Chapter 543: I Want Her
Elvis! Harper’s family was impoverished, so her childhood dream was to attend a prestigious university, ideally Imperial, and marry someone influential. She once saw Elvis in a rare business magazine and was instantly captivated. Learning that Elvis’s son attended an aristocratic kindergarten, she seized the opportunity to gain proximity to Nathan, and ultimately, Elvis. She'd answered his call earlier that day; his deep, masculine voice still echoed in her ears. To actually meet him, and even touch him… she felt like she was dreaming. Looking at his handsome, mature face, Harper felt giddy.
Tall and handsome, Elvis condescendingly narrowed his eyes, glanced at Harper clinging to his leg, and said in a deep voice, “Let go!” Harper knew she couldn't miss this chance. She adopted a pitiful expression: “Sir, save me! I’m an innocent girl. I don’t want to be sold. Please save me.”
Elvis’s gaze fell upon her youthful beauty, revealing no emotion. He pocketed a hand and coldly assessed her. “You’ve found the wrong person. I’m not a philanthropist. Why should I save you?” He pulled his leg away and began to walk.
“Sir, I’m with you!” Harper called out to his retreating figure.
Elvis paused. His gaze fell on her face, then slowly lowered, his normally indifferent eyes now tinged with a hint of something dark, barely visible in the hallway’s champagne-yellow light. He smirked. “Want to talk to me? There are many women here. What makes you think you’re different?”
Harper stood, meeting his gaze. “Sir, I’m a virgin. A bar offered me a significant sum to become a high-end escort. I’m young, beautiful, with a perfect figure and a natural body. I’m nineteen and a trainee teacher at Prince Augustine’s kindergarten.”
Harper was confident. She possessed a pretty face, a slim waist, and a shapely figure. Even a high-end bar wanted her as a top-tier escort; she was the type of woman business leaders desired. Surely, Elvis would too.
Elvis narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her from head to toe, before casually curling his lips. “A teacher?”
“Yes, I’m Little Master Augustine’s teacher.”
Elvis’s hand, still in his pocket, fidgeted. He recalled that Olive, also a kindergarten teacher, was Harper’s colleague. The memory of their encounter that night flooded his mind: Olive, so sweetly pampered, her skin so smooth he’d longed to touch, to hold… His throat tightened; a dark glint appeared in his eyes. Damn it, just thinking of Olive angered him. Yet, she wouldn't be with him. The throbbing pain at the back of his head served as a stark reminder of her striking him with a table lamp.
Thinking of the three years he'd remained celibate for her, only to discover her desire for Derrick Domino, a surge of resentment welled up inside him. He needed to prove he didn't need her; that he could find other women. Harper, a girl from the slums, was intriguing, sharp, yet undeniably alluring—but not enough. Compared to Olive, she paled in comparison. Yet, Olive was unreasonable; she rebuffed his advances, her resistance and lack of… compliance frustrating him beyond measure.
His noble brows darkened. He glared at his two bodyguards. “I want her.”
The two men nodded respectfully. “Yes, Mr. Augustine. We will prepare her and bring her to your bed.”
Elvis left. He returned to his room, showered, and emerged moments later in black silk pajamas. Harper was already there. She’d showered as well, wearing a short black dress, barefoot on the plush carpet. She'd been thoroughly examined before being brought to the room; her body checked for any signs of artificial hymen reconstruction, a procedure common for women entering the world of high-class prostitution. She was, in essence, a commodity for the wealthy.
Harper looked at Elvis; his imposing presence—the aura of a successful tycoon—filled her with a mixture of awe and desire. She didn't want to serve old men; she wanted this handsome young emperor. Her life, it seemed, was about to change dramatically.
Elvis dried his hair and tossed the towel on the sofa, his gaze settling on Harper. “Come here.”
Harper obediently approached. “President Augustine.”
He looked at her; her youthful beauty, her admiring gaze—he’d seen this look before, on Olive's face. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist, pulling her close. Harper fell into his embrace.
Elvis lowered his head, nearing her face. Harper’s heart pounded. This was her first encounter with a man like Elvis, his power both intimidating and intoxicating. Was he going to kiss her? She felt herself melting.
He drew near, but stopped short, inhaling her scent. She smelled of shower gel, but it wasn't Olive's scent. Olive's aroma, like a poppy, had been addictive. Harper lacked that intoxicating fragrance.
Elvis frowned, calmly releasing Harper. He didn't kiss her. Harper opened her eyes to see him turning towards the sofa, lighting a cigarette, and smoking in silence. The temperature in the room plummeted. Harper sensed his sudden disinterest, the rejection palpable. He'd dismissed her.