Chapter 743 Be honest!

Elvis couldn't admit his desire for her. He leaned down, kissing her hair; its sweet fragrance captivated him. "Shall I help you apply the sanitary napkin?"

Olive was stunned. A man like him, a world ruler, offering to help with such a personal task? "Mmm, no need…" she replied.

"Then do you want me to help you wash?"

"Wash what?"

"Wash my underwear?"

An image flashed in Olive's mind—her panties in his palm. Embarrassed, she blushed. "I don't want you to wash my panties!" she refused, yet a quiet happiness warmed her.

Elvis brushed his lips against her face. "Olive, aren't you thinking too much?"

Olive's face flushed. "What?"

"It's not just your underwear that needs washing. Perhaps you'd like a shower? I can help…"

The meaning dawned on Olive. He wasn't offering to wash her panties; he wanted to bathe her. The sweetness vanished. She bolted upright, hitting him with her fist.

Elvis caught her fist, smiling. "Sometimes, overthinking is self-indulgent. Your underwear is stained. If you want to discard it, I'll buy you a new one."

Olive was speechless. Never had she encountered such extravagance. "Men buy women jewelry and diamonds, and Mr. Augustine buys me new underwear. Shall I say thank you?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

Elvis saw her anger. He rose, standing by the bedside, and extended his hand. "Do you want me to wash the panties? It's not impossible, but you'll need to remove them first."

Olive's face burned. Defeated—she would never win against Elvis—she acted. She jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom. She wouldn't be tricked!

Olive showered and changed before returning. Elvis sat on the bed's edge.

"You're just in time. I have lemon water."

Olive climbed onto the bed, sniffing disdainfully. She disliked lemon water. Elvis leaned against the headboard, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a cup into her hand. "Hold your nose and drink it. It will settle your stomach."

Olive pouted, taking two reluctant sips. "It's awful. I won't drink any more."

Elvis looked at her delicate features. "Honey, drink more," he urged.

Olive pushed his hand away. "I'm not drinking it. Do you know how unpleasant this lemon tastes?!"

Elvis covered her lips with his. Seconds later, he whispered, "It's not that bad."

Olive pressed against his chest, trying to push him away, but Elvis took a mouthful of lemon water and kissed her again, forcing her to swallow. Overwhelmed, she had no choice. Soon, the lemon water tasted clean, even refreshing. He smelled good. Elvis emptied the cup, placing it on the table. "In the future, if you want me to feed you, say so."

"You shouldn't take advantage of me!" she muttered, trying to expel the lemon water, her hands clutching his pajamas.

Elvis stared intently. Olive's heart leaped. She'd said the wrong thing. "My stomach is uncomfortable. I want to sleep."

Elvis covered her stomach. He warned, in a low voice, "Be honest. Don't stir up trouble."

"I didn't! It was you…"

"When did I take advantage of you? I don't understand." Elvis felt aggrieved. Her silence after she left—no messages for days—terrified him. She dared not move, fearing his loss of control.

He kissed her again. Olive frowned, enduring the silent protest. Then, noises from the next room intruded. The hotel's poor soundproofing was evident.

Olive shivered, looking at the man behind her. Elvis's handsome face darkened. He smashed something against the wall. The noise subsided. Olive couldn't help but smile.

Elvis grabbed her waist. "What are you laughing at? Don't laugh!"

"Oh," Olive tried to stop, but soon she was laughing again. Elvis was about to reprimand her when his phone rang. Late at night.

"Mr. Augustine, your phone is ringing."

"Don't worry about it."

Olive looked at him. "Mr. Augustine, is this call from Naomi?"