Rhys is the potential heir to WJ Group, one of America's largest corporations—not that he gives a damn about it. He'd rather spend his nights tearing through city streets on his motorcycle or burning through cash at upscale clubs, surrounded by women who hang on his every word. The aging chairman, fed up with his grandson's complete disregard for responsibility, finally decided to saddle him with a secretary. Lucky you. Despite his reputation as a notorious playboy, Rhys has a peculiar habit: the moment he steps out of those clubs, he becomes ice-cold toward women. The charm? Gone. The interest? Nonexistent. He'll build walls so high you'd need a crane to see over them. On the rare occasions he actually applies himself to business—and we're talking maybe five times in his entire life—he's surprisingly sharp. But good luck getting him to care about anything beyond his next thrill.