Trading My Fiancé for His Enemy - Chapter 2: Chapter 2
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Thank God for quick reflexes—I slammed the elevator shut right before Derek could reach us.
The look on his face as the doors closed? Priceless. His furious roar still reached us moments later, making Ethan and me burst into laughter. Just picturing Derek's red-faced tantrum gave me the sweetest satisfaction.
Ethan grinned, pinching my cheek. "That smug look suits you. Wait till you see what else I've got planned." My face burned instantly. This man had absolutely no shame.
When we reached the presidential suite, panic set in. My heart raced so fast I could barely breathe.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Never stayed in a hotel with a man before?"
I shot back, "Do you make a habit of it, Mr. Garcia?"
Let's be real—Ethan's reputation as a playboy wasn't exactly a secret. With that face and charm, women probably threw themselves at him. How many had fallen for that smirk? The thought made me sigh.
"Jealous?" he teased.
Before I could answer, he had me pinned against the wall, lips dangerously close. And damn it, I was completely under his spell. My pulse went wild, my knees gave out, and suddenly I was melting into his arms.
"Ethan," I whispered, "do I seem like an easy target to you?"
His expression turned serious. "Sheila, from now on, you're the one who gets to mess with people. Anyone who tries you? They'll regret it."
The intensity in his eyes caught me off guard, tightening my throat. "Then don't bully me, okay?"
"Fine," he relented, pulling away. "I'll behave. Going to shower."
The second the bathroom door closed, I exhaled hard. Staring out at the city lights, I realized I had nowhere left to run—until pounding fists nearly took the door off its hinges.
Derek stood there, looking nothing like his usual polished self. Pure rage twisted his features.
"Sheila," he spat, "you couldn't even wait a day before shacking up with someone else?"
I was done taking his blame. "We're both here, Derek. Maybe ask yourself who's really at fault."
"Apologize now," he demanded, "and I might still let our wedding happen tomorrow."
Seriously? The audacity. "You think I want that?"
Just then, the bathroom door opened. Ethan stepped out, towel slung low—and definitely not looking casual anymore.
The look on his face as the doors closed? Priceless. His furious roar still reached us moments later, making Ethan and me burst into laughter. Just picturing Derek's red-faced tantrum gave me the sweetest satisfaction.
Ethan grinned, pinching my cheek. "That smug look suits you. Wait till you see what else I've got planned." My face burned instantly. This man had absolutely no shame.
When we reached the presidential suite, panic set in. My heart raced so fast I could barely breathe.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Never stayed in a hotel with a man before?"
I shot back, "Do you make a habit of it, Mr. Garcia?"
Let's be real—Ethan's reputation as a playboy wasn't exactly a secret. With that face and charm, women probably threw themselves at him. How many had fallen for that smirk? The thought made me sigh.
"Jealous?" he teased.
Before I could answer, he had me pinned against the wall, lips dangerously close. And damn it, I was completely under his spell. My pulse went wild, my knees gave out, and suddenly I was melting into his arms.
"Ethan," I whispered, "do I seem like an easy target to you?"
His expression turned serious. "Sheila, from now on, you're the one who gets to mess with people. Anyone who tries you? They'll regret it."
The intensity in his eyes caught me off guard, tightening my throat. "Then don't bully me, okay?"
"Fine," he relented, pulling away. "I'll behave. Going to shower."
The second the bathroom door closed, I exhaled hard. Staring out at the city lights, I realized I had nowhere left to run—until pounding fists nearly took the door off its hinges.
Derek stood there, looking nothing like his usual polished self. Pure rage twisted his features.
"Sheila," he spat, "you couldn't even wait a day before shacking up with someone else?"
I was done taking his blame. "We're both here, Derek. Maybe ask yourself who's really at fault."
"Apologize now," he demanded, "and I might still let our wedding happen tomorrow."
Seriously? The audacity. "You think I want that?"
Just then, the bathroom door opened. Ethan stepped out, towel slung low—and definitely not looking casual anymore.
End of Trading My Fiancé for His Enemy Chapter 2. Continue reading Chapter 3 or return to Trading My Fiancé for His Enemy book page.