Chapter 193: Mrs. Augustine, why are you so red?

Elvis pulled Olive into his embrace. The pain in his wounds was sharp, but he held her close, tightening his arms and pressing her against his chest. He kissed her face.

"Stop crying, Olive," he coaxed, his voice hoarse.

Olive, a doctor accustomed to sickness, nearly fainted when she heard about his car accident. Else's fierce independence meant he rarely revealed his pain; this admission spoke volumes of its severity.

The thought of what might have happened to him made her tremble. She tugged at his hospital gown, tears in her eyes. "You're still injured! Let me go, or the wounds will worsen."

Elvis kissed her eyes. "Let me hold you a while. I don't feel any pain."

"Mr. Augustine, don't think I'll forgive you just because you're sick! I've always warned you to drive carefully, but you're so stubborn!" Olive scolded, sniffing. "And explain why you were on the street when you said you were working in the office!"

Elvis didn't want to reveal that he'd been watching her and Marvin together the previous night, sitting in his car, consumed by jealousy.

"Mrs. Augustine, please, I'm sick. Let me rest," he murmured, burying his face in her hair and closing his eyes.

Olive wrapped her arms around his neck. "What if something bad had happened? What would Grandma do?" Her words pierced him. He hugged her and solemnly nodded. "I promise, no matter what, I'll never drive fast again."

Olive stayed at the hospital for a day, unable to bring herself to call the Red Villa and tell Mrs. Samantha about the accident. She took leave from the institute to care for him. Elvis was too injured to bathe, so Olive used warm water and a towel to clean him, carefully avoiding his bandages. After cleaning his body, she began emptying the water from the bucket.

"Mrs. Augustine," Elvis called, making her stop. "Aren't you forgetting somewhere?"

"No, I've cleaned everywhere," Olive shook her head.

Leaning lazily on the bed, his elegance undiminished by the blue hospital gown, he pointed at his pants. "There. Help me wipe there, too."

Olive's eyes widened. "I don't want to! Wipe it yourself. Your hand isn't wounded."

He frowned and pleaded, "I really don't have the strength."

She suspected he was being deliberate. "Mr. Augustine, how can you refuse? It's hygiene! I'm obsessed with cleanliness!"

Olive looked at his pitiful face. "I'll call a male nurse."

"Female," Elvis interrupted.

He wanted a female nurse to clean that?

Olive threw the towel at his face. He caught it, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "You can call a female nurse, or you can do it. Choose quickly."

"You scum," she muttered, finally giving in. "Okay, I'll wipe it for you!"

Dipping the towel in disinfected water, she sat on the edge of the bed, closing her eyes and bracing herself. Her face flushed; she'd never done this for a man before.

Seeing her hesitation, Elvis clasped her wrist. "Mrs. Augustine, you're just cleaning me. Why is your face so red? What impure things are you thinking about?"

"I wasn't thinking about anything!"

"Then quickly wipe it, girl," he chuckled.

"This is a hospital, Elvis! Let go of my hand!"

He covered her mouth with his other hand. A knock sounded.

Chapter 153: Mrs. Augustine, why are you so red?

"The doctor's here," the doctor announced.

Olive quickly pulled away, pushing Elvis back. He covered his eyes, whispering, "Pull up my pants."

Olive, afraid of being caught, quickly helped him. "It's still a little exposed. I can't look like this for the doctor."

Smiling and shaking her head, Olive pulled up the quilt to cover him. "I'll ignore you from now on. Bye!" she laughed, leaving the room for the doctor.