Chapter 451
Elvis said, "Olive, I love you." Her "little wolf" is truly clever. Olive wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his handsome face. At that moment, Elvis produced and placed something around Olive's neck. She saw it was the One Love diamond necklace he had given her in Los Angeles, with the One Love ring still attached. She had erased his memories that day, removing the necklace and returning it. Unexpectedly, it had found its way back to her.
After fastening the necklace, Elvis's thin lips pressed against her forehead in a tender kiss. He said, "Olive, these belonged to my mother. No matter what happens, I won't let you remove them." Olive's heart softened. She knew Elvis deeply loved his mother, and only with her could he shed his defenses and reveal his vulnerability. This necklace and ring were the most precious gift she'd ever received.
"Okay, I promise. No matter what, I'll wear them," she replied. Elvis kissed her eyes, then produced paper and pen. "Olive," he asked, "what décor and style do you prefer?"
They lay on the large bed, Olive beneath him, half of his handsome body resting on hers. He sketched, saying, "This is our bedroom. Next to your closet, a small office for you, alright?"
Olive questioned, "Mr. Augustine, won't we live here in the future?"
"Yes, but Grandma and Betty are a little inconvenient here. We'll move, visiting Grandma often. I'll find a villa, design and decorate it—our love nest."
Olive's heart swelled with sweetness. While she cherished living with Grandma and Betty, this would be their home, their world, undisturbed.
"Then why is my study in the room? Yours is next door?" Olive asked, pursing her lips.
Elvis stroked her head. "Because I want to see you when I come home. I want you to be everywhere I look." Olive laughed. Her "little wolf" was quite possessive. "Okay," she conceded.
"Should the baby's room be in our bedroom or next to it? I think next to it, to avoid disrupting our married life."
"Mr. Augustine," Olive said, lowering her lashes, "with my current condition, conception is impossible."
Elvis knew her limitations; pregnancy would be dangerous. Even if she wished it, he wouldn't allow it. "I mean, when you recover," he said, kissing her ear, "we'll have a baby."
Olive loved children; having two with Mr. Augustine had been a lifelong dream. She picked up the pen, sketching a nursery: "No, the children's room will be in our bedroom. A small cradle with a little bell..."
In the dim light, the woman he loved most spoke of their future. Elvis felt profound contentment, wishing time would slow, that tomorrow would never come. He didn't know this was their last tender moment.
He looked into her serious eyes. Fresh from her bath, her delicate skin glowed. How could he let her age? His kiss fell on her neck, his hand reaching inside her shirt.
Olive stopped writing, noticing something amiss. His watch was visible; his hand was already inside her shirt. "Mr. Augustine, what are you doing?" She tried to push him away.
He took her hand, placing it on his belt. "Olive," he rasped, "help me."
"No... You haven't showered..."
"I showered at work."
"...That's... impossible. Buy one. A condom." Olive rested her hands on his chest, refusing.
His dark eyes held a molten intensity. "Put your hand in my pocket."
Olive obeyed, touching something—a condom. Then another, and another... seven, eight in total. How many had he bought? The elegant suit concealed a pocket full of condoms. Olive's face flushed crimson. She punched him playfully. He didn't flinch, kissing her lips. "Olive, did I tell you?"
"What?"
"I love you."
"Olive, I love you!"
Later that night, Olive slept soundly, exhausted from their passionate encounters. Elvis, having showered, stood on the balcony in black silk pajamas. He called Crystal.
"Crystal, I'll marry you. Let's get married."
He hung up before she could respond. A knock came. Mrs. Samantha entered. "Elvis, have you decided?"
Elvis nodded. "Yes."