Eighteen Again: The CEO's Wife was a Delinquent

That Asher is really there, and Irish can't help but grimace.

He's inside her condominium unit right now. To add to that, she's handcuffed to her headboard because she thought it'd be an interesting idea. 

Woe is her life, indeed. Double woe.

All of the sudden, a shadow blocked the light from the hall – and there Asher stood in all his badass glory. He's wearing leather tonight, which definitely isn't good for this kind of situation. Yet, at that moment, all Irish can do is try to calm her erratically beating heart.

"Well, well, well. Look what the big bad cat dragged in," she attempted to sass him while he spread a smug smirk and leaned against the doorframe. 

She could not and would not let him have the upper hand here. Currently, though, she only has one hand per se.

"This big bad cat is here to save your backside," he sassed back, greatly amused.

She would've retorted if she hadn't caught sight of what Charles was doing. He has taken out his cellphone and pointed its camera lens in her direction. 

"Are you filming me?!" Irish shouted in exasperation, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"I'm sorry. Your sister wanted evidence that you did this. She said it's been a while since we've had a good old Irish catastrophe," Charles reasoned politely. 

From the side, Asher laughed at how comically ironic that tone was to what Charles was doing. 

Huffing, she just rolled her eyes. She was about to cross her arms too, but she remembered the situation she was in. So, she immediately stopped before she could make an even bigger fool of herself.

"Can someone get the key please?" Irish groaned.

"Where is it?" Charles asked.

"On my coffee table."

He stalked off in search of the object of desire. Meanwhile, Asher moved to perch on the edge of the bed next to his own object of desire.

"Go ahead, bastard..." she spat at him with an unamused scowl. 

"Laugh it up. Make a joke. Do whatever that pretty little head of yours is thinking."

"I'm not sure if you'd want to hear what's going on in here…" he quipped meaningfully, tapping his head before giving her a wink which caused her to roll her eyes.

"But it's nice to know that you think I'm pretty." 

"Ha! Look who's talking. Did that flirting not work with your date?" 

Her voice came out snappy - a lot snappier than she wanted it to, especially considering she didn't want to snap at all. What he does is supposed to be nothing to her. She shouldn't be so caught up with it.

Asher looked her over. His gaze made Irish cower back. 

She felt like fresh meat on display at a farmer's market. When she caught his eyes, she ended up in a staring contest with him. Then, they suddenly started challenging each other in a battle of looks, unknowing to who was going to speak first.

"I've got the… Woah! The tension in here! Phew!" 

Charles came back then, waving his hands around. Irish noticed the metal key hanging from his finger.

"Pass me the key, Charles-" 

She was cut off when Asher held a hand out towards him. Irish opened her mouth, all ready to protest. 

There was no way her freedom would be in this man's hands.

"Charles, no!" Irish protested - only for Asher to take a hand and cover her mouth.

"Charles, yes."

She continued to mumble something while Charles looked between the two. Aggravated, she went and licked the palm of his hand, causing him to pull it back to his lap.

"H-Hey! Did you… Did you just lick me?!" Asher exclaimed in nonplus before smirking back at Irish and wiping his hand on her bed covers.

"Okay. I'm not getting involved in this," Charles deadpanned, tossing the key to them.

Both of them hastily dive for it. Asher was the one to grab it first. With a triumphant whistle, he bounced off the bed - away from Irish.

Then, the front door slammed. Charles had straight up left. 

When Asher showed a shit-eating grin, she knew at that moment she was stuck. Irish is trapped there until he decides to let her go. 

And, for some reason, she knew it would come with a consequence.

---

Seeing Irish handcuffed to the headboard did many crazy things to Asher's body – it's absolutely insane. 

But that wasn't what he wanted out of this night. This was his chance. Finally, he had an opportunity to talk to her without her running away - to discuss what they were, and what they possibly could be. 

Ashe had to know where he stood with Irish.

"Now, princess, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," he taunted with a smirk, swinging the key in between his fingers.

"Please, not tonight," she sighed, rolling her eyes for the nth time that hour.

"Not tonight? Then, when? It's been weeks since you started avoiding me. I need to know why."

"What do you need to know? If I can be another notch on your bedpost?"

Now, that hurts.

But he kept himself from wincing. She's partly at fault here, anyway – she's the reason why he's being like this, in the first place. 

"I haven't done anything apart from go out on dates because I'm trying to figure things out with you. So, we can either sit and discuss it like adults or I'm taking that handcuff off your bed and attaching myself to you until you grow up," Asher snapped.

"Grow up?! You're seriously telling me to grow up?!" Irish snapped back.

"Who's the one stuck on their bed, princess?"

She turned her head away from him. He moved and scooted closer.

"So, tell me, are we doing this the easy way or the hard way…?" he continued. 

"I'm not playing. Worst will come to worst. It even already came to this." 

He placed the key into the lock of the handcuff attached to the headboard. Then, he unlocked it, releasing her arm from above her head.

"I don't hate you anymore, Asher. So, it would never get worse." 

Her eyes widened in surprise at the words that came out of her mouth. She then slammed her free hand to it while a grin spread across his face.

"Now, we're getting somewhere…" Asher commented. 

"How exactly do you see me now, then? Does that mean you've come to like me?"

"Ughhh…" Irish groaned.

"Aren't you going to undo my side first?"

"Nope. Call it collateral."

She growled at him as he began to mess with the handcuff. Soon, he places it around his own wrist.

"This suits me quite better. Don't you think?" 

His grin only riled Irish up more. Asher could tell it just from the fierce flush in her cheeks and the anger radiating in her eyes. 

'Oh man, was I in trouble.' 

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