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."

"Mr. Covington, I'm going to shower and turn in!"

While still clear-headed, she hurried back to lock her door, fearing the consequences if she were to get tipsy and make a spectacle of herself later!

With those words spoken, Moira swiftly ascended the stairs to her room.

and made a soft sound of amusement before following her

Moira swiftly removed her makeup, showered, and then

despite her efforts. It wasn't merely warmth she felt. There was

mind the dramatic plots Juliet would share in her beloved romance novels, where heroines were often drugged. But Moira

yet not unbearable. Just a lingering

a while, moistening her lips again, Moira finally couldn't resist the

a glass of water before she even

shower

Fress, he perched

in high

one leg casually

the other.

and focused his

nodded, grabbing a glass of water and downing it in one

caught Barclay's steady

living room filled only with the quiet

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

the highest, but surely it wasn't that

"Not particularly."

don't believe my tolerance is

him, she

Covington, could it

that something

mixed into the wine?"

completely

she suddenly feel

What was going on?

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

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