s year. I also doubt the award will go to me. I'm betting on two people: Théo Galanis or Ricardo Martins. One owns a fast-growing modeling agency while the other heads th

ep back, trying to stay away from him, when a

eckline that fails to hide her sensuality. I stare at her face framed by stunning curly hair. Her expressive dark brown eyes widen in confusion as they stare back at me. Her brow furrows in disbelief and, in a second, the dark orbs transform into a well of pure anger. I ignore her sullen expression and look down at her full lips painted dark red. Rica

t year when one of the contestants got an erection in the middle of the awards hall. "Who is she?" asks Isabela. Now with her back to us, Dandara's dress has a huge back neckline, showing off her bare

spect, my love," he adds, glancing quickly at Isabela. His own girlfriend makes a gesture indicating that it doesn'

or the fact that yes, I had a wonderful woman like that in my arms, screwed up and lost her. As if to prove one of my points, Isabela str

ve Marcello Costa is here! It can only be him next to the tall, strong dark-haired man and the pretty blonde. I stare at the man in disbelief, my heart beating fast, feeling my whole body tense up. "Are you okay?" Ricardo asks softly in my ear. I force myself to smile as I turn my

t ever even thinking about Marcello Costa. My blood boils at the mere memory of what that damn guy did to me. "I think I need some water," I think out loud. Ricardo looks at me, his brow furrowed in concern. - Is everything real

s seem to have momentarily disappeared from the room. A sarcastic smile spreads across his face. - Look, cousin. We're almost the only black people in the room. I'll be right back, I'll get your water - he says, checking my face

years older than my cousin is talking animatedly with another couple. And it is just us. I sigh, resigned. Perhaps there would be many more if everyone had the same opportunities. This is the second year in a row that Ricardo has been nominated

ack tuxedo perfectly hugging every well-toned muscle on his slender body. His dark hair has gained a touch of gray at the temples and his brown eyes are still shrewd and intelligent. I do a quick mental calculation. Marcello is now over forty and, like a fine wine, age has only brought him advantages. "G

me with hatred. It was that same voice that entered my ears like honey and made me fall for his lying words. If my face had been pale, I was sure it was now red, burning li