Chapter 43: She Stays Here Tonight

“Hey, maid, come over here,” Elvis commanded.

“Why? What are you doing?” Olive stood up and walked over. Elvis reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling it gently. Olive fell onto his sturdy thigh.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Olive hastily stood up.

“You’re angry? Didn’t you just refer to yourself as a maid?”

Olive’s eyes glared at him.

“I said I’m a maid, not your plaything!”

Elvis smirked. “This is the first time I’ve seen a maid without a uniform. I’m afraid you understand perfectly well what a plaything is.”

Olive hadn’t expected him to say that. He appeared serious, but she hadn’t expected him to be so lustful. Elvis, though single, was a mature man.

He handed her a candy and said, “Little maid, peel this; I want to eat it.”

“I thought you said you don’t eat sugary food,” Olive retorted.

“Well, today’s an exception,” Elvis said, fixing his gaze on her face as he waited.

Olive forcefully peeled the candy and said, “There you go,” stuffing the small, multicolored candy into his mouth.

Elvis licked the candy slowly, a smile on his face. He squinted his narrow eyes and asked in a low voice, “Little maid, do you have any ultimate goal?”

“Ultimate goal?” Olive asked, confused.

“Yes, isn’t the ultimate goal of a maid to lay on her master’s bed?”

Olive’s eyes widened. Unexpectedly, he was acting like a hooligan again. Elvis grabbed her hand, wrapping it in his palm. He laughed softly.

Footsteps approached. Rita was returning from her tour of the villa. Olive quickly pushed Elvis’s hand away and stood straight.

Rita walked in. She looked at Elvis charmingly and admiringly. “Elvis, the Red Villa is so beautiful.”

Elvis stood up coldly. He said indifferently, without glancing at Rita, “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”

In the dining room, Elvis and Rita sat opposite each other at the table. Olive didn’t join them; she went to the kitchen to assist.

Olive walked into the dining room with a bowl of baked chicken. She heard Rita say, “Elvis, I suddenly remembered there’s a document that needs your signature. It’s too late already; can I at least spend the night here?”

Elvis glanced at Olive and nodded. “Okay, you can spend the night here.”

Olive suddenly imagined what might happen between Elvis and Rita during their “work session.” Rita might go naked and try to seduce him. Olive stared at Elvis angrily, wondering why he would consent to such a thing.

Still lost in her imagination, she felt her finger burning. She hastily removed her hand from the steel chicken pot. Seeing her now-bruised finger, she frowned.

Elvis pulled her scalded finger and caressed it soothingly. “Why be so careless? Does it hurt?” He brought her finger to his mouth and kissed it. Olive’s eyelashes fluttered; she swiftly pulled her finger away.

“I’ll go upstairs and deal with it,” Olive said, turning and going upstairs.

Rita watched the scene in shock. Elvis was actually concerned about a maid’s injured finger? Rita was certain there was intimacy between the two.

In the bedroom, Olive stood in front of the washstand in the bathroom, cold water rushing over her scalded finger. The scald wasn't serious, and the pain was gone. However, she reminisced about how Elvis had kissed her finger. It had felt soft and slightly cool, instantly relieving her pain.

Olive turned off the tap. She didn’t understand his behavior. Since he’d brought Rita home, why was he still flirting with her? Olive wasn’t stupid. While Rita would be spending the night, who would keep Rita company?

Olive stayed in her room. Soon, a knock came on the door. Olive quickly opened it; it wasn’t Elvis, but Rita.