Chapter 272
Olive Hart lay on her bed. Olive and Mrs. Betty proceeded to the next bedroom, a spacious and luxurious room resembling the master suite. Its cool color scheme, primarily black, gray, and blue, created a calming atmosphere. "Mrs. Betty, did we go to the wrong room? This looks like Mr. Augustine's," Olive questioned suspiciously.
Betty Harris, startled, quickly smiled. "Lady, this is a guest room. The Red Villa is the young master's private property, so the rooms have a similar design—his preferred style."
"Oh," Olive replied, her doubts dispelled. Betty secretly breathed a sigh of relief, feeling her skills at deception improve with each interaction with the old lady. "By the way, Mrs. Betty, please call me Olive to avoid confusion."
"Certainly, Olive. Go to bed early. Call me if you need anything."
"You should rest too, Mrs. Betty," Olive responded.
After Mrs. Betty left, Olive showered. She intended to rise early to prepare breakfast for her grandmother. However, after her bath, she realized she lacked pajamas. Embarrassed, she considered using a towel, then noticed a man's white shirt on a hanger—clearly Elvis's. She reasoned that borrowing it for a night would go unnoticed. She would return it early and discreetly ask Betty for assistance.
Olive donned the shirt, dried her hair, and went to bed. She felt the silk blanket imbued with Elvis's scent, finding the clean, masculine fragrance comforting. Remembering their accidental encounter at the bar, she buried her face in the blanket, letting his scent envelop her. Her exposed eyes darkened, then slowly closed as she drifted off to sleep.
Elvis drove Crystal home. On the lawn of Robert's mansion, Crystal unbuckled her seatbelt, turning to Elvis. "Elvis, would you like to come in for a while? My father is abroad, my grandmother is at the temple, and no one is home."
Elvis's handsome features were accentuated by the streetlights, his calm demeanor appearing even more charming and noble. He glanced at Crystal with deep, narrow eyes, causing her heart to race and her face to flush. "I… I didn't mean that…" she stammered, aware her invitation could be misinterpreted.
"I won't go in. Go home," Elvis said quietly, firmly dismissing any ambiguity.
Crystal watched him light a cigarette, his nonchalant attitude a stark contrast to his usual business magnate persona. She found him intriguing, yet clearly his concern lay with his grandmother, their relationship far exceeding a typical grandchild bond. Crystal had hoped to use his grandmother to win his affection, but failed.
"Elvis, don't worry too much about Mrs. Samanta. I'll find a solution," Crystal promised.
Elvis softly replied, "Yeah," and said no more. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Crystal bid farewell and departed.
Elvis remained, finishing his cigarette. He felt a heavy weight of worry regarding his grandmother's declining health, fearing her eventual departure. He had tried various methods to help her, but the doctor attributed her condition to psychological factors. He dared not pressure her, instead offering silent late-night care.
After finishing his cigarette, Elvis drove back to the Red Villa. He checked on his grandmother, finding her asleep. Respecting her sleep, he covered her with a blanket, closed the door, and returned to his room. He showered and went to bed, but then his hand brushed against something soft under the silk blanket. His pupils dilated; he sat up and threw off the covers to reveal Olive Hart asleep in his shirt.
He stared at her curled form, noting the loose shirt revealing her figure. His throat tightened. He had numerous ways to relieve stress, but seeing her stirred a different kind of arousal. His gaze fell upon her face; her uncovered features stunned him with their exquisite beauty. Her sleeping posture, with his shirt slightly raised, revealed her slender legs. He felt his desire intensify.