At the presidential suite in Emiliano Hotel, São Paulo, Bethany McAdams turned off the TV with a scream of outrage and climbed out of bed.
“Look at that,” she spat with disgust.
“I’m looking,” the man said, giving her a once-over, eyes glinting wickedly.
Bethany whipped around, pointing her perfectly manicured nail at him. She’d paid four-hundred reais and change for the manicure that morning. “You don’t make fun of me, you arse.”
The man’s heated gaze roamed over her. “I’m not. Come on over here and I’ll show you how serious I am.”
She gave him a disgusted look. “Can you take your head out of the gutter for a few minutes?” She pointed at the slightly out-of-date TV. “They’re not supposed to get back together!”
“How do you know they are?”
Bethany hissed. “Didn’t you just hear the ne
