I was a hot mess, and it was because of Lachlan Johnson, President of the All Men Are Assholes club.

Lachlan Johnson: Australian, handsome, hot accent, and a gigantic, cheating asshole, whose balls I hoped would spontaneously burst into flames. He rocked my world for two years, before disappearing without a word. Nothing, zip, not even a goodbye. He was my first boyfriend and, based on the way he treated me, I thought it would be forever. So of course his disappearance devastated me. Our meeting was so cliché. We met at my favorite bar during a night out with Josh and Ky, and he offered to buy me a drink. Then we spent the night joined at the hip. The Australian accent was the icing on the cake. From that moment on, we were inseparable, and he was the first guy I had been with since my night with Josh. He provided me with an escape from my thoughts of a future with Josh. A future that seemed destined to be one of only friendship.

He offered me the world. He said the right things, made the kind of promises every girl wanted to hear, and treated me like I was his queen. Then it exploded around me, and I was left to pick up the pieces. After coming home from a usual day at work—a day that involved texting with my supposedly loving boyfriend, I found an empty apartment, void of any evidence that he ever lived there. There was no note, no phone call, no text message . . . nothing.

There was also nothing that could have prepared me for that.

For two years, I reinvented myself. I threw myself into work and success came to me. My career as a highly-respected stylist saw me working on some of the most exclusive fashion shoots, and for some of the most high-profile magazines in the world. I was happy, satisfied, and when I wanted sex, I found it with the occasional one-night stand, since relationships were something I wasn’t strong enough for . . . yet. Of course, I still dreamed of a happily-ever-after, but I was a little more cynical these days. I was a bookworm who craved her romance novels and swooned at all the great love stories, but I was content with how things were in my life. I protected my heart fiercely, and it would take more than Prince Charming offering me a forever kind of love to make me to consider opening my heart again.

You’d think I would have learned my lesson with the fuck up known as Lachlan Johnson, but nope, not me. When he suddenly reappeared after two years, I tried my hardest to give him all the attitude in the world. I promised myself I would not go back there, and I certainly wouldn’t open myself up to him again. But I failed. Miserably. Before I knew it, I had allowed him back into my bed. He once again sold me on his bullshit, and I fell for it all.

And that brings me to now—a week of solitude and hiding the fact that I returned to my apartment instead of sunbathing, enjoying cocktails on the beach, and shopping at Sydney’s high-end boutiques.

My phone chirped with an incoming text message. I pulled it out of my pocket, and my breath hitched at the name on the screen.

Josh.

He had been texting me every day. He tried calling, but since I never answered, he stopped. I knew that if I answered, my cover would be blown because I wouldn’t be able to lie to him.

With shaking hands, I opened his latest text message and read his words.

Ashlyn, where the fuck are you? Have you suddenly forgotten about your life here? Please, message me and at least tell me you are okay. I care about you, you know. That hasn’t changed. All I need is that.

I desperately wanted to respond, but I closed the screen and put my phone on the counter, then I turned to the coffee maker. As I stared at my favorite mug while waiting for the coffee to brew, emotion started stabbing furiously in my chest, and I was thrust back to the one moment that should have been so perfect.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I bellowed as I pulled off one of my heels and threw it at his head. “I traveled twenty-six fucking hours to surprise you, but what do you know? I am the one to get the biggest surprise.”

Lachlan’s eyes widened, and he dodged the studded heel that torpedoed toward him. “Come here, Ash, we can talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?” I hissed, rolling my eyes in his direction. “While I’ve been in New York planning this trip, taking time off work, and changing my whole schedule, you’ve been putting your dick in another chick.”

He had no response, and his silence confirmed exactly what I assumed. The girl who was now struggling into her panties with just-fucked hair and flushed cheeks was the final nail in the coffin. The sight of Lachlan pounding into the brunette whose legs were wrapped around his waist would be forever etched into my memory.

I shook my head and silently begged the gods above to stop the tears that threatened to spill. I refused to cry in front of him. He didn’t deserve my tears. He didn’t deserve a thing of me.

I sucked in a breath and fought to calm my growing anxiety. “Never again, Lachlan. You will never see, touch, or speak to me again. As far I’m concerned, you no longer exist.”

How could I have been so damn stupid? I should have listened to my gut when he turned up in New York out of the blue. He broke my heart once, and here I was reliving that pain all over again. Why hadn’t I listened to the warnings? Ky tried to talk me out of this. He warned me that this was going to blow up in my face, but I didn’t listen. I was stubborn. Even Josh was unhappy, and Josh was the last person in the world who would speak about relationships and commitment.

I stood like a statue made of stone, and I couldn’t move for fear of crumbling. Lachlan chose to dismiss everything I had said, and decided that he didn’t want to stay away. With two long strides, he was standing before me, his eyes locked firmly on mine, while his hands cupped my face.

“Ash, please listen to me,” he begged, his voice rough and thick.

“Just tell me. How long?” I whispered.

His hands felt like they were burning my skin. He dropped his eyes from mine and his gaze flashed over my shoulder toward the woman he just fucked. “I didn’t think we were exclusive. I thought it was just a bit of fun while I was back in the states.”

A bit of fun! He thought I was a bit of fun! At his blatant disregard, my blood began to boil. I felt my fist clench, and the urge to knee him in the balls overcame me. So I did. He groaned and grabbed his balls the moment I stepped back. I put all of my strength into bringing him down and, by the pained expression, I knew I’d done a good job.

“You called me every fucking day and sent me texts saying how much you missed me. Do you remember telling me that you were still in love with me, or was that just your dick talking?”

He went to speak, but I’d had enough. I needed to leave. I pushed firmly on his chest until he stumbled back and fell to his knees, still clutching his balls. The brunette rushed to his side and dropped beside him.

I scoffed at the scene before me and spat my one last spray of spite. “I hope this memory sticks with you for a lifetime, because it’s the last time you’ll see me.”

The moment the truth about Lachlan came out, I fled his Bondi Beach apartment and caught a cab straight back to the airport. Within ten minutes of arriving, I had purchased a one-way ticket to New York, and then headed straight for the bar to await my flight.

The flight was obscenely long. I read three books, but I couldn’t tell you anything about the storylines. I also spent an hour talking to a lovely Italian woman, but I couldn’t recall a word she said. I was in a vortex of embarrassment, frustration, and disappointment.

When I finally stepped foot in my apartment, I allowed myself to fall apart. I didn’t want to cry for that asshole. I wanted desperately to avoid that. He deserved nothing. I locked the door behind me and turned off my phone. I wasn’t ready for the I-told-you-so looks, or the over protectiveness of Ky Crawford. I was still trying to stop the feeling of stupidity that was floating through my veins.