my childhood friend, the eldest daughter of the Kane Family.” ‘Vianne Kane?’ ‘Her stepsister!’ Sophie Shaw’s mind was in a turmoil. A film of moisture quickly veiled her wide, almond-shaped eyes. “You’re lying, right? Damian would never abandon me to marry someone else.” ‘And of all people, he’s marrying *her*? The one who’s always antagonizing me, who’s so difficult and peculiar.’ “Sophie Shaw, this isn’t like you.” “…” ‘As if he knows me so well.’ ‘We’ve only been forced to meet a few times.’ “Given our relationship, I’ll give you two options.” Alaric Blackwood cracked the window open and flicked his half-smoked cigarette out. “Marry me, and you’ll get the title of Mrs. Blackwood and everything you could possibly want…” “I don’t want to.” Sophie Shaw didn’t even give him a chance to finish, cutting him off coldly.
“I don’t want to marry you.” The light in Alaric Blackwood’s eyes dimmed instantly. His deep, alluring eyes narrowed slightly; he hadn’t expected Sophie Shaw’s rejection to come so quickly. His face burned as if he’d just been slapped. “Then get out of the car.” His tone was non-negotiable. As he spoke, he glanced at his watch. “The reporters will be here in two minutes, tops.” Sophie Shaw didn’t move. “Not getting out?” “No.” It was pouring outside, it was the middle of the night, and she was at a station far from the city. She wouldn’t be able to get a cab. Getting out meant not only continuing to get soaked in the rain, but also being photographed by reporters. “Please, just take me somewhere I can get a cab.” As if to deliberately spite her, Alaric Blackwood didn’t start the car. Seeing her shivering from the cold, he took off his jacket, tossed it to her, and turned on the car’s heater. A van from a media agency pulled up outside the station. Reporters in raincoats, armed with long-lens cameras, jumped out and started milling around. “Where is she?” “Weren’t we told she was waiting at this station?” … ‘So there really are reporters!’ Sophie Shaw frowned.
“Who leaked the information?” “Look it up yourself.” Sophie Shaw picked up her phone, opened the news app, and found Vianne Kane’s official announcement at the top of the trending list. The headline was explosive: *Famous Actress Vianne Kane Announces Marriage; Fiancé Allegedly Plotted to Elope with Mistress Tonight?* She tapped on it and saw a grid of nine photos. Vianne Kane, smiling sweetly in a haute couture gown, was arm-in-arm with Damian Morgan. He was in a suit, looking like a perfect pair with Vianne Kane at a high-end restaurant. The post was made six hours ago, and the number of comments was still skyrocketing. A tightness gripped Sophie Shaw’s chest. She forced a bitter smile.