She Flash-Married To His Rival by Harber Venus

She reached up, her fingers curling around his neck, turning her face to rest against Barclay's chest with feigned casualness.

She thought, 'No surprise it was Barclay. How could he carry me so swiftly without even a gasp, keeping his heartbeat steady as ever! Ah, what a strong physique he had. Perhaps that portrayal in novels of a CEO capable of seven encounters in a single night refers to Mr. Covington! Moira, don't indulge in idle fantasies!'

After a journey filled with wandering thoughts, Moira was finally escorted to the emergency room doors. Despite her slightly flushed complexion, she appeared remarkably sturdy compared to the other patients in the ER.

Barclay seated her in a chair outside the door and went off to register her.

Moira instinctively moved to follow, but he had already anticipated her intention. Like calming a child, he raised his hand and gently patted her head. "Stay put for me."

Moira suspected Barclay even added a "be good" at the end, though she had no evidence.

It had been years since anyone had treated Moira so tenderly, not since she was ten. Even though Aiken often comforted her, he never patted her head.

Her already warm cheeks flushed even more. Obediently nodding, she watched as Barclay walked toward the registration desk.

With the hospital relatively quiet at this hour, Barclay returned promptly and sat beside her.

The woman across from them had been studying Moira intently, evidently puzzled by her flushed appearance as she hurried into the ER.

Barclay helplessly. "Mr.

Barclay chuckled. "Weren't you

Moira closed her eyes and rested her head against Barclay's shoulder,

the woman's attention, who now redirected her gaze

undoubtedly warranted a second look! But what was the woman's fascination? Why was she incessantly

pursed her lips and reached out to grasp Barclay's hand. "What time is

at her and voluntarily extended his wristwatch-clad hand. "It's half past ten,"

late,"

Barclay reassured her, "You'll

tomorrow?" Moira inquired, tilting her head before sliding

still clad in his pajamas. Moira could see the muscular chest

move away, shamelessly leaning closer. Unbeknownst to her, while she admired the view, she was also a sight to

his black sleepwear. Her fair cheeks glowed against the dark fabric, resembling a blooming flower Observing her fluttering eyelashes, his dark eyes softened as he clenched his fist with restraint. "We can postpone," he

felt like a sinner for delaying Mr. Covington

glanced at the display screen next to the examination room door, catching sight of her name just as the intercom began announcing it: "Number 018, Moira, please proceed

your turn," Barclay said, releasing his clenched fist and taking her