Chapter 619: Whistling at Him Perversely

Olive was startled. Aunt Davina, quick and direct, immediately asked Elvis if he was married.

Elvis's handsome face remained impassive. He glanced at Aunt Davina, then pursed his lips: "It's none of your business whether I'm married or not."

Olive looked at Elvis in surprise. This was truly audacious.

Aunt Davina smiled sheepishly. "Mr. Hart," she said, "my daughter, Tiffany, saw your striking appearance and fell in love at first sight. If you're not married, then my daughter…"

Before she could finish, Elvis's narrow eyes fixed on the shy Tiffany. He said callously, "I'm not interested in you. I already have someone in my heart."

Tiffany's embarrassed expression froze. A young girl, so bluntly and cruelly rejected, her face paled, tears of humiliation welling up.

"Olive, let's go," Elvis said, turning and walking into the cabin without looking back.

"Okay," Olive replied, hurrying after him, having witnessed the spectacle.

Elvis and Olive refused Aunt Davina's offering of meat, and soon found themselves staring in disbelief at their two bowls of plain steamed rice.

Elvis, a privileged child born into a family of five-star chefs, had always enjoyed a luxurious lifestyle. Looking at the rice, he frowned. "Olive, is this your cooking?"

"President Augustine," Olive retorted, "haven't you heard that clever women can't cook? Without meat and vegetables, what can I possibly make?" She refused to endure his temper. Was she not a princess too?

Elvis's frown deepened.

Olive picked up her chopsticks, took a delicate bite of rice, and then said, "Mr. Augustine, Aunt Davina had meat and vegetables. Why did you refuse her? Couldn't you have accepted her offering?"

Elvis's hawk-like eyes narrowed on her small face. "You mean... you want me to humble myself?"

"Exactly," Olive nodded. "After all, Mr. Augustine, you've certainly been adept at attracting women these past three years."

"Olive, don't you find that odd?"

"No."

"What if I told you my relationships with those women over the past three years were all a sham? Would you believe me?"

Olive's small hand holding the chopsticks stilled. She looked up, surprised. "What did you just say?"

Elvis pursed his lips slightly. "Olive, you're quite good at pretending. If you have a problem with your hearing, perhaps you should see a doctor."

With that, Elvis stood and left.

Olive watched his tall, handsome figure disappear. His words echoed in her ears: "What if I told you my relationships with those women over the past three years were all a sham? Would you believe me?"

Her heart pounded, the calm within her disturbed, like a pebble dropped into a still lake.

No. She didn't believe it. She couldn't forget how he'd locked her in a closet to listen to the sounds of his intimacies with other women. Those were facts. He had to be lying. He had to be lying!

Olive didn't wait for Elvis's return. Where had he gone?

She went to find him, soon spotting him by the river, standing in the water with a wooden spear, spearfishing.

The riverbed was clearly visible. Unmarried boys and girls from the tribe splashed water at each other, the most attractive couple receiving the most splashes.

Elvis, dressed in black, stood tall and aloof. The girls in the river stole glances at him, blushing instantly.

One girl dared to splash him, then more and more joined in. His wet black clothes clung to his body, revealing his strong chest and perfectly toned waist. His belt was cinched around his lean waist. Olive could barely look away.

Elvis’s physique wasn't overly muscular like a fitness trainer's, but noble and perfect. He was clearly here to show off.

Olive sat calmly on a large rock, her snow-white feet in the cool water. She glanced sideways at Elvis, surrounded by a group of women. She noted his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, and wider hips, his commanding presence making the girls blush and giggle.

Olive then winked mischievously and whistled perversely.

Hearing the whistle, Elvis glanced at her, his gaze dropping to her small, snow-white feet. She wore a black ethnic dress, her long hair styled in flower buds, her face small and delicate, like porcelain.

Now her little feet played in the water, creating crystal splashes. She dared to meet his gaze, whistling back with a stubborn, defiant air that both angered and intrigued him.

Elvis swallowed, last night's memories rekindled, his gaze falling on the dampened fabric clinging to his trousers.

A shy girl flinched, embarrassed, but then peeked back at Elvis, clearly longing to interact.

Olive, observing from her rock, noticed Elvis’ wet trousers clinging to his thighs. In front of all these girls, he was remarkably… ostentatious. The girls were clearly captivated.

Elvis ignored the girls, his spear plunging swiftly and powerfully into the water. He caught a fish. Then another.

He then strode towards Olive, his presence eclipsing all the other boys. They automatically made way. His years of dominance were undeniable.

He reached her side, his hair and face splashed with water, his wet hair clinging to his forehead. He looked every bit the noble son, strikingly handsome. His deep, narrow eyes met hers. He laughed. "Why the whistle?"