Trading My Fiancé for His Enemy - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Derek's blood boiled when he spotted Ethan by my side.
"Sheila, you've got to be joking." His voice dripped with disbelief. After five years of me worshipping the ground he walked on, this was his reaction?
Back then, I'd rearranged my entire universe around him - his moods dictated mine, his preferences overruled mine. Our whole social circle knew I was hopelessly devoted. Some even joked that if Derek knocked up his side piece, I'd volunteer to babysit.
"Joking? Ethan and I are officially together now."
Derek scoffed. "Wake up, Sheila. A womanizer like him just wants another notch on his bedpost."
I arched an eyebrow at Ethan. "He says you're using me."
Ethan's trademark smirk appeared. "What if I want to use you... forever?"
"Enough!" Derek's face turned crimson. "This pathetic act with Ethan won't make me jealous. Drop the theatrics!"
His arrogance almost made me laugh out loud.
Rebecca, ever the instigator, slithered closer. "Don't be angry, Derek. Sheila didn't mean to hurt you." Her saccharine tone made my teeth ache.
"Mark my words, Sheila - when this blows up in your face, don't come crawling back." Derek stormed off, dragging Rebecca to their adjoining honeymoon suite.
The hypocrisy was rich - he could publicly shack up with his mistress, but expected me to beg for forgiveness?
"Four years wasted on that clown?" Ethan's gaze held equal parts pity and disgust.
I sighed. "Guess I needed stronger prescription glasses."
"Shame," he murmured, tracing my cheekbone. "Such pretty eyes wasted on bad taste."
Suddenly I found myself pinned against the door, Ethan's muscular frame caging me in. His usual playful expression held an unfamiliar vulnerability.
When I tried to look away, his fingers gently redirected my face.
"Sheila..." His voice roughened. "You're really done with him?"
Instead of answering, I grabbed his face and kissed him with five years' worth of pent-up passion.
"Don't worry," I gasped between kisses. "I won't trap you into commitment."
Ethan chuckled darkly, guiding my hand down his sculpted torso. "Sweetheart, I'm counting on you to take responsibility."
His rock-hard abs burned under my fingertips, sending heat flooding my cheeks. God help me, I was already addicted to his magnetism.
When I didn't pull away, Ethan claimed my mouth with possessive intensity. We only broke apart when oxygen became necessary.
His next words shocked me - the eternal playboy actually sounded nervous. "Back then... I was an idiot who didn't know how to get your attention without being an asshole."
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I teased, "Well, consider me thoroughly distracted now."
Ethan's breathing hitched. "Not good enough." In one fluid motion, he scooped me up bridal-style. "I need to try harder."
Later, tangled in the thousand-thread-count sheets, Ethan nipped at my ear. "Be mine, trouble." Our fingers laced together like puzzle pieces finally connecting.
Meanwhile, Derek was unraveling next door. Despite Rebecca's best efforts - her coquettish touches, her practiced kisses - he might as well have been hugging a mannequin.
Three excruciating hours passed without a single call or text from me. For the first time, the golden boy tasted insecurity. Even with Rebecca draped over him, all he could see was my flushed face whenever he'd deigned to kiss me.
He hated how I'd memorized his coffee order. Hated how I'd light up at his rare compliments. Hated most of all that he couldn't stop picturing me in Ethan's arms.
By midnight, Derek abandoned Rebecca on the balcony, chain-smoking like a film noir detective. Finally, he cracked - only to discover I'd blocked his number. His shattered phone became collateral damage against the wall.
The last thing we heard was deranged pounding on our door, Derek's voice raw with something suspiciously like heartbreak.