Chapter 591: Wedding Photography

Elvis had been with many women over the past three years, but had never touched them. At 32, he knew that once the door to lust opened, things would become serious. Liam sat beside him at a table draped in a long lace tablecloth. Elvis reached out, grasping Olive's small foot. She playfully teased him, unaware of his action. His rough palm encircled her delicate ankle, then cradled her foot on his thigh like a prized possession. They sat side-by-side, her foot now trapped. The maneuver was difficult, but easy for Olive, a dancer since childhood. He wasn't worried about being discovered, but she was. She quickly withdrew her foot, only to have Elvis use his strength to firmly secure it between his thighs. Their posture was undeniably intimate. Olive's face flushed crimson.

"Olive, are you feeling warm?" Liam asked, noticing her blush.

Olive averted her gaze, apologetically murmuring, "A little."

Elvis smirked at her flustered reaction. Clara, meanwhile, felt humiliated. Her attempt to feed Elvis steak had been ignored, leaving her hand aching. Greenland's most beautiful princess, pursued by countless men, had fallen for Elvis at first sight, only to be repeatedly rejected. Yet, his rejections only intensified her desire.

"President Augustine," Clara said coyly, pouting her lips, "Open your mouth. I want to feed you a steak."

Elvis looked at her. Olive, seizing the moment, used her trapped foot to kick him forcefully in a sensitive area.

"Ouch," Elvis hissed, wincing from the sharp pain. She was ruthless; three years had made her quite hot-tempered.

"Mr. Augustine, are you alright?"

"President Augustine, what's wrong?"

Liam and Clara both looked on nervously. Elvis, biting his lip to control his pain, calmly replied, "I'm fine."

Olive swiftly retracted her leg, stood up, and announced, "I've finished eating. Enjoy yourselves." She turned and left. Elvis watched her go, admiring her graceful walk in high heels; her swaying hips and supple waist exuded an undeniable allure. He decided then and there to take her to bed that night.

That afternoon, Olive and Liam began their wedding photos. Olive, wearing a black two-piece dress, strolled along the beach as the sun set, casting a golden glow on the sparkling sea.

The photographer instructed, "Miss Hart, look here."

Elvis stood nearby, hands in his pockets, his black shirt billowing in the sea breeze. His gaze was fixed on Olive, who walked barefoot into the shallow water, her long black hair framing her face. She smiled, a captivating expression perfectly captured by the photographer. Olive's natural beauty and innate sense of style made her a photographer's dream.

While Elvis watched, so did Mr. Mahone from the resort. He was completely captivated. Clara quickly snapped a picture of Mr. Mahone's captivated gaze and smirked, thinking, "If I recall correctly, Mr. Mahone has a rather formidable wife. I wonder who she'll bite first when she finds out." She sent the picture, anticipating the ensuing drama.

The photographer called out, "Miss Hart, Mr. Theodore, let's get a couple's shot."

Liam obliged, saying, "I'm here."

"Mr. Theodore, put your arm around Miss Hart's waist, and give her a gentle kiss on the cheek," the photographer directed.

Liam did as instructed, but stopped short of the kiss.

"Princess of Visionary," he murmured, "Why do I feel a chill down my spine? Is Mr. Augustine glaring at me?"

Olive looked over Liam's shoulder, meeting Elvis's intense gaze. Elvis's hawk-like eyes were fixed on Liam's hand around her waist, seeming to pierce it with their intensity. Seeing Liam about to kiss her, Elvis's brow furrowed, his expression darkening. No wonder Liam felt cold—Elvis wanted him to vanish.

Olive whispered, "Don't worry about him."

Clara approached Elvis, feigning innocence. "Mr. Augustine, Liam and Olive are quite affectionate, aren't they?"

Elvis snorted coldly, his eyes filled with a cruel intensity. He turned to leave, ignoring Clara.

"President Augustine, where are you going?" Clara asked.

He didn't answer, going to a secluded spot to make a phone call. Olive and Liam prepared for another shot, but Mr. Mahone rushed over, sweating, "I'm so sorry, King of Gold City, Princess of Visionary. I just received a call from my boss. He's ordered that photography is prohibited in this area!"