The Substitute Bride: Doted by My Billionaire Husband by Sumpto Midway

Chapter 16: Is That What You Want?

Olive looked at the tall man standing in the doorway. Her eyes quickly dropped to his expensive leather belt. Realizing North had misled her, she blinked, trying to control her thoughts. Lifting her eyes, she said, "Mr. Augustine, why are you standing there?"

"I think I saw a little pussycat meowing in here," Elvis muttered, his gaze fixed on her. "And the cat was meowing I wanna have sex."

Olive spun around, throwing the towel she held at him. It hit his face and fell to the floor.

Elvis chuckled. Olive reached for the door, but he was leaning against it, his knee bent. "Are you angry?"

Olive snorted and ignored him.

"I'm going on a business trip for a few days."

Olive lifted her eyes. "Is he really traveling?" she asked, her tone calmer.

"I'll be leaving soon."

"So fast? Then you need to get some rest."

"Is that all you have to say?" Elvis asked, his brows furrowed.

Olive pondered. She nodded. "Yes, that's all."

Elvis took her wrist and gently pulled her into his embrace. Olive quickly disengaged. "What are you doing?"

Before she could finish, he took her hand and placed it on his waist. Her soft palm touched his strong muscles through the thin fabric. She tried to pull away, but Elvis held her. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his deep voice close to her ear.

Olive, embarrassed by his reaction to her earlier words, said, "Mr. Augustine, we were just kidding. Let me go!"

A knock came on the door. Henry's voice said respectfully from outside, "Young Master, your private jet is ready. It's time to leave."

Elvis released her hand. "Don't stare like that next time. If you have any problems you can't solve, just call me."

With that, Elvis left.

Olive showered and went to bed. She texted North, changing the subject of their conversation.

North finally replied, "Don't worry. Although I have to continue shooting abroad for a while, I've already had someone dig up Monica's old juicy history. It'll take some time; she's not stupid. Later, I'll come back and we'll tear that bitch Pamela up together!"

Olive said goodnight and tried to sleep, but she kept seeing flashes of Elvis pulling her into his arms. She thought about his "Don't stare" comment, but then remembered his offer to call if she needed help. Feeling at peace, she finally drifted off.

The ringing of her phone woke her. She grabbed it from her pillow.

"Hello," she yawned.

"Hello, Olive, it's me. Sorry to disturb your rest," Monica said, her voice laced with resentment. Olive ignored it, asking innocently, "Ma, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Olive, it's Gabriella's birthday today. We're having a party, and we're inviting you, if you're free tonight."

"Oh, sure. Just send me the address. I'll attend if I'm not too busy," Olive replied, unwilling to appear down on herself.

"Great! The party's at the Royal Star Hotel."

"Royal Star Hotel?"

"Yes, Olive, the Royal Star Hotel. It's the best in Los Angeles. Only celebrities and prominent people can afford it. You just returned from the orphanage; I'm certain you've never heard of it."

Olive smiled; she knew Monica was bragging. She had seen the hotel upon her return to Los Angeles—a stunning building in the most beautiful part of the city.

Olive wondered how much Patrick had spent on the birthday party.

"I'll take this chance to check out the Royal Star Hotel. I'll see you tonight," Olive said, hanging up.

That evening, after staying in her room all day, Olive went to the storage room. Old Mrs. Samantha had told her it contained clothing.

Opening the door, Olive was stunned. The racks were filled with designer dresses, shoes, and bags.

This was every woman's dream. Olive's face lit up with joy. She wondered if Elvis had prepared the room.

She quickly chose a beautiful red dress, silver heels, and a silver bag. She changed and headed for the Royal Star Hotel.