My first mistake? Causing the h-o-t Frenchman a concussion. My second? Telling the hospital staff that I was his girlfriend. In my defense, he didn’t speak English. My third? Taking him home and letting him sleep in my bed. I never said I was Florence Nightingale.

He gave me a night I’ll never forget, but when I wake, he’s already gone. I tell myself it’s his loss, that I wasn’t expecting him to stay forever anyway, and my life moves on. I get a new job. A fresh start in a new country, and I stop counting my mistakes. Until those striking green eyes meet mine across the office, and it all comes rushing back.

But he’s not that man anymore. Gone are his jeans and his playful attitude. Rich and powerful, he’s now sin in a suit. And his English is perfect. Were his kisses also lies? His caresses meaningless? I feel like such a fool - I want to wrap my hands around his neck. Though not to hug him, because the man is a force of nature. A master manipulator. He’s also my new boss. And I already hate him.

The biggest lies are the ones we tell ourselves.