Chapter 16: Is That What You Want?

Olive looked at him. The tall man stood against the door. Her eyes quickly dropped to his expensive leather belt. Realizing she'd been distracted by North, she blinked, trying to regain control. She lifted her gaze and said, "Mr. Augustine, why are you standing there?"

"I think I saw a little pussycat meowing in here," Elvis muttered, his gaze unwavering. "And the cat was meowing, 'I wanna have sex.'"

At those words, Olive whirled around and threw the towel she held at him. It hit his face and fell to the floor.

Elvis chuckled. Olive reached for the door, but his knees were bent, and he leaned against it. "Are you angry?"

Olive snorted, ignoring him.

"I'm going on a business trip for a few days."

Olive lifted her eyes. "Is he really traveling?" she asked, then, more calmly, "When are you leaving?"

"Soon."

"So fast? Then you need some rest."

"Is that all you have to say?" Elvis asked, his brows furrowed.

Olive pondered. She nodded. "Yes, that's all."

Elvis gently took her wrist and pulled her into an embrace. Olive quickly disengaged. "What are you doing?"

Before she could finish, he took her hand and placed it on his waist. Her soft palm felt his strong muscles through the thin fabric. She tried to pull away, but Elvis held her fast. "Is this what you want?" his deep voice rumbled in her ear.

Olive knew he was reacting to what he'd heard, and she felt embarrassed. "Mr. Augustine, we were just kidding. Let me go!"

A knock came on the door. Henry's voice called from outside, "Young Master, your private jet is ready. It's time to leave."

Elvis released her hand. "Don't stare like that next time. If you have any problems you can't solve, just call me."

With that, he left.

Olive showered and went to bed. She changed the subject of her conversation with North. He eventually texted, "Don't worry, though I have to continue shooting abroad for a while. I've already had someone dig up Monica's juicy history. It'll take some time, as she's not stupid, but I'll be back, and we'll tear that bitch Pamela apart!"

Olive said goodnight and tried to sleep, but she couldn't. When she closed her eyes, she saw Elvis pulling her into his arms, her hand on his waist. She thought about his "Don't stare" comment, then dismissed it, remembering his final words: "If you have any problem you can't solve, just give me a call."

Olive closed her eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

She awoke to her phone ringing. She grabbed it from the pillow. "Hello," she yawned.

"Hello, Olive, it's me. Sorry to disturb you," Monica's voice, laced with resentment, came through the speaker. Olive ignored it, asking innocently, "Ma, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Olive, it's Gabriella's birthday today. We're having a party, and we're inviting you, if you're free."

"Oh, sure. Just send me the address. I'll come if I'm not too busy," Olive replied, unwilling to appear inferior.

"Great! It's at the Royal Star Hotel."

"Royal Star Hotel?"

"Yes, Olive, the Royal Star Hotel. It's the best in Los Angeles. Only celebrities and prominent people go there. Knowing you just got back from the orphanage, I'm sure you've never heard of it."

Olive smiled. She knew Monica was just bragging. Olive had seen the hotel when she returned to Los Angeles. It was in the most beautiful part of LA, extravagant and stunning. She wondered how much Patrick had spent on Gabriella's birthday party.

"I'll take this chance to check out the Royal Star Hotel. See you tonight." Olive hung up and closed her eyes.

That evening, after spending the day in her room, Olive sluggishly got out of bed and went to the storage room. Old Mrs. Samantha had told her it contained clothing.

Olive opened the door and gasped. The racks overflowed with designer dresses, shoes, and bags. This was every woman's dream.

Olive's face lit up with joy. She wondered if Elvis had stocked the room. She quickly grabbed a beautiful red dress, silver heels, and a silver bag. She changed and headed for the Royal Star Hotel.