Chapter 138: Elvis's Darling

Olive's heart skipped a beat as she gazed into his eyes. Reaching out, she grasped his index finger. The scene felt like a replay from twenty years earlier, when Elvis first met Olive, a glutinous baby dumpling.

In the nursery, Joyce appeared pretty and elegant. Unaware of the unfolding scene, Anabelle's beautiful, sad eyes slowly softened into a smile. Elvis stood by the cradle. Anabelle approached and gently stroked his head.

"Elvis, this will be your future wife."

In the cradle, Olive stared at him with wide eyes, waving her hands and tugging at his finger. She held on tightly, refusing to let go. She grinned. Elvis's handsome face flushed as he turned and returned to his room. Leaving, he overheard Joyce's beautiful voice conversing with Anabelle.

"This is the first time I've seen Elvis smile."

Unbeknownst to Elvis, the girl clinging to him was his betrothed. Now, Olive stared at him provocatively.

"Thank me for helping you relieve your dreams."

Elvis realized that any mention of his bride made Olive jealous, a jealousy he found endearing.

"Mrs. Augustine, your skin is itchy again, isn't it?" His fingers landed on the buttons of her pajamas, intending to unbutton them.

Olive knocked away his hand, pushing him away and attempting to flee.

"Mr. Augustine, don't mess around!"

Elvis grabbed her ankle, pulling her back. They tumbled onto the bed, Olive struggling to free herself. The wooden bed creaked.

A cough from the next room startled Olive. She froze, remembering she was in the dormitory and the sounds from the bed could be misinterpreted. Shame flooded her face; she was certain the neighboring students had misunderstood and judged her harshly. She covered her face with her hands.

Elvis pulled Olive into a tight hug. She hammered his chest, muttering,

"It's all your fault."

Elvis smirked. "What are you afraid of? Does anyone not know the man in your room is me? It's perfectly legal for us to share a bed."

Olive, wanting to avoid further conversation with the shameless Elvis, changed the subject.

"What's wrong with your aunt? Why doesn't she like you?"

"A woman like my mother had many admirers, and my uncle was among them."

"What?" Olive was speechless. "Then what happened? What's the story between your mother and father? And your stepmother, Lily?" Olive pressed, eager for gossip.

Olive suspected Elvis had only scratched the surface of the story.

Elvis rolled over, pinning her wrist above her head. He began unbuttoning her pajamas.

"I've chatted with you long enough. Time to turn off the lights."

Olive felt her buttons being unfastened. A chill touched her skin as the breeze hit her. She wanted to struggle but found herself imprisoned, unable to move.

"Mr. Augustine, just sleep. Don't do anything under the guise of sleeping. Let me go!"

Elvis kissed her forehead, his lips trailing down to her eyes, nose, and finally her lips.

"Shh! Mrs. Augustine, don't yell. The next student will hear you."

Terrified, Olive held her breath, unable to move or make a sound. She could only stare at him with watery eyes.

Elvis buried his face in her hair, whispering hoarsely, "I want to see if you've grown up."

Olive quickly closed her eyes, waiting for sleep.

Divine handed Olive a package.

"Olive, this is for you."

Olive examined the box. The return address was Bounty's. Bounty had called to get Olive's address; she hadn't expected the package so quickly.

"Olive, what's inside?" Divine asked curiously.

"I don't know. I'll open it." Inside was a beautiful evening gown.

"Wow! This dress is so beautiful!" Divine exclaimed.

The long, nude-colored dress shimmered with countless crystals. It was stunning. Bounty, of noble birth, possessed impeccable taste. A note accompanied the dress:

"Looking forward to seeing you tonight, my Olive."

The dinner party was at dusk. After considering the invitation, Olive texted Elvis:

"Mr. Augustine, I'm going to a party tonight, okay?"

Elvis, leaving the CEO's office and heading for the VIP elevator, had no intention of bringing Olive to the party. He wanted to shield her from the Augustine family and his difficult past. Upon receiving the message, he replied:

"You can go, but no short dresses. Keep a safe distance from boys. Text me when you want to leave, and I'll pick you up."

"Alright, thank you, Mr. Augustine."

The dinner was held in the lobby of a luxurious hotel. Pamela, elegantly dressed, had arrived early.