She Stays Here Tonight

"Hey maid, come over here," Elvis commanded.

"Why? What are you doing?" Olive stood up and walked over.

Elvis reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her gently. Olive fell against his thigh.

"What do you think you're doing?" Olive hastily stood up.

"You're angry? Didn't you just refer to yourself as a maid?"

Olive's eyes glared at him. "I said I'm a maid, not your plaything!"

Elvis smirked. "This is the first time I've seen a maid without a uniform. I'm afraid you understand perfectly well what a plaything is."

Olive hadn't expected him to say such a thing. He seemed serious, yet unexpectedly lustful. Elvis, though single, was a mature man.

He handed her a candy. "Little maid, peel it. I want to eat it."

"I thought you said you don't eat sugary food," Olive retorted.

"Well, today's an exception," Elvis said, fixing his gaze on her face as he waited.

Olive forcefully peeled the candy. She stuffed the small, multicolored candy into his mouth.

Elvis licked the candy slowly, a smile on his face. He squinted his narrow eyes and asked in a low voice, "Little maid, do you have any ultimate goal?"

"Ultimate goal?" Olive asked, confused.

"Yes, isn't the ultimate goal of a maid to lay on her master's bed?"

Olive's eyes widened. Unexpectedly, he was acting like a hooligan again. Elvis grabbed her hand, wrapping it in his palm. He laughed softly.

Footsteps approached. Rita was returning from her tour of the villa. Olive quickly pulled away from Elvis and stood straight.

Rita walked in. She looked at Elvis charmingly and admiringly. "Elvis, the Red Villa is so beautiful."

Elvis stood up coldly. He said indifferently, without glancing at Rita, "Dinner's ready. Let's eat."

In the dining room, Elvis and Rita sat opposite each other. Olive didn't join them; she went to the kitchen to assist. She walked into the dining room with a bowl of baked chicken. She heard Rita say, "Elvis, I suddenly remembered a document needing your signature. It's late already; can I at least spend the night here?"

Elvis glanced at Olive and nodded. "Okay, you can spend the night here."

Olive suddenly imagined what might happen between Elvis and Rita. She pictured Rita trying to seduce him. Olive stared at Elvis angrily, wondering why he'd agree.

Lost in thought, she felt her finger burning. She hastily pulled her hand from the hot chicken pot. Seeing her bruised finger, she frowned.

Elvis pulled her finger and caressed it soothingly. "Why be so careless? Does it hurt?" He brought her finger to his mouth and kissed it. Olive's eyelashes fluttered; she swiftly pulled away.

"I'll go upstairs and deal with it," Olive said, turning and heading upstairs.

Rita watched in shock. Elvis was concerned about a maid's injured finger? Rita was certain there was intimacy between them.

In the bedroom, Olive stood at the bathroom washstand, running cold water over her scalded finger. The scald wasn't serious, and the pain was gone. However, she reminisced about Elvis kissing her finger. It had felt soft and cool, instantly relieving the pain.

Olive turned off the tap. She didn't understand. Since he'd brought Rita home, why was he still flirting with her? Olive wasn't stupid. With Rita spending the night, who would keep Rita company?

Olive stayed in her room. Soon, a knock came at the door. Olive quickly opened it; it wasn't Elvis, but Rita. Olive hid her disappointment.

"Director Rita, do you need me to do something?" she asked.

Rita looked at Olive. Olive wore a mask; it was impossible to tell if she looked beautiful. However, Olive's black, watery eyes were impossible to ignore.

Rita's reddish lips uttered, "You said you were the maid, right? I have something for you to do." Although Rita was calm, Olive sensed rivalry.

"Okay? What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to get me a pack of condoms. I want to use them tonight."

Olive paused. "Is it for you or for Elvis?"

"Isn't it the same? I'm staying here tonight. Something will definitely happen between Elvis and me," Rita said, glaring at Olive. In a cocky tone, she added, "You're just a little maid. Are you planning on seducing Elvis? Maybe Elvis just wants to play with you. Look at yourself and then at me. Can you compare yourself to me? The person Elvis really likes is me!"

Olive sensed Rita's confidence. There was no comparison. Olive was young, delicate, and beautiful. Rita was hot, sexy, and exuded charm. Olive remembered Elvis's character: cold on the surface, but kind at heart.

Olive tightened her fist and refused bluntly, "Since he likes you, he can buy the condoms himself. Go get them."

Olive immediately closed the door. Rita yelled furiously, "Hey, go buy me a pack of condoms—no, two packs!"

Olive's back was pressed against the door. She heard Rita clearly. She felt uncomfortable, covering her ear. Was Elvis really going to touch Rita tonight?