Chapter 428

He called her Mrs. Augustine. Olive looked up at the man before her. Elvis, fresh from a shower, wore dark blue silk pajamas. His short hair, wet and towel-less, dripped with water. The refreshing mist seemed to wash away his usual indifference, revealing a youthful handsomeness that brought a blush to her cheeks. Olive, already angry, found her anger softened by his appealing appearance. Her voice unconsciously grew gentler. “Elvis, what’s wrong? Why did you ask Betty to call me? Grandma and Betty know I'm often away, but how will I see them now?”

Elvis stared at her pretty face. “Why are you so fierce? Why didn’t you come up when I asked? Besides, Grandma and Betty are experienced; what we do is perfectly normal.”

“Shameless man!” Olive clenched her fist and punched his shoulder. He gasped. Seeing her anger and shyness, he feigned pain, pressing his right arm. Olive, immediately deceived, forgot her anger, hurrying to examine his arm. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? I barely touched you…”

“Here,” Elvis said, producing a large red apple. Olive stared, surprised. “Did you call me just to give me an apple?”

“Don’t you want an apple on Christmas Eve? This is for you.”

Olive took the apple. “Thank you.”

“Take a bite; see if it’s sweet,” he whispered. His chest was now pressed against the door, close to hers. His height blocked her light. Their bodies touched. He gazed at her intently, wanting her to eat the apple.

Olive took a bite. “Is it sweet?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’ll give you a bite.” She offered the apple to his lips. He didn’t eat it. Instead, his long fingers threaded through her hair, cupping her cheeks before he kissed her. Her lips were fragrant and sweet, tasting of apple juice. Startled, she froze as he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her. The apple slipped from her grasp, falling with a “pop.”

“My apple!”

Elvis tightened his grip on her, his hoarse voice close to her ear. “Forget the apple. Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Olive shivered. “Elvis, you didn’t just call me up for an apple. I thought you were being nice…”

He hissed, interrupting. “Hurry, my arm hurts.”

Unable to resist his excuse, she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. The position felt…intimate. Olive looked up, meeting Elvis’s dark eyes, burning with passion. He seemed unusually excited, almost stimulated.

“Elvis, what’s wrong with you?”

He slowly raised his right hand, extending his index finger. He waited silently for her reaction. Olive looked at his finger, then gently took it in her palm.

Two faint red flames flickered in Elvis’s eyes. His muscles tensed, his heart tumultuous. His thin lips moved, his hoarse voice barely audible: “Mrs. Augustine.”

After all this time, she heard him say it again. “Mrs. Augustine!” Her pupils dilated. “Elvis, you…”

He didn’t want to frighten her, not with his incomplete memory. He pursed his lips. “You’re my little bride, aren’t you, Olive?”

Twenty years ago, a newborn baby girl had clutched his finger, smiling sweetly at him. It was her. Twenty years later, she had entered the Red Villa, becoming his Mrs. Augustine. The image of that baby's face overlapped with the pretty face before him. Olive had thought he'd regained his memory, but now she realized he was speaking of his childhood. She didn't remember clearly, but he still did.

“Olive,” he murmured, kissing her forehead gently. His body pressed against hers, his aching heart yearning to connect with hers. “You’re mine. You were born to be mine. You fill my world, you know that?”

He took her hand, placing it on his heart. She felt his strong, life-filled heartbeat through the fabric. Her palm tingled. She felt the iron-hard muscles beneath her touch. He said she filled his heart, and at that moment, his heart pounded fiercely for her.

Olive’s body softened. The man she loved was before her. No girl could resist being held like this, hearing such sweet words. She bit her lip, hugged his neck, and then kissed him.

Elvis put his hands on her shoulders and suddenly pushed her against the door. Olive looked at him, bewildered. “What’s wrong?”

He produced something and covered her face. Her heart skipped a beat. It was a veil. He…

He didn’t give her time to think. The next second, he kissed her hard, through the veil. She didn't understand his agitation. His kiss was a storm. Her breath was stolen, leaving her feeling like a boat tossed on a wild sea, clinging to him for dear life.