Chapter 7 Temptation

Maggie worried, thinking about how to escape, when Harold suddenly turned back. She was surprised, her long eyelashes fluttering, "I…"
Harold threw a black executive jacket onto her lap without saying a word, rolled up a whiff of ink-scented wind, and left again.
The A Hall Courtyard was set behind a vermilion stone arch. Red roses bloomed brilliantly, filling the courtyard with the fragrance of plum blossoms.
Jake stood at the end of the corridor, "Thought you weren't coming."
There were a few loud opera voices coming from inside. Harold frowned, pinched out his cigarette butt between his fingertips, and quickened his pace.
Mr. Ross loved to listen to operas. Two rooms in the courtyard were connected, and a temporary stage had been set up. They were performing the Famous Opera "South Pacific."
Someone stood up during the performance and raised a toast to the elderly man sitting at the center of the table, "General Ross is a true hero in battle. Mr. Ross, your heroic spirit remains as strong as ever."
Mr. Ross didn't decline the gesture either. In his old age, he was frail and only skin and bones, but his back remained straight, and he gestured to a woman on his right to help him refill his cup.
This elderly veteran of the war had once been grazed by a bullet. In his youth, his strong physique allowed him to endure, but now he relied on medication to prolong his life. When others offered him a toast, though his situation, he insisted to return it, which showed he was straightforward.
This earned him applause throughout the room.
However, the woman beside him persisted, barely able to keep up with the stubbornness of the old man.
In the corner of his eye, Harold caught sight of Heather's excited figure as he walked in. She jumped up and said, "Harold, I tried to persuade Grandpa not to drink, but he didn't listen." Without hesitation, Harold quickly walked to the table, where there was an empty seat on the left side of Mr. Ross, specifically reserved for him.
As Harold sat down, he picked up the warm whiskey. Its pure and intense flavor heated his throat as he took a sip, causing a few drops to splash on the enticing angle of his throat – one of a man's sexiest bones, with a sharpness reminiscent of a chiseled knife.
It was mesmerizing to Heather, as if under a spell.
The city's relief delegation was visiting the veterans, and Harold, as the mayor's chief of staff, was the only person qualified to represent the President. There were two reasons for this.
First, Harold came from a prestigious background. His grandfather was a war hero and his grandmother, a member of the largest ethnic capitalist family in Radiant City.
Radiant City, home to the Edwards family, was of the highest social status.
He was here to stand up for Mr. Ross and intercept this toast.
During the banquet, Heather walked over to Harold with a bottle of wine. She intentionally poured it slowly, her voice filled with concern. "Harold, why are you dressed so lightly?"
In the late winter of February, with gusts of wind in the air, Harold only wore a thin shirt. The muscles and tendons on his jaw, which extended to his collarbone, swelled with vibrant blue, frozen by the cold.
"I'm not cold," Harold replied coldly, his attention seemingly elsewhere. The alcohol was churning in his bloodstream, emanating an undeniable restlessness from his depths.
Inevitably, he thought of Maggie again, her slender waist, white chest, and white buttocks. Her lips were coated with something shiny and oily.
She had approached him earlier, her appearance disheveled and coy. At first, she didn't appeal to him, but the slanting rays of sunlight happened to cast a red rose shadow on her cheek, right next to her birthmark.
It added a touch of charm.
But with Harold's momentary lapse in judgment, she approached him intimately.
On the bed, she spread her legs and fingered herself, making lewd moans as her tight hole was penetrated, and her isolated toes clenched tightly when she reached climax…
Harold's eyes turned red from the heat, and he felt a swelling sensation downstairs. He suddenly stood up, startling Heather, "Where are you going?"
"Just going out to get some cold air," he replied.
He reached for his coat hanging on the back of the chair, but it was gone. He had given it to that woman...
For a moment, Harold's jawline tightened.
There were no true gentlemen in this world, and most men couldn't resist temptation. Whether a woman could captivate them or understand their hearts was the real skill.
...
Heather followed him out. "There's a suit of my brother's in the car. He has a similar body size to yours. I can go get it for you to wear."
Leo had a jacket in his hand and was about to report to Harold, but the man interrupted him, pointing at the jacket. "The clothes have arrived."
"Oh," Heather gripped the edge of the door, her fingertips turning white from the force. "It's just this one, but it's still too thin."
Harold blew off the red rose petals that had landed on his sleeve. "Almost done, Mrs. Murphy, the old man needs someone to take care of him."
Heather, a few years younger than him, felt disappointed. He didn't even call her by her nickname, and their relationship felt distant. She reluctantly turned back.
"Did you get any information?" Harold asked.
Leo shook his head. "Nothing. This Mrs. Green claims she doesn't know you. She came with her husband for Begin Holdings' Year-ending Party, which is the company's annual meeting, taking place in the side hall."
Leo took out a registration form and handed it to Harold. "She did come with Matt, the General Manager of Sterling Holdings. We've checked the surveillance footage, and there is no evidence of any malicious intent."
Harold scanned the crowded list of names on the form. "What's her name?"
"Her last name is Green, and her first name is Maggie, spelled as M-A-G-G-I-E."
Her name was squeezed into the bottom of the list, written in graceful handwriting.
Leo hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to say something or not, but eventually, he spoke up. "Their relationship may not be in a good place. They had a fight in the lounge, room 205."
"A fight?" Harold raised an eyebrow. This woman seemed to have different sides.