Chapter 637 He Kissed Her

Olive stood obediently in the corner, not daring to move. In the melee, she had to defend herself first, avoiding dragging Elvis down. A bodyguard threw a wine bottle at her. Her eyelashes trembled; she quietly touched the silver needle at her waist. But before her vision darkened, a wave of clean, masculine strength propelled Elvis forward, shielding her in his chest. The bottle shattered.

Olive saw that Elvis’s black sleeve was cut, revealing a long, bloody gash. He had protected her. He was injured! Olive gasped, her heart seizing. She quickly pressed on his wound. Looking at her pale face, Elvis, his tall frame shrouded in shadow and bloody hostility, smirked coldly. "Satisfied? So many men fighting over you."

Olive was speechless. Security guards and Raven's reinforcements quickly arrived, stabilizing the situation. Raven knocked out two bodyguards and rushed to Elvis. "Elvis, are you okay?"

"No problem," Elvis replied, his thin lips pursed. He grabbed Olive's wrist and pulled her away, striding toward the door, kicking it open and pulling her inside. Before she could stand, he dragged her into the bathroom, pushing her to the sink and turning on the cold water to wash her wrists.

What was he doing? Olive frowned and struggled, but his strength was overwhelming. He used his long fingers to firmly grasp her hand, his beautiful eyes focused on cleaning her wrists.

Elvis felt soiled. The image of her wrists being manhandled by those drunken men fueled a surge of bloodthirsty fury. He couldn't bear the thought of other men touching her, even holding her hand. He knew his reaction was extreme, but he couldn't control it.

Olive sensed his anger and remained calm. After a few minutes, Elvis stopped, pressing her against the wall. His fingers tightened on her jaw as he glared. "Did I warn you not to mess around outside? Don't you understand?"

"No, I didn't do anything!" Olive hastily denied.

Elvis let out a low, dangerous laugh. "Then why don't you show me you split your legs?"

Olive's life was clean, but she'd heard stories of wealthy men showering women with money, rewarding them for...indiscretion. She stared at him, realizing he'd never experienced such things himself but knew how to taunt with them.

She recalled a magazine article about truly grown men—powerful, wealthy, and insightful about women. Such men, the article claimed, fulfilled all feminine fantasies. Olive couldn't deny her attraction to this type of man, yet she sensed an underlying ruthlessness beneath his elegance. But what did his words mean?

She suddenly understood his perception of her. Did he...love her? Her eyelashes trembled as she looked at him skeptically.

Elvis realized he'd overstepped. He still couldn't accept being "seduced" by a maid. He quickly released her.

Olive took his injured arm, signaling her intention to bandage him. Back in the room, Elvis sat on the bed as Olive knelt to remove his bloody shirt, carefully cleaning his wound with alcohol. Seeing the deep gash, her heart ached. This was the wound he'd suffered saving her.

"Are you hurt?" she asked softly.

Elvis, his face shadowed in the dim light, murmured, "Yes."

Olive pursed her lips and blew on his wound.

Elvis looked at her, remembering her tender touch on his back in the mansion, a moment of vulnerability and boasting. A tenderness flickered in his eyes. He drew his legs together, trapping her between them.

Olive grabbed his shirt to steady herself, finding herself caught between his legs. Their breaths mingled. Elvis looked at her, then slowly covered her mouth and nose, leaving only her eyes visible. Their clarity captivated him, strangely familiar. Looking only at her eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice deep.

Olive's heart leaped. Her suspicions seemed confirmed. He loved her, or at least, she was special. Otherwise, he wouldn't be jealous, wouldn't have fought for her, wouldn't be so vulnerable before her.

Olive felt a surge of hope, a willingness to risk everything. Lowering her head, she kissed his lips.

Elvis's pupils dilated. She had kissed him! Though a fleeting touch, her soft lips and feminine scent captivated him. He pulled her onto his lap.