Refusing To Be His Perfect Replica, I Choose The Arranged Marriag by BlueMoone

Chapter 9

Alexander kept his arm around my waist, gently pulling me aside.

“He’ll kill him!” I hissed, watching William approach with the vintage cricket bat.

A dangerous smile played across Alexander’s sculpted features. “Darling, death would be too merciful.“

He pulled out his phone, his upper–class accent dripping with dark amusement: “Have a medical team on standby at the Blackwood estate. Discretion is paramount.”

His thumb traced lazy circles on my hip, completely at odds with the tension in the air.

I shot him an incredulous look..

Castro dragged his gaze from William’s approaching figure, his perfectly maintained facade crumbling like his mud–stained Armani. “Aveline, we never properly ended things. This arranged marriage – it’s just business. You can’t possibly-”

The crack of willow on bone cut through the morning air as William’s cricket bat connected with surgical

precision.

Castro crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain.

“I’ve been standing here listening to your bullshit,” William snarled. “You manipulated my sister, struck her, and now you have the audacity to make demands?” Another swing punctuated his words.

Despite his designer suit now being thoroughly ruined by grass stains, Castro kept his desperate eyes. locked on me, dragging himself forward like a wounded animal.

“Will, stop!” I called out as he raised the bat again.

Castro’s eyes. “You see?

and approached James. His triumphant smile froze as I crouched before him, letting my palm connect with his

us square. Next time you raise a hand to me, I

out – it’s rather difficult to break up when you never publicly acknowledged me as your girlfriend, isn’t it? Hard to end something that officially never existed.”

Chapter 9

make this crystal clear, Castro: I don’t love

Castro’s broken form sprawled across our front

still

to face murder charges over

but couldn’t resist straddling Castro’s prone form to deliver a

worked out his rage, Alexander signaled the waiting medical team. Four uniformed paramedics efficiently loaded our unwanted

we turned to leave, Castro’s voice rang out with vindictive spite.

grace. I caught William’s Savile

his Italian leather shoe into Castro’s injured leg, grinding down with precise pressure.

know,” he remarked conversationally, though his eyes were arctic, “you’re making quite

front–row seat to watch

“Take him away.”

the ambulance had disappeared down the private drive, Alexander’s demeanor shifted

gentle. “Shall we hit Bond Street? Perhaps start with Cartier, work our way down to Chanel?”

After such

“Why shopping?”

lips quirked into

cure for a woman’s

too!” William interjected hopefully. “I