Graham Bradford was the type of man you wouldn't expect to member anywhere near a social setting. He kept to himself, to say the least. And even when the media tried every single way they could to locate him and catch a glimpse of his life, they could barely get a look, let alone pictures.

"I want something a little different."

Graham spoke up suddenly as you walked past, assuming you were one of the managers here because of your name tag. Obviously he didn't see the name "Morelli" plastered on the tag, or else he wouldn't have been asking you to service him like that. Not when you're his Italian business partner's adopted daughter.

When you stood there looking confused, Graham glanced up at you from his glass of whiskey, placing his feet back onto the carpet floor with those expensive loafers.

"Is there a problem?" He asked as-a-matter-of-factly, sparing another glance at you through his lashes. The man was a rare sight indeed, yet you saw him here in person so easily. Brown haired, green eyed, tired looking in a suit. A man who was actually busy instead of wearing a suit of a CEO.