Blind Date with the Romantic Billionaire

It almost makes me laugh. Lucky Irish. It’s even worse than Noah Steel.

By the time I get back to my apartment I’ve almost succeeded in psyching myself up for a night of dirty deeds done dirt cheap with no emotion involved whatsoever. If worse comes to worst I’ll close my eyes and pretend Lucky Irish is just as beautiful as the enchanting girl in the photo.

My apartment lights turn on as soon as I walk in. Low back-lighting that gives the place a luxurious ambiance. The steel-framed glass wall that looks out over Fifth Avenue shows off the late afternoon city skyline, my spacious outdoor roof garden and the treetops of Central Park.

I bought this apartment when things began to go stratospheric for us, a few years ago now. I paid twenty-five million for it. It’s now worth forty.