Chapter 742: Are You Lying?

Olive’s small hand was pulled by Elvis; her face flushed red, and she looked shy. The front desk lady was stunned. Years in the industry, and she’d never seen anything like it. “Sir, who is this little girl? I shouldn’t pry, but I need to ensure no laws are broken.”

Elvis frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Do I need to clarify? Many perverted men attack little girls.”

Elvis’s face darkened. For the first time, he was called a pervert! The front desk lady looked at Olive, her eyes encouraging. “Little girl, if you were forced, blink.”

Olive shivered, her hand aching from Elvis’s pinch. “Olive, tell her who I am!”

“Miss, you misunderstood. He’s my husband,” Olive replied calmly.

Elvis’s expression relaxed. He held her hand, pinching it lovingly. The front desk lady, realizing her mistake, hastily assigned them a room.

At the room’s entrance, Elvis opened the door and said in a low voice, “Go in.” Although Olive had triplets, she remained shy as a young girl. They’d been together, but never in a hotel room before. This was a first.

Olive entered. A click announced the door locking behind her.

“Mr. Augustine, wait a minute, I’ll shower first…” Olive struggled against Elvis’s embrace. His lips fell on her face, a hard kiss before moving to her neck. “You’ll wash later.” “No, I have to shower first,” Olive insisted.

Elvis, in a hurry, put an arm around her waist, pushing her onto the bed. His fingers unbuttoned his shirt as he leaned over. “Olive, do you really miss me?”

Olive placed her hands on his shoulders, her eyes watery. “I don’t want to…”

Elvis bit her lip seductively. “A woman’s body is the most honest. Let me see if you’re lying.” He tugged at her dress.

“Mr. Augustine, be gentle! Don’t tear my clothes!”

Elvis was angry. They hadn’t been together in a while. How could she not want him? Suddenly, Olive felt a surge of blood. She grabbed his hand. “Mr. Augustine, stop!”

Elvis asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m on my period,” Olive whispered, embarrassed.

Elvis stopped, his eyes narrowed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Olive nodded seriously. “I’m on my period. I wouldn’t lie.”

Elvis pursed his lips, rolled over, and lay beside her. He looked at the chandelier, covering his eyes. “Olive, did you intentionally torture me?”

Olive felt her period was ill-timed. The man beside her was disappointed. She crawled onto his chest. “Mr. Augustine, you don’t care about me, only your desires.”

Elvis, a little aggrieved, looked at his pants. “Sorry, I can’t control myself when I see you.” He stood. “Should I call for a sanitary pad?”

“Okay,” Olive hugged her stomach and sank onto the bed. Elvis called someone, then gently massaged her abdomen. “Does your stomach hurt?”

Olive frowned slightly. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Elvis raised an eyebrow. “Then we can do some things later.”

Olive threw a pillow at his cheek. “Go shower! I don’t want to see you now!”

Elvis kissed her hair. Olive hummed and slapped him. He smiled and went to the bathroom.

Five minutes later, cold air and a refreshing scent wafted from the bathroom. Elvis emerged in a white bathrobe, his wet hair making him look youthful. The doorbell rang. It was Peterson, handing Elvis a bag.

Elvis closed the door and took out a pink sanitary napkin.

“Mr. Augustine, what kind of evil are you doing? You like girl’s tampons?”

Elvis said softly, “This protects you, not me. I need to get acquainted with it.”

Olive smiled incredulously. “Mr. Augustine, you’re a whore!”

Elvis sat on the bed, propping himself up. “If I’m a whore, what are you?” he winked.

Olive was speechless. She tucked her hair behind her ear.