"Did he ask you to plead for him?"

At seven in the evening, a Boeing business jet touched down at Sandviken Airport.

The cabin door opened, and a tall, slender figure emerged. He looked at the sky and stretched out his hand to catch a few glistening snowflakes. Standing under the warm orange light, he was in no hurry to leave, his face turned to the side as he patiently waited for the delicate white flakes to slowly pile up on his coat shoulders. 

Time seemed to stand still.

Finally, the butler, Malcolm, approached him. "Young Master, your grandfather has requested that you go directly to the mansion upon your arrival."

After getting off the plane, a black Bentley was waiting in the square. He got into the car and glanced out the window - the snow seemed to fall heavier.

Stepping off the plane, a black Bentley awaited him in the plaza. He got into the car and looked out the window as the snow fell even heavier.

"What about her?" Murray, weary, leaned back in his seat, massaging his temples.

The butler replied: "Miss Rockefeller has been at the villa ever since you went abroad; she hasn't stepped outside once."

"She hasn't left the house all month?" Murray opened his half-closed eyes, a mocking smile on his pale lips. "How obedient of her."

"Miss Rockefeller plays the piano and dances daily, with over a dozen people waiting on her - her days have been comfortable enough."

Murray: "Go to the villa."

The butler was somewhat concerned. "Today is Thanksgiving, sir, and the elders are all waiting for you."

Murray tilted his chin up slightly, his voice cool. "They've already waited this long; a bit more won't matter."

"Yes, sir."

The car headed towards Elite Peak in the western part of the city.

Thanksgiving is the most significant holiday. The Elite Peak Resort's villa complex was decorated festively, softening the cold, aloof luxury of the villas.

The car stopped in front of a standalone villa halfway up the hill.

The snow continued to fall; uniformed servants lined up in two rows outside the main door to welcome him.

Beyond the gate was a path paved with cobblestones, flanked by various shapes and sizes of potted plants and trees.

Murray paused before a newly planted white plum tree in the yard.

The white plum tree was thriving, with a graceful shape, fine yet strong branches, and flowers with white petals and yellow centers, each seeming to dance in the breeze.

He stood quietly for a while, then turned to the butler and said, "Let them have a holiday."

"Yes, sir." 

Although he had agreed, the butler still tried to advise, "Should we keep a few to cook and clean?"

"No need. You should go rest as well."

After dismissing everyone, Murray stood alone in the yard, looking towards the second floor. The house was unlit, shrouded in darkness, exuding a sense of vast, quiet emptiness.

Entering the hall, Murray shed his coat, which was wrapped in the chill of the outside, and headed straight for the second floor.

The entire second floor was a massive, unobstructed space, with walls on all sides made of large glass panels. The ceiling was also made of crystal, clear enough to reflect a person's silhouette.

In the center of the room was a large circular bed on which a woman was soundly asleep.

Scattered haphazardly on the expensive carpet were empty wine bottles, including the rare vintage he had won at Christie's auction. The Persian "Vase" carpet, a national treasure bought at the London auction, was also stained by spilled red wine and whiskey. 

His expression was impassive as he glanced indifferently at the woman on the bed.

She was wearing a shimmery pink heavy silk satin robe, very long but revealing a glimpse of pale calves. Her skin was flawless, like porcelain. 

Her long hair shone in the faint light seeping through the windows, lush and smooth as satin. Her features were exquisitely elegant, so just a glance was enough to stir endless fantasies.  

Murray's throat involuntarily tightened. He didn't wake the woman on the bed, instead undressing and entering the bathroom.

"This is my breeding ground, also, my collection. "

After his shower, when he returned from the bathroom, Emily Rockefeller had awakened. She sat up, her face clouded with confusion.

"You said you wouldn't be back for three more days?"

Murray was adjusting his cuffs, answering her absently, "Oh? Did I disrupt your plans by coming back early?"

"Hmph." 

Emily got out of bed, swaying unsteadily as she approached Murray and wound herself around him like a snake, undoing the shirt buttons he had just done up. 

"I thought I wouldn't get to sleep with a man for three more days, but now one has just walked through my door. Would you say that's disrupted my plans?"

Murray glanced coldly at her. "Stop messing around."  

"But I want to."

Emily bit down on his prominent Adam's apple.

At that moment, the man's defenses completely collapsed. Amidst intimate caresses, his body ignited, his eyes radiating a strange radiance.

"You always seduce me with some motive, so tell me - what is it you want this time?" 

His voice remained cool and detached, devoid of emotion, as if the person lost in passion was someone else, while the speaker was merely an observer.

"Elton... he's returning to the country soon, and I want you to give him the position of CEO at Fiduinvest," Emily managed to say, her speech broken by his movements.

Murray scoffed. After a pause, he intensified his grip, his tone laced with mockery, "Did he ask you to plead for him?"

Emily clenched her teeth. "No, he doesn't know about us."

"Really doesn't know?"

Murray frowned, breathing heavily. His hand gripping her waist tightened, eliciting a muffled groan from Emily. She couldn't continue speaking, only gasping for breath on his shoulder.

Murray got up and lightly lifted Emily, carrying her towards the bathroom. 

"So, you agree?" she managed to ask.

"I'll see how you perform," replied Murray, pulling her into the spacious bathtub. Murray pulled her into the spacious tub, water splashing as a new "battlefield" began.

...

Perhaps because it had been too long, he was exceptionally vigorous this time, leaving Emily utterly exhausted. By the last round, she nearly lost consciousness.  

"I think you need to improve your skills. Regardless of profession, you should know it's survival of the fittest. Understand?"

Murray was handsome, with chiseled features and a sculpted face. But because he seldom smiled, his eyes held a hint of gloom. 

So his words didn't sound like he was joking, but rather more like a boss admonishing a subordinate.  

With her last breath, Emily nodded. The boss was right.