Ross thought the porty was going to last forever. He certainly didn't believe the current economic blahdy blah was going to affect people like him. But as he watched the shutters fall, one by one, on all his old haunts - Renards, Mint, Guess Meanswear - he was forced to question all the truths that he once held as sacred.
Sorcha's boutique was bleeding him dry, the Deportment of Social Welfare had stuck two yahoos in the penthouse next door, while Oisinn - his business empire in ruins - hadn'...