Chapter 7: Feeding You, My Mrs. Augustine
His gaze lingered on her lips, hinting at something. He implied the best way to thank a man was with a kiss.
Olive's heart skipped a beat. Her earlobes flushed crimson. "I don't understand," she murmured, turning to the scenery outside the window to avoid his gaze.
Elvis saw her evasion. He knew she possessed a smart, agile, and independent personality. The car stopped at a traffic light. Olive spotted Los Angeles's most famous cake shop.
"Want some cake?" Elvis's low voice murmured in her ear.
Her eyes softened. "My mother used to bring me here," she said quietly.
Elvis turned the car and pulled over. "If you want some, let's go."
The cake shop was a major Los Angeles brand, particularly popular among celebrities, selling limited quantities daily. Olive had loved cakes since childhood; her mother frequently bought them here, creating cherished memories.
Ten years had passed since her last visit. Her eyes itched, tears welling. To avoid Elvis seeing her cry, she excused herself to the restroom.
Elvis watched her go, noticing her tears. He saw her tender heart. He opened the car door and entered the cake shop, where he coincidentally encountered Gabriella and her best friend, Pearl Wright.
Pearl tugged Gabriella. "Gabriella, you said your half-sister, Olive, has a young gigolo. Is that true?"
Gabriella scoffed. "Of course. I saw her dropped off by a man."
"Gigolos are expensive," Pearl questioned doubtfully. "Olive just returned from the orphanage. Where did she get the money?"
"It depends," Gabriella explained. "Handsome, good-looking gigolos can earn a thousand dollars, but others cost less."
"I need a cake," a deep, charismatic voice announced.
Gabriella and Pearl turned to see Elvis standing at the counter, tall and alluring, incredibly handsome.
Pearl whispered, captivated, "Gabriella, isn't he lovely?"
Gabriella had never seen such a handsome man. She believed the best combination in a man was power and wealth, but Elvis's elegance was striking. Her heart raced. Pearl whispered again, "Do you think Olive's gigolo is as handsome as this man?"
"Nonsense!" Gabriella glared. "For a poor girl like Olive, her gigolo must be fat and ugly. If she could afford this man, I'd call her boss!" Gabriella couldn't believe Olive's gigolo could compare.
"I'm sorry, sir," the store manager apologized to Elvis. "The last cake was just purchased. We're sold out for today."
Gabriella, having bought the last cake, stepped forward ecstatically. "Sir, do you want a cake? You can have mine if you follow me on social media!" She'd fallen for Elvis and acted impulsively. She was a high-profile young woman, pursued by many, yet she abandoned her pride for him.
Elvis ignored her, producing a black and gold card. "Then ask the chef to work overtime and make me one."
The manager saw the name 'Augustine' boldly printed—a well-known surname in Los Angeles. He instantly recognized Elvis's identity, sweating profusely at the powerful man's unexpected presence.
"Sir, one moment. I'll ask the chef to make a custom cake," he said, retrieving the card and rushing to the kitchen.
Gabriella and Pearl were confused. Why was the manager making a custom cake?
Elvis picked up a newspaper, completely ignoring Gabriella. Embarrassed, her cheeks flushed. She adjusted her skirt, revealing her thighs.
"Oh, I'm dizzy," Gabriella pretended, falling toward Elvis. She closed her eyes, expecting his embrace. But he'd subtly moved, and she fell to the ground with a thud.
"Gabriella, must you greet me like this?" a soft voice murmured.
Gabriella looked up to see Olive, her bright eyes fixed on her, a playful wink accompanying her words. Gabriella felt nauseous, scrambling to her feet. "Olive, why are you here?" She couldn't believe it; she'd thought her mother had drugged her pizza.
Just then, Elvis stepped forward, his arm around Olive's waist. "What took you so long?"
Gabriella and Pearl gasped.
"Olive, who is he?" Gabriella demanded.
Olive smiled. "Didn't you say he was my gigolo?"