Chapter 442

He’s done. He offended his father-in-law!

Elvis hugged Olive, who lay nestled in his lap. Phone in one hand, he brushed the hair from her face, then lifted her, smirking. “Olive’s next to me. She’s very tired; she’s already asleep.” His words strongly implied intimacy to Damien, who, upon hearing them, pursed his lips and asked, “Do you live with Olive?”

Elvis felt a surge of triumph. Marvin had just left, and he hadn’t expected Mr. Robert to also be interested in Olive. Facing this unexpected rival, Elvis retorted, “Yes, I do. Mr. Robert, I believe I’ve made that perfectly clear. If you’re feeling lonely, I can introduce you to some women.” Damien hung up without response.

“Mr. Augustine,” Olive asked tearfully, “Who was that?”

Elvis tossed the phone onto the nightstand. “Damien Robert.”

Olive frowned. “Why did Mr. Robert call? And Mr. Augustine, you said you’d introduce… a woman to Mr. Robert?”

Elvis pinched her cheek. “I offered to introduce a woman to Damien. Any objections?”

“What?” Olive pushed his hand away. “It’s unwise to provoke Mr. Robert. He hung up on you, clearly angry. If you ever fall out of favor, being at his mercy would be miserable.”

Elvis, far from scared, was gloating. He pinned Olive down. “I don’t want to marry his daughter, Crystal. I don’t care if he’s angry. I won’t fall into his hands. Mrs. Augustine, you’re the one I want to marry, and I’ll only fall into the hands of your father—my father-in-law!”

After their playful tussle, Elvis bathed Olive. She fell asleep instantly. He kissed her forehead and went to the bathroom alone. He was startled to find some of Olive’s long hair in the trash—she was losing her hair.

Elvis’s dark eyes were intense as he went to his office. He lit a cigarette, the dim light obscuring his expression. Peterson entered, saying quietly, “Young Master, today is the fourth day. Our agreement with Amelia expires tomorrow. She hasn’t contacted us, and we don’t know if she obtained the recipe from Jean.”

Elvis took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and tapped his cigarette into the ashtray. “I believe her. Tomorrow, she’ll deliver the recipe.”

Peterson nodded. “Young Master, I have something to report. You asked me to watch Damien. Something’s happened.”

Elvis raised an eyebrow. “What?” He’d assigned Peterson to watch Damien long ago—that man wanted his woman, but he wouldn’t allow it!

“Young Master, Damien’s butler took two hairs to a lab for a paternity test two days ago.”

Elvis stopped smoking, staring at Peterson. “A paternity test? Damien and Crystal?”

Peterson nodded. “Certainly.”

Elvis, shrewd since his teens, was rarely surprised, but this stunned him. Perhaps Crystal wasn’t his daughter. Who was, then? He remembered Damien’s recent interest in Olive, and his call. Could it be…? The cigarette fell from his hand. He stood, hands on hips, before the French window.

Peterson asked suspiciously, “Young Master, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… except… I’ve fallen into Damien’s hands!” Jealousy had blinded him; he’d assumed Damien desired Olive, making him a rival. But Damien wasn’t a rival at all—he was his father-in-law.

Elvis recalled his insults to Damien, his boastful offer to find him women after sleeping with his daughter. His heart sank. What should he do? He needed to calm down. He would fix this.

When Elvis returned to the room, Olive was asleep. He whispered, “Wake up, Olive.”

Olive opened her eyes, a sleepy kitten in his lap. “Don’t make noise. I’m sleepy.”

“Olive, we’ll sleep later. Do you have a picture of your mother?”

“Yes.” She retrieved a photograph. “This is the only picture of me and Mum.”

Elvis took it. “I’ll return it.”

“Why do you want it?” Olive asked.

Elvis patted her head. “Sleep.”

Olive, sensing his mystery, warned, “Don’t lose or damage it.”

“Don’t worry. This photo is my amulet. I rely on my mother-in-law to protect me.” He kissed her forehead. “Sleep.”