Love Her Wilde

Shout at the Devil: Asher

I walked into the office the next day like I was walking toward a guillotine. I was attempting to muster the usual confidence and swagger I strode through this lobby with, but it was definitely more of a battle than any other day. Instead, I felt more like a scared child, waiting on pins and needles to be dealt a punishment, and if I knew my father, that's exactly what would happen when I entered his office.

I was certain Bridget had already spoken to him. I had given her a full twenty-four hours to do so, which in retrospect, probably wasn't my greatest idea, but I had been more worried about smoothing things over with Dylan than dealing with either of them.

My phone chirped as I got onto the elevator, and I instantly grew even more uneasy. Bridget had been texting me almost incessantly since I'd ended things. The messages spanned the entire gamut of emotion: denial, begging me to reconsider, pleading, rage, and then all-out threats. But... that was Bridget. She was as dramatic as she was beautiful unfortunately.

Stepping into the elevator, I opened my phone. I'd long ago learned to set my notifications to nothing but "text," thanks to my insane ex, so when I opened my messages, my eyes were greeted with a pleasant, Dylan-flavored surprise.

"Thinking about you. Remember: you're allowed to be happy, no matter what anyone says. YOU control your life, Asher. Can't wait for tonight, XX."

I smiled. She wrote texts as if they were a love letter, and I was absolutely enamored by it. That simple text, those few words, made me feel that no matter how today turned out, I would be absolutely fine, and I honestly believed it. If he fired me, I had enough money set aside to take my time finding the perfect new job. If he cut me off, so be it. I wasn't particularly interested in the money that ruined my family anyway. And even if I became destitute, if I had to move out of my swanky penthouse, sell my Lexus and all the designer suits in my closet, it didn't matter. I had her.

We'd figure it out.

Together.

I grinned as I quickly tapped out a response: "You have impeccable timing. I'm on the elevator, wondering if I should just pull a disappearing act."

Her response was swift and quick: "Not allowed. You need to do this. For you. I know it will be hard, but I promise I'll make you feel better later 😉"

"You always do. Why are you awake? It's only 7."

"I knew I'd need to talk you off a ledge 😉"

I laughed out loud. "Know me too well already."

"Can't wait to figure out the rest. Text me after?"

"Of course."

She then sent a string of kiss emojis and heart eyes and I could only laugh. I stuffed my phone back into my pocket as the elevator binged its arrival. It was still early. I wasn't even entirely sure my father would be in the office yet. His 'workday' didn't usually begin until nine am. Then again, his workday was mostly schmoozing the clients I had already landed and golfing with every rich, old white man in Chicago, which I knew was on his schedule for eleven, so our talk would have to happen fast.

I'd come in early to pack up my office, just in case. There wasn't much that made my office personal, really, but there were a few things I didn't want to chance leaving behind. Plus, I had half a mind to smuggle some of my clients' information out with me, just in case things got really hairy.

However, the second the elevator doors opened, every plan in my head evaporated when I spotted Bridget standing before me in nothing more than a spiderweb of lingerie.