Chapter 33: Olive Playing Cards
Olive raised her head and met Elvis’s narrow eyes. He sat at the main table, wearing a fine black shirt and trousers. When Harry shouted, Elvis held a cigarette, the smoke partially obscuring his handsome face, though Olive could see his heroic eyebrows furrow slightly. He exhaled slowly.
Olive, already embarrassed at being pushed into the situation, felt even more so now that she’d bumped into Elvis.
“Young Master Harry, where did this little beauty come from? Is she here for you?” the boss asked Harry. It was obvious they assumed Olive was there to accompany Elvis. Harry looked at Elvis, who had already withdrawn his gaze, discarding a card with a deep, indifferent expression. Pretending not to know each other?
Harry smiled calmly. He didn't mind the gossip, or watching their drama unfold. He greeted Olive, “Come serve us some wine.”
One of the bosses reached out and grabbed Olive’s slender arm. “Little beauty, why the mask? With a figure like that, your face can’t be bad. Take it off and let us see.” He reached for her mask.
Olive quickly avoided his hand, frowning. “There’s a mistake. I’m not here to accompany or serve anyone. Let me go!”
“Beauty, you realize who’s here? It doesn’t matter why you’re here; we don’t care!”
Olive remembered the manager’s warning: the room was filled with LA bigwigs, and she couldn’t afford to offend them. She didn’t want trouble, but she was unlucky to be thrust into this game.
“Let’s bet on whether this girl is ugly or an angel under that mask,” someone suggested.
“I bet she’s ugly. If she were stunning, she wouldn’t be wearing it. Beauty is a woman’s greatest weapon,” one man declared.
“I bet she’s breathtaking; her body is gorgeous,” another countered.
The men’s conversation centered on women and their bodies, a captive audience for Olive. Clad in a small velvet dress with a fringed skirt falling below her knees, her slender frame, even partially concealed, commanded attention in the luxurious room.
Olive glanced at Elvis, who sat smoking with his eyes closed, a beautiful woman beside him. Aloof and ruthless, he treated her like a stranger, offering no help.
Although she hoped to distance herself from him, Olive felt her heart ache. The boss again tried to remove her mask. “Beauty, the bets are set, let’s see your face.”
“Hold on,” Olive said quickly.
“What?” the boss halted.
“I’m not who you think I am. Let’s play a game. If I win, you let me go. If I lose, you decide.”
She suggested cards. Many women were present, thin, fat, of various races and shapes, but few possessed Olive’s coolness and cunning. Her proposal piqued their interest.
“You can’t escape. A game will be more interesting.” Olive sat at the poker table with Elvis beside her. He remained silent, smoking elegantly, yet dominating the scene.
Harry raised an eyebrow at Olive, reminding her kindly, “No one beats my brother at poker. Ask him for mercy.”
Olive refused to beg. Elvis, though outwardly emotionless, exuded cold anger, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray. “Mr. Augustine, let’s begin.”
Olive played her cards calmly. After her second card, Harry angrily threw his cards down, looking at Elvis. “Bro, this girl’s fire! I’m out. Avenge me!”
Olive had eliminated two players. The room’s occupants watched curiously. “Beauty, I didn’t know you were so skilled. Now it’s you and President Augustine, but he’s never lost unless he chooses to.”
Olive looked at Elvis. She was only moderately skilled, having learned from watching North play. She could win only if Elvis let her, but she wouldn’t beg. She’d play to the end.
Elvis narrowed his eyes, aware of her stubborn refusal to plead. He played relentlessly.
Harry watched closely, then stood. “Bro! You won! All hail the king!”
Olive’s lashes trembled. She had lost. “Beauty, you had your chance and lost. Ten million dollars.”
Ten million? Olive hadn’t known the stakes. The sum could change her life, saddling her with a crippling debt.
“Don’t panic, find someone to help. But first, we want to see you without the mask.” The boss reached for her mask.