Such A Disturbance
I stepped out of the hospital, pulling my coat tighter around me as the cool evening breeze brushed against my skin. It had been another long day. I was ready to go home, pour myself a glass of wine, and maybe soak in a bath for a few minutes of peace. But as soon as I pushed through the glass doors, I spotted him.
Asher Carmichael, leaning casually against his sleek, black car, wearing those damn sunglasses, even though the sun had already set. He looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine—broad shoulders, a tight black T-shirt that clung to his muscular chest, and jeans that fit him just right. His arms, tanned and rippling with muscle, were crossed over his chest, and a playful smirk tugged at his lips.
Phew.
I rolled my eyes as I approached him, pulling my bag higher onto my shoulder. "How many times have I told you to stop coming to my work, Asher?"
He pushed himself off the car, walking toward me with that swagger he always had, sunglasses still on as if he were some sort of action hero. "I like seeing you in your scrubs, Rem. Makes you look... responsible."
I scoffed, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened just a little. "Yeah, because you’re the poster child of responsibility."
He chuckled, that deep, rich sound that always seemed to make the air a little heavier around us. "Ouch. I’m wounded."
"You’ll survive."
He opened the passenger door of his car, clearly expecting me to hop in. I glanced at him, shaking my head. "No. I’m not going with you."
"Come on, it’s for a good cause," he said, leaning against the door, his smirk never fading. "A charity event, lots of important people... It’ll be fun."
"I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that you happen to be attending with the most eligible socialites of the city, right?" I crossed my arms. "You just want to increase those rumors. You know, the ones about us."
He raised an eyebrow, finally taking off his sunglasses. His brown eyes sparkled with mischief, and something else I couldn’t quite place. "And what rumors would those be?"
I huffed, shaking my head. "That we’re involved."
"Maybe we should be," he teased, stepping closer.
I rolled my eyes. "Asher, I have kids. I can’t just—"
"And they adore me." He cut me off, grinning. "Face it, Remi, I’m the fun uncle they never had."
"Yeah, 'fun uncle' who's in the mafia," I muttered under my breath.
"Allegedly," he corrected, his grin widening. "And for the record, I prefer 'businessman with unconventional methods.'"
I shot him a look. "Do people actually believe that?"
"They believe what I tell them to," he shrugged, then turned back to his car. "But that’s beside the point. You coming or not?"
"Asher..." I sighed. "I can’t. I just finished a twelve-hour shift, and I want to go home."
"Which is exactly why you should come out. Have some fun. Unwind." He flashed me that charming grin again, the one that used to work on me when we first met.
It had been years ago, back when I was still in medical school. I had stumbled into a situation—let's call it "unfortunate," where I unknowingly treated one of his men. When I found out who Asher really was, I’d panicked. I thought my life was over, that I was going to be caught up in something dangerous. And I was. But Asher... He was different from the others. He was calm, funny even. He made sure I was protected, and over time, a weird sort of friendship formed. He became someone I could trust, even if he lived in a world I couldn’t fully understand.
Still, showing up at my work like this? Showing up, looking like that? It was a problem.
"You know," he continued, "there’s no rule saying you can’t have a life outside of the hospital."
"I have kids, Asher," I reminded him for the hundredth time. "That’s my life."
"And they’ll be fine for a few hours. It’s not like they don’t have a sitter."
"Are you trying to guilt-trip me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Is it working?"
"No." But I smiled despite myself.
He stepped closer again, and I could smell his cologne—warm, spicy, and expensive. "Look, it’s just a few hours. I’ll even make sure to keep my hands to myself," he teased, raising his palms as if to prove his innocence.
"Sure, and I’m supposed to believe that?" I shot back, crossing my arms tighter. "The last time I went anywhere with you, people started assuming we were together."
He shrugged, completely unfazed. "So? Let them talk."
I sighed again, rubbing my forehead. "Asher, you know I can’t be seen with you like that. Not with all those rumors. The last thing I need is for people to start thinking I’m... involved."
"Involved with a mafia lord?" he said with a grin, clearly enjoying this too much. "You’re overthinking it, Rem. Let people say whatever they want. You know the truth. I know the truth. That’s all that matters."
"It’s not that simple."
"Why not?" He tilted his head, his eyes softening for a moment. "You care too much about what other people think."
"Maybe because it affects me," I said, my voice a little sharper than I intended. "I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t have my name tied to yours in every tabloid."
He sighed dramatically, running a hand through his sandy hair. "Fine. Be boring. Go home, eat your microwave dinner, and stare at the ceiling."
I shook my head, laughing despite myself. "I’ll have you know, I don’t eat microwave dinners."
"Sure you don’t," he winked, opening the car door wider, still hoping I’d step in.
"Besides," I added, "even if I did come with you, I’d just be adding fuel to the fire."
"That’s the fun part," he said, grinning mischievously. "People love a good scandal."
I groaned, leaning against the door frame. "You’re impossible."
He opened his mouth to respond, but I cut him off when my phone rang. Glancing down, I saw the name of the twins' school flashing on the screen.
"Hold that thought," I muttered, stepping away to answer.
"Hello, Ms. Laurent?" The voice on the other end was familiar—it was Mrs. Greene, one of the teachers. My heart immediately sank.
"Yes, this is Remi. Is everything okay?"
"There’s been a little incident with Larry," she began, and I could already tell where this was going.
"What happened?"
"He got into a fight with another student. Nothing too serious, but I think it’s best if you come down to the school."
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I’ll be right there."
Hanging up, I turned to find Asher watching me, eyebrow raised.
"Don’t even ask," I said, shaking my head.
"What, did the kids get into trouble again?" He chuckled.
"Something like that," I muttered, already heading toward my car.
"Need a ride?" he called after me, but I waved him off.
"No thanks. I’ve got it under control."
"Sure you do," he said with a wink. "But just remember—you owe me that charity event."
I shot him one last glare before sliding into my car. As I pulled away, I could still see him standing there in my rearview mirror, that cocky grin never fading.
This wasn’t over, and we both knew it. But for now, my focus was on getting to the school and making sure my kids were okay.
Asher could wait.
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