Going to Paris on Christmas Eve was a completely spontaneous decision. I just wanted to get away from home and spend the holidays all alone. Yes, that's how it is sometimes. At the age of thirty, you come to realize that your life isn't worth a dime. I never imagined that on the first night in a foreign country, I would meet a mysterious and incredibly sexy man. What kind of surprise did fate give me this time? Why do I have this feeling that it was in Paris that I would be happy?