Chapter 115: Pamela had returned.

Gwen jerked, startled, and fell to the ground. Raven's violent reaction nearly killed her.

"Rave, it's me," Gwen whispered, cautiously peering at him.

Raven rose from the bed and stood over her. He knew Gwen couldn't compare to North; he should have noticed her presence when he hugged her. But he was consumed by lust and the fact that he'd given her the room key. He hadn't expected anyone but North.

The thought of hugging a stranger made Raven want to scrub himself raw. He stared at Gwen as if poisoned. Her initial confidence crumbled; seeing his revulsion, her self-esteem plummeted. She was terrified. Her charm had vanished, replaced by fear. She had to speak, or he might hurt her.

"Rave, North gave me your key."

Raven had suspected as much, but her confirmation made his chest pound. He kicked a chair. How dare she!

Gwen shivered in terror. "Rave, it's true. North also said you liked slutty women, that I should try to please you tonight."

Years of self-control, honed in a harsh upbringing, were his greatest pride. Without it, he would have gone mad. Yet, around North, that self-control vanished.

Raven stormed to the counter, sweeping red wine onto the floor, smashing everything in sight. The commotion attracted attention. Harry burst in, kicking open the door.

"Brother, what the hell happened? What are you doing? Fuck, Gwen, why are you here?"

Gwen had never seen Raven's beastly side. Seeing Harry, she saw a savior.

"Bro, save me!" she cried.

Harry didn't question his sister's presence. "Rave, I'm so sorry she bothered you. I promise this won't happen again."

The room was a mess. Raven's handsome features, harsh in the dim light, narrowed as he spat out a single word: "Get out!"

"Gwen, let's go!" Harry grabbed her and fled.

Raven entered the bathroom, turned on the shower, and, still showering, placed his phone to his ear. "Where's North?"

His private secretary answered respectfully, "Young master, North just left Kissland bar." Raven paused, then said casually, "Suspend North's schedule. Let me know once you've informed her."

Olive walked the hallway, reminiscing about Elvis's request that she call him "husband." Her face flushed with embarrassment. Elvis approached. Why was he here?

Olive turned and quickened her pace, but he caught her. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

"What are you running from?" he murmured.

Olive snorted. "I have no business with you. Hasn't Pamela returned with your cigarettes yet?"

Elvis chuckled, his face alight with amusement. "This was your idea, wasn't it? I sent her for cigarettes so she'd be gone for a while."

Olive turned, her face close to his, sniffing him like a dog.

Elvis opened their room door and carried her inside. "What are you sniffing?" he asked.

"Making sure there's no female scent. Pamela was practically all over you," Olive pouted.

Elvis was delighted. "I have a tigress at home. I wouldn't dare."

"I'll trust you—for now. Mr. Augustine, I'll go. Pamela will be back soon." Olive pushed him, attempting to leave.

But Elvis held her. "I won't let you go, Mrs. Augustine. Call me your husband."

"No!" Olive muttered, smiling.

"Really?" Elvis gently pinched her waist.

"It tickles! Mr. Augustine, let me go!" Olive laughed, struggling. "Are you shy? No one will laugh. Call me your husband."

"No," Olive laughed, still struggling.

Pamela's anxious voice called from outside. "Mr. Augustine?"

Pamela had returned! Olive, summoning her strength, pushed Elvis away. He pressed his body against hers, kissing her passionately.

"Stop, Elvis. Pamela's outside!" Olive pushed him away, refusing the kiss.

Elvis released her and called out audibly, "I'm here."

Pamela hurried to the door. "Mr. Augustine, are you here?"

Olive's eyes widened. It was a single room with an antique screen. They were hidden, but Olive was still terrified.

"Mr. Augustine, Pamela's here," she whispered.

Elvis looked at her, then said, "I think Pamela has her eye on me. She's coveting…"