Eighteen Again: The CEO's Wife was a Delinquent

Asher never expected that he'd end up seeing Irish this way.

It all started when they talked the other night. He didn't see it coming - that good side she showed him. Since then, he unconsciously began wanting to know her more.

Perhaps, it's because they have a few similarities now.

But then, suddenly, there was a wall, and Asher wished he had the sledgehammer to knock it down. Irish is avoiding him these days for some reason, which he gets to notice more and more whenever they see each other. 

"Can you just get Charles to swing by my place on his way from dropping you wherever it is you're going?" Irish asked, sounding a little desperate. 

"Hey, what's wrong? It's unlike you to plead this much. You got a thing on him or what?" Asher teased mirthlessly.

He heard a huff and a puff from the other side of the phone. It seemed like some kind of a struggle. Now, he is getting more curious. 

"Fine..." she said at last.

"I've got myself into some predicament." 

"What...?" he breathed, concerned. 

"If someone hurt you, I swear to God-"

"No. Honestly, I'm fine."

He heard Irish let out a sigh. But Asher decided to keep quiet, hoping she filled him in on the issue.

"Okay, the thing is, I've kind of handcuffed myself to the headboard of my bed."

Now, that's something he wasn't expecting.

He stills for a moment, unsure of what to say. She stays silent as well, waiting for him to speak. 

"Excuse me? What?" Asher then eventually blurted out, much to Irish's chagrin. 

"You heard me. It's embarrassing enough that Charles is going to see it. Let alone you knowing about it too."

"Why don't you get one of the others to help you out?"

"Did you forget what night it was?"

He scrunched his nose up to think. It was Friday - he knew that much.

"You did, didn't you...?" Irish chuckled. 

"They're all in their own little worlds at the moment. My brothers and sisters aren't available. Neither are my friends. So, I've been stuck here for hours."

Asher couldn't help but burst out laughing. Irish only sighed once more, a little aggravated. 

"Alright. Fine. I'll get Charlie to come by yours after he's dropped me home then."

"Not going to another woman's?"

"Only if it's your place."

He wanted to kick himself right then. He shouldn't have said that. 

They're bantering, and now, he's gone and said that.

"Where are you at the moment?" she asked.

"A local café. Why?" he asked back, face still wincing.

"Get me a slice of cookie and cream cheesecake. Then, I'll think about letting you in."

Her voice was a tone he has never heard before. It sent a shiver down his spine.

"If that's the deal, then sure. We'll be with you soon."

"Sure."

With that, Asher ended the call and headed to the counter, hoping that they still had some cookie and cream cheesecake left.

---

Irish knows she's getting better and better at making smart decisions these days.

She can use anything to get out of situations that put her in a pickle. It showed during their fight against Grisham and Dylan. Now, though, she couldn't believe that she would end up handcuffed to her headboard of all things - and with no means to escape at that.

Irish had arrived home from her friend's bachelorette party earlier that morning and had spent a good portion of it trying to relieve the banging headache she'd brought home as a souvenir. She would like to say it was a free gift, but her bank account from the night before disagreed. As part of the fun, each one of them had received a gift bag linked to some of her friend's favorite items - and there they were, staring at her in all their pink, fluffy glory.

A pair of imitation handcuffs.

After playing with them in her lounge for a while, she decided she wanted to be a little experimental. Thus, she went to find something to handcuff herself to, and the easiest option seemed to be her headboard. 

Irish didn't do it for any other means than experimentation, of course. 

There was no other reason she would need to test this out. She hadn't had a boyfriend for a long while, and as far as everyone was concerned, she had declared herself a spinster. 

Anyhow, this is how Irish ended up having to phone Olivia to come and help.

Unfortunately, after the laughter had died down, her twin sister mentioned that she had been called by Edward to look after Hugo and Joshua tonight again, meaning she would need to call someone else. Her first thought was Cassidy and Adrien. But then, she had a strong feeling that they're too busy smooching and cuddling and flirting these days.

Then, there's Asher. He has been nice to her lately, but this is far too embarrassing for that. So, her next thought is Charles, but he isn't answering his phone.

"Hey, sis, I forgot. He agreed to pick someone up," was what Olivia told her.

"A pickup? Who?" was what Irish replied to her.

"Oh, I think you know who. Have fun~"

She tried to call Charles again, hoping she could persuade him to drop Asher home and then come and help her. However, after six failed attempts, there was only one thing left to do – and that was to call the devil himself.

Another hour went past after she had called Asher. Then, finally, Irish heard voices outside her door. 

"I hope you've got clothes on, Ma'am Irish. We're coming in," Charles called out.

"We're?" Irish murmured to herself, dumbfounded. 

There's no way that café still got cheesecake remaining this time of night. She thought it's a sure thing that Asher wouldn't be turning up alongside Charles.

Woe is her life.

She heard the key in the door, and the handle clicked. Luckily, her condominium unit was the size of a small child's shoebox – she already had enough of huge, expensive ones. She could shout to them from where she was.

"I'm in the bedroom! Fully clothed!" she called back after hearing the door slam closed.

"Oh? That's a shame." 

That deep, husky voice reaching Irish's ears was like velvety chocolate - delectable but a no-good for her. 

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