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.

scrutiny, Moira glanced at Barclay helplessly. "Mr.

her request, Barclay chuckled. "Weren't you quite

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

draw the woman's attention, who now redirected her gaze

'Such a striking man undoubtedly warranted a second look! But what was the woman's fascination? Why was she incessantly eyeing my husband? Even if he's a fictional husband,

to grasp Barclay's hand. "What time

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

late,"

reassured her, "You'll be

tomorrow?" Moira inquired, tilting

hospital, still clad in his pajamas. Moira could see the muscular chest beneath his collar from her vantage

while she admired the view, she was also

nestled against his black sleepwear. Her fair cheeks glowed against the dark fabric, resembling a blooming flower Observing her fluttering eyelashes,

words. She felt like a sinner for delaying

clarified Moira's mind, prompting her to stand up straight. She 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,

his clenched fist