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."

I'm going to

back to lock her door, fearing the consequences if she were to get tipsy and make a

swiftly ascended the stairs to

made a

her makeup, showered, and then lay on

found it increasingly difficult to drift off despite

her beloved romance novels, where heroines were often drugged. But Moira wasn't in that dire situation. She felt restless,

yet not unbearable. Just a

moistening her lips again, Moira finally couldn't resist the urge to get up and head

a glass of water before she even reached the

his posture and focused his gaze on her.

of water and downing it in one

she caught Barclay's steady

spoke, the living room filled only with the quiet rhythm of

resist breaking the quiet. "Mr. Covington, is fruit

tolerance wasn't the highest, but surely it wasn't

"Not particularly."

"I don't believe my tolerance is that

at him, she

it be possible that something else bet mixed into the

completely out

she suddenly feel