Love Her Wilde

Dart to the Heart: Asher

"Well. Are you coming?"

Bridget's voice brought me out of my daze, and I looked up at her face. Her question wasn't really a question. It never was. It was a thinly disguised command. Just like every request her, or my father, or any other senior member of the firm made. I didn't really have a choice. Ever. And if I did have the gall to believe what I wanted truly made a difference, there would be definite consequences. But in that moment, I didn't care.

"No."

Bridget froze in place as one of the hosts helped her with her jacket. "Excuse me?"

"No, Bridge. I'm not going out with you and Carmen and the girls and whatever country club idiots they've picked up this week," I stated, my voice wavering ever so slightly. Grow some fucking balls, Wilde. "I'm not going out with you and your friends. I'm going to Mason's."

"Are you seriously doing this right now?" Bridget practically hissed under her breath. It was evident by the way her eyes flitted around the dining room, that she was more worried about what on-lookers thought than my feelings. But then, I should've probably been used to that.

"I'm not doing anything but sticking with my plans."

"You are embarrassing me, Asher Wilde."

"I'm not doing anything other than standing my ground, Bridge. I'm sorry if you find that embarrassing."

Bridget's eyes narrowed and her jaw went tight. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought she was about to explode. "You know what? Fine," she spat out. "Have fun with your little friends, at their little wedding, with that little hussy you don't even know. You better spend your vacation thinking about the life you really want, Asher Wilde. Whether or not those friendships are worth risking EVERYTHING we've worked for."

I sighed and stood. "Darling, don't you think you're being a bit..."

"Don't. You have two weeks, Asher. Don't call me until you've figured out that they're not worth all of this."

"Bridget..."

"Goodbye, Asher."

Without another word, she stomped off on her towering heels and right out the front door of the restaurant. On another day, I probably would've followed her. I probably would've cared about the eyes and the whispers I could already hear around me, but... that day was not today. I grabbed my suit jacket from the back of my chair, laid a wad of cash on the table and headed out. I knew eventually I would at the very least have to answer to my father, but for now, I had a game of darts to play and more beer to drink than could be considered proper.

"GET OFF ME!"

I heard the shout the second I stepped out of my Mercedes on the other side of the street. From where I stood, I could see a woman and a man just under the awning of Mason's bar. He was trying to get her to follow him inside, and she was making it quite clear she wasn't interested in doing so.

"Stop being dramatic..."

"Brock, you're not even supposed to be here!" the girl exclaimed. "We broke up!"

"You're being stupid, Pickle. Let's go."

"Stop fucking calling me that!" she shouted. "Go home to your girlfriend!"

Even from across the street, I could see the stunning features on her face. She had jet black hair, partially hidden under the grey beanie guarding her from the Chicago winter. I could tell by her voice that she'd obviously grown up here. I'd spent years ridding myself of the same Chicago accent. I started to move closer as the douche continued trying to paw at her. Something about this interaction was making me uncomfortable, even though I didn't know either party involved. The woman was making it crystal clear that she wasn't interested in his companionship at the moment, but the blockhead of a guy couldn't seem to take a hint. That or he just didn't care. Either way, I wasn't comfortable with it or this idiot's game of grab-ass.