She Flash-Married To His Rival

As her mind wandered, the car glided smoothly into the garage.

With efficiency, Barclay parked the vehicle, greeted by the bright glow of the garage lights. Then, he noticed Moira's rosy cheeks and the intensity in her gaze. "We've arrived," he remarked.

Moira snapped out of her reverie, glancing outside to realize they had reached their destination. "Oh, alright," she replied, swiftly unfastening her seatbelt and stepping out of the car. Yet, as her feet hit the ground, she felt a momentary dizziness. What was happening? Why did she feel a tad lightheaded?

"Leg troubling you?" Barclay inquired.

Moira had barely managed to stand upright when she awkwardly glanced at Barclay. "Not exactly, just a tad dizzy," she confessed.

It wasn't merely a touch of dizziness; a hint of warmth was also washing over her.

Moira instinctively reached up to her cheek, startled. "Am I running a fever?"

"You've been drinking," he stated flatly, not a question but a statement.

Moira pondered for a moment. "No, I only had orange juice with Cynthia when we went upstairs, and later, I had a glass of fruit juice while waiting for you." She hadn't touched any alcohol. Didn't he understand her well enough?

She wouldn't dare drink alcohol.

"That was fruit-infused wine!"

Moira looked at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes."

to

consequences if she were to get tipsy and make a

swiftly

skirt and made a soft sound of amusement before following her

room, Moira swiftly removed her makeup, showered, and then lay on her bed to

drift off despite her efforts. It wasn't merely

feeling brought to mind the dramatic plots Juliet would share in her beloved romance novels, where heroines were often

not unbearable. Just a lingering

lying for a while, moistening her lips again, Moira finally couldn't resist the urge to get up and head downstairs for a

she spotted Barclay pouring himself a glass of water before

shifted his posture and focused his gaze

water and downing

she caught Barclay's steady

only with the quiet rhythm of their

resist breaking the quiet. "Mr. Covington, is

the highest, but

"Not particularly."

cheek thoughtfully. "I don't believe my

him,

that something else bet

completely

feel drawn to kissing