As soon as I had the opportunity to leave New York and live in London for three months, I packed my suitcase at breakneck speed. As soon as I landed, I was literally obsessed with red phone booths, palaces and black taxis. But my favorite place is - this is a tube (subway). Or rather, it’s wall-to-wall hot British men in suits. When I’m offered a temporary job as a barrister’s assistant, I immediately accept. And on the very first day on the way to work, something bad happens to me, I lose my balance and fall on the most handsome real British. He is charming, like James Bond, gallant, like Mr. Darcy. I want to lick the tea off his rock hard abs and listen to his accent all night long. Turns out Mr. Handsome is my new boss. And his work ethic is not as hot as his beautiful face, broad shoulders and narrow ass. He is thoughtful, hot-tempered and the most arrogant person I have ever met. And during another skirmish, he unexpectedly kisses me. And I'm sure at that moment I saw fireworks over Big Ben and heard "God save the Queen." I wasn't looking for a fairy tale, but I may have found my knight in shining armor. The problem is that he lives overseas.