Chapter 45: Israel's Servant

Olive was stunned. She had been prepared to confront him and leave. But he had just denied any involvement with Rita, and even claimed he liked Olive. His confession caught her off guard; she blinked repeatedly.

“Are you telling the truth?”

Elvis pursed his lips, then spoke in a low, magnetic voice, imbued with a certain power.

“It’s true. If you don’t believe me, I’ll go to the hospital to prove my virginity.”

Olive immediately kicked him.

“Liar! A man can’t have a virginity test.”

Elvis cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. “Olive, be nice to me, okay?”

Olive had always tried to protect her heart, to avoid being hurt. But she was already in love with him. She couldn't deny her feelings. His absence caused her pain; his hurt, her own; and the thought of him with other women made her jealous and frantic. It was a strange, new feeling.

She allowed him to kiss her, then broke away. “I’m very fierce. If you have other women, I’ll hit them. So think carefully.”

Elvis’s eyes shone with joy. He said dotingly, “Have I ever told you that you’re most charming when you’re angry?”

Olive blushed and pushed him away, returning to her room. Rita hadn't left; feeling defeated, she was determined to get rid of Olive.

Elvis left the study. Rita rushed to him, sobbing pitifully. “Elvis, that maid hit me! Look at me! Do something!” She moved closer, trying to cling to him.

Elvis calmly avoided her. The scent of her perfume disgusted him; he already missed Olive’s sweet fragrance, the warmth of her arms.

“Rita, from tomorrow on, you don’t come to the company again. Leave LA and never let me see you.”

“What?” Rita was shocked, staring at him in disbelief. “Elvis, what’s wrong? What did I do?”

Elvis stared at her one last time and muttered, “Your biggest mistake was seducing me in front of Mrs. Augustine.”

Mrs. Augustine? The maid?

Rita’s face went pale.

In the bedroom, Olive emerged from the shower. Elvis, already showered, was leaning against the bed in dark blue silk pajamas, reading. Usually, they slept separately—she in the bed, he on the sofa. But tonight, he was in the bed.

Despite confessing her feelings, her heart pounded. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. He patted the bed. “Come here.”

Olive hesitated. He put down his book and stood. “Do you want a hug?”

She climbed into bed, turning her back to him, trying to avoid contact. Elvis possessively pulled her into his arms. Her head rested on his arm, her face close to his chest. She wanted to pull away, but he spoke softly.

“Why don’t we watch a movie?”

Olive nodded, motionless. Her phone rang—Derrick. She ignored it. Another message arrived, also from Derrick, but she still didn't read it.

Elvis took her phone. The dim light illuminated his handsome face. He started to answer it.

“Don’t!” Olive stopped him.

He looked at her. “What? Are you afraid I’ll deal with him?”

“No, it’s my business. We talked about this; you shouldn’t interfere.”

“Oh,” he muttered, tossing the phone onto the bed.

Olive knew he was angry. He was naturally domineering and didn't like other men coveting his woman. She kissed his face. He bit her lip. She winced. He released her lip, their breaths mingling. His fingers traced her face and hair.

“Mine. You’re mine. Understood?”

“Understood. But I’ll handle Derrick and the Hart family. I’m with you, but I don’t want to depend on you. I want to be independent, the same woman you admired.”

He looked at her bright eyes, her persistence, her stubborn pride. He slowly removed her mask. Her beautiful face, even more seductive and charming in his arms, was revealed. He admitted to being captivated by her beauty and longed for her. He kissed her again. Olive clung to his pajamas. Her body softened completely. She hugged his waist. He suddenly stopped, staring into her eyes.