I don’t do romance. I don’t do love. I certainly don’t do relationships. Women are attracted to my power and money and I like a nice ass and a pretty smile. It’s a fair exchange—a business deal for pleasure. Meeting Beth Harrison in the first class cabin of my flight from Chicago to London throws me for a loop and everything I know about myself and women goes out the window. I’m usually good at reading people, situations, the markets. I know instantly if I can trust someone or if they’re lying. But Beth is so contradictory and confounding I don’t know which way is up. She’s sweet but so sexy she makes my knees weak and mouth dry. She’s confident but so vulnerable I want to wrap her up and protect her from the world. And then she fucks me like a train and just disappears, leaving me with my pants around my ankles, wondering which day of the week it is. If I ever see her again I don’t know if I’ll scream at her, strip her naked or fall in love. Thank goodness I live in Chicago and she lives in London and we’ll never see each other again, right?