Apparently trillionaires are much nicer than billionaires, no whips, no chains, no disdain. At least some trillionaires are nicer; Jeff, who beat out the rest of the 1% of the 1% to become the first trillionaire, is a sweetheart with a sense of humor, his outrageously perfect body almost bursting through his t-shirt says, “Trust Me I’m an Investment Banker.”
On walking across the foyer to a private elevator that whisks him to his rooftop penthouse Jeff hears banging coming from the incinerator room on the first floor. When he goes to investigate he discovers Claudia, the denizen of a studio apartment handily next to the incinerator room, slamming the incinerator door over and over again with great force. She is desperately trying to get rid of a dildo (that she wished she hadn’t bought and never even used) by tossing it down the incinerator chute but instead of falling and burning in hell fire it is now stuck no matter how hard she tries to pry it loose. Jeff is immediately captivated by her unruly russet curls and the zaniness of her dilemma, from that moment on he pursues her relentlessly.
Only one problem, Claudia, deeply traumatized when both of her parents died in a car accident vowed, perhaps a little unrealistically, to never love another person as long as she lived. But Jeff is an alpha male and doesn’t take no for an answer.