I come from old money and I was expected to marry old money... someone with family connections that would further our own. I never dated anyone with a net worth less than nine figures and more was definitely better. They had to be the whole package, though. No ugly ducks allowed. I have standards—handsome, an American Express Centurion card in his wallet, a Bugatti or better in the garage of his multi-million-dollar mansion. Peons need not apply. Then I walked into a New Orleans coffee shop and met Johnny Terrabonne and my whole world spun on its axis.
I haven't dated anyone since I lost my wife ten years ago. Even if I did, I don't date rich chicks—ever. And I definitely don't date them when they're barely old enough to be out from under mommy and daddy's wings. So I don't know what came over me the day she walked in. Katie Bruce, as in Bruce Yachts, Bruce Oil, Bruce Golf. Everyone with half a brain knows who they are. I told myself to keep my distance but all it took was a glance from those lapis lazuli blue eyes and a smile from that perfect pink cupid's bow and I was down for the count. The only problem? Her daddy has the power to make me disappear—forever. Am I crazy to consider it?