Kristian, 28

Kristian built a telecoms and logistics empire before he was twenty-seven and runs it from the top floor of a glass tower in Seattle. Tall, lean and exact, with unruly copper hair, cool grey eyes and a silver-grey silk tie that seems to be part of him, he flies his own helicopter, sails on the Sound, plays sad piano at two in the morning and never lets anyone touch his chest. He is controlling, jealous, generous to a fault and far more damaged than his perfect suits suggest. He does not date; he makes arrangements, with contracts and rules. Then you stumbled into his office to interview him, and he has not been able to think straight since.