Chapter 531: He’s Drunk

The cold wind whipped in, followed by Elvis, tall and handsome. He was back. Aunty Layla quickly accepted the bag from his hand, saying, "Master, you're back. Would you like something warm?"

Elvis wore a handmade black suit; handsome, refined, and distinguished. He changed his shoes at the door, then strode into the living room, his dark eyes immediately settling on the scene unfolding on the woolen carpet: mother and child. "No need," he said, "I ate out." He'd already informed Aunty Layla.

Seeing her master studying Olive, Aunty Layla hastily explained, "Sir, this is the little master's teacher, Miss Hart, as I mentioned on the phone. She's playing with the little master." Unaware of Elvis and Olive's relationship, Aunty Layla knew only that they were young and of the opposite sex. A father and a young, attractive teacher presented a potentially delicate situation. To avoid misunderstanding, she felt an introduction necessary.

Little Nathan looked up from his comic book, silently calling out, "Dad." Elvis hummed in response, seating himself on the sofa. Aunty Layla, detecting the scent of alcohol, asked, "Master, did you drink tonight? I'll make you some soup." She went into the kitchen.

Nathan returned to his comic book, while Elvis remained on the sofa, his gaze lingering on Olive's slender form. She hadn't looked at him since his arrival. He removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and reclined lazily, stretching his long legs onto the coffee table. He narrowed his handsome eyes, a faint weariness etched between his brows.

Olive's soft voice reached his ears as she continued reading to Nathan. Elvis felt his throat constrict. Soon, Aunty Layla returned with a bowl of soup. "Master, drink this." Elvis obliged. Aunty Layla then approached Olive. "Miss Hart, it's late. Let me call you a car."

Olive glanced up from the comic, her eyes meeting Aunty Layla's kind gaze. Aunty Layla was unaware that Olive intended to stay. Olive hesitated, unsure what to say. In Aunty Layla's eyes, Elvis was the host, and Olive simply Nathan's teacher. Olive's expression was strained. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, acutely aware of the intense gaze from the sofa. "Aunty Layla, I—"

At that moment, Elvis's deep voice cut through the air: "Aunty Layla, prepare the guest room. Miss Hart will not be going home tonight."

Aunty Layla paused, her eyes flitting between Elvis and Olive. A flicker of understanding crossed her face. "Right then… I'll prepare the guest room," she said, hurrying away.

Olive's face flushed crimson. She knew Aunty Layla suspected something. While Elvis's position wouldn't be compromised, Olive felt awkward about facing Aunty Layla later. A small hand tugged at her shirt. Little Nathan looked up, worriedly asking, "Teacher, your face is red. Are you unwell?"

Olive hastily shook her head. "Nathan, I'm fine. Perhaps… it's just warm in here."

Elvis watched her, a glint in his eye. She wore a pale yellow dress, her legs demurely crossed as she sat on the carpet with Nathan. Her posture was always graceful and reserved, her thin legs neatly intertwined, knees slightly bent; like a mermaid.

He rose, kneeling beside them. "Nathan, what's wrong with Miss Hart?"

Nathan pointed to Olive's flushed face. "Dad, Teacher Hart seems ill."

"Let me see," Elvis said, reaching out to touch her forehead. Olive swiftly turned away. He knew perfectly well what caused her distress, yet he feigned concern. His large hand froze in midair, his brows darkening as he pursed his lips. "Nathan, there's a medicine box upstairs. Fetch Miss Hart's thermometer."

"Okay," Nathan replied, running upstairs.

With Aunty Layla and Nathan gone, only Elvis and Olive remained. Elvis's slender fingers gently cupped Olive's chin, tilting her face upward. "Olive, are you still playing coy? Do you believe you have the right to refuse me?"

Olive looked up, meeting the dark anger in his eyes. "Mr. Augustine, you misunderstand. Didn't you say our relationship must remain private? I'm afraid of Aunty Layla and Nathan finding out."

Elvis gave her a cold look, then raised an eyebrow. "Nathan won't know, of course. As for Aunty Layla… do you think she'll remain oblivious if we spend the night together?" His blunt description left Olive's face fluctuating between red and white. Even without explanation, Aunty Layla would undoubtedly realize what happened after cleaning the guest room.

Olive's fingers curled, wondering what Aunty Layla would think of her, a teacher, sharing her master's bed.

"What are you contemplating? Don't worry, Aunty Layla is broad-minded. I'm not married. It's perfectly normal to bring a woman home overnight, understand?"

Olive's eyes widened. "Oh."

Elvis studied her delicate features, his fingertips tracing her milky skin. His gaze held both charm and menace. He lowered his head, kissing her lips. The scent of alcohol was strong. He had clearly drunk heavily. Olive stiffened, passively returning the kiss, acutely aware of the possibility of Aunty Layla and Nathan's sudden return.