Chapter 281

"Shut up. Give me some peace, okay?"

The company's senior executives watched respectfully as Elvis departed. Seeing Olive dash toward his luxury car, they shouted, "Miss, stop!" They considered her behavior outrageous, but they couldn't restrain her. She reached the car, her bright eyes fixed on the window. The tinted glass prevented her from seeing inside. She tapped on the window. "President Augustine, could I have a few minutes? I need to tell you something."

Peterson, the driver, glanced at Elvis through the rearview mirror. Upon seeing the girl, Elvis looked over. Peterson felt a surge of excitement, wanting to tell Ray, "Hey, Ray, something's happening!"

Elvis watched as the girl moved from the window to the front of the car. She had stopped his car! Wasn't she with basketball captain Jimmy?

A senior executive approached, intending to gently remove Olive. "Miss, please leave. Our President isn't someone you can just meet. Please make an appointment." But as he reached for her arm, he felt Elvis's icy gaze, a silent warning. His hand froze.

The rear window slowly descended, revealing Elvis's handsome face. His gaze swept over the executive's hand, then he said quietly, "Back off." The executive's sweat instantly beaded. Elvis turned to Olive. "Aren't you watching the basketball game? Why are you here?"

"President Augustine, I need your help," Olive said.

Elvis's elegant legs were crossed, a slight smile playing on his lips. He seemed amused. "Tell me."

"Captain Jimmy of Watson was injured during a break. I need to check the security cameras to find the culprit. Mr. Augustine, could you please let me access the cameras?"

Elvis's good humor vanished. His eyes narrowed. "Is this only about Jimmy?"

"Captain Jimmy was seriously injured—a broken arm—and can't play the second half. I need..." Elvis cut her off. He had assumed she needed his help, but it was for that boy! "Go!" he spat.

Peterson, startled by the command, accelerated. Was he supposed to leave?

"President Augustine! Elvis Augustine!" Olive called, running after the car before twisting her ankle and falling. This was the second time she'd fallen while chasing his car. Her eyes fluttered, her vision blurring. Suddenly, brakes screeched. She looked up to see the Rolls Royce stop. She thought he was gone, but he'd stopped! A delighted smile spread across her face. She struggled to her feet and approached the car.

Elvis, seeing her in the rearview mirror, felt his heart tighten. He ordered Peterson to stop. Peterson slammed on the brakes, then heard Elvis's irritated voice: "Why are you driving so fast? Trying to launch a rocket?" Peterson knew he'd be complaining to Ray later. Elvis had felt sorry for the girl and taken it out on him!

Olive approached. Elvis opened the back door, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her inside. "Ah!" she gasped, falling onto his lap. His arms encircled her waist, pulling her close. It was his usual domineering style.

Still slightly dazed, Olive noticed the dust on her palms. Elvis frowned, producing a handkerchief. "Wipe your hands. They're dirty. Don't touch me."

Olive cleaned her hands. She knew he was a neat freak.

"President Augustine," she said, feeling uneasy, "This isn't comfortable. I should get down." She was still on his lap.

Elvis felt her stiffen. He tightened his grip on her waist. "Shut up. Give me some peace, okay?"

Olive winced at his grip. "Then let me go…"

"Are you embarrassed?" His voice was husky. Olive, experienced in matters of the heart, understood his implication. Her cheeks flushed slightly. "I'm not twisting…"

"You weren't twisting? Wasn't that your dance move on stage?"

Olive hadn’t done it to attract him, but it was indeed a move where she moved her hips. His words, mature and suggestive, were undeniably erotic. Olive grabbed a corner of his vest. "Someone’s in front. Can we… be more civilized?"

Peterson discreetly signaled he knew nothing. The man who'd just mentioned her dance move certainly wasn't his usually reserved young master.

Elvis raised the partition. Olive returned to the subject. "Mr. Augustine, would you have helped me if you hadn't stopped?"