She Flash-Married To His Rival

Chapter 8

Moira had never won so completely as today against Claire. She used to care too much about Alfie, so there was no way she could be rational when provoked by Claire. She knew Claire was an angelic bitch, but she kept walking into her traps, and every time, she would lose and end up like a clown.

After getting over Alfie, she was able to see through Claire's petty tricks. What a fool she was!

Moira was overjoyed when she thought of Claire's angry, twisted face.

She put the phone down, turned off the light, and lay back down. That night, Moira slept like never before. Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

The next morning, even Aiken noticed how good she looked. She had two extra buns due to her good mood. Aiken also felt at ease and went to the company to handle the accumulated tasks. Juliet had been absent from work for a month to care for Moira, and Moira insisted she go to work today.

Moira went to the piano room after breakfast. She had been lying in the hospital bed for more than a month, and her hands were almost rusty.

Touching her beloved piano, she was soon in her own world.

If not for the sudden ringing of her cell phone, Moira would spend the whole morning in the world of music.

Moira stopped to pick up the phone on the side and couldn't help but frown when she saw the unfamiliar number.

'Claire sure doesn't know when to give up,' she thought and answered it.

"Claire, go marry Alfie. I don't give a damn!" she said to the phone.

"It's me, Ms. Jimenez." A low male voice came from the phone.

Moira was shocked. Her hand hit the piano, making a loud sound. The birds outside were startled and flew up.

Moira realized she had been rude to the wrong person and was embarrassed. "Mr. Covington?"

"I'm outside the villa, Ms. Jimenez," said Barclay.

Moira hurriedly moved the wheelchair to the window and saw a Bentley was parked downstairs.

"Er, hi, Mr. Covington. What brought you here?" She couldn't go downstairs because of her leg, so she had to ask first. But then, she suddenly remembered why he was there.

Apparently, Barclay also sensed something was wrong. He asked absent-mindedly, "Is this supposed to be a joke or something?"

"No, Mr. Covington. Listen, I..." She choked.

'What's there to explain? That I used him against Alfie? Maybe I should admit I'm a jerk,' thought Moira.

She didn't know what Barclay was thinking, but man, this was a hell of a compensation.

"Are you playing with me, Ms. Jimenez?" Barclay asked again.

Moira denied sheepishly. "No! Let me get my passport right away."

As soon as she finished speaking, she heard Barclay's voice behind her. "Ms. Jimenez, considering your injury, you may need my help."

Moira was tongue-tied. But Barclay seemed more interested in urging her to get her passport than helping her.

Barclay walked forward and scooped her. She smelled his cologne and subconsciously wrapped her arms around his neck.

Barclay straightened up and glanced at her faintly. "You don't need the wheelchair."

He carried her and headed outside. "Where is your passport, Ms. Jimenez?" he asked.

"In... in my room," answered Moira.

She was looking at his chin and answered corespondingly.

When Barclay put the passport inside his pocket, Moira wanted to say something. But when his dark eyes looked down, she swallowed slightly and inexplicably wimped out.

She would never play with him.