Free His Absolute Arrangement: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #1) by Cerys du Lys Page B

one.  It's got Gruyere and blue cheese and caramelized onions and garlic aioli.  And arugula!"
    "What the hell kind of burger is that?" he asked, grinning and holding the bag at arm's length.  He stared at it as if it might grow legs and attack him.  "Arugula?  Is that some kind of spider?" he teased.
    "Shut up," I said.  "Can you help me here?  I have a lot of stuff."
    "You have a laptop bag, a purse, and a burger," he said.  "That's not a lot of stuff."
    "Wow," I said.  "Just wow."
    "I'll carry your burger," he offered.
    "No, you're just going to eat it."
    "Well, technically it's mine, so yeah, I was going to eat it."
    "You're going to eat mine and yours while I hopelessly struggle to carry everything inside."
    "You aren't living out the plot of some French Revolution historical story, you know?  You aren't oppressed."
    "Can you just carry my purse?  I can get the rest."
    "I'm not carrying your purse," he said.  Sneaking past me, he snatched the strap of my laptop bag and hefted it out of the car.  "I'll carry this, alright?"
    "I don't see why you won't carry my purse," I said.  "We're in the garage.  It's not like anyone can see you."
    "I'm almost positive," he said, pausing.  "I am definitely almost positive that your purse somehow weighs more than your laptop bag.  Don't ask me how, because it's about a quarter of the size, but I'm sure that's how it is."
    I rolled my eyes at him, grabbed my purse, and slammed the car door shut, then stomped to the garage entrance of the guest house.
    "Whoa there, Ms. Thang.  Calm yourself.  That's an expensive car."
    "I'll tell Asher you did it," I said, grinning and feigning haughtiness.  "We always sit in the back seat, remember?"
    "Harsh," Jeremy said, sweeping by to open the house door for me.  "I'll remember that.  I won't bring you for burgers next time.  We're going to go get escargot and quail eggs instead."
    I laughed and he laughed and we went inside.  We grabbed plates and forks and knives from the cupboards and drawers and set up our meal.  I fell onto the plush, cushioned couch, burger plate in hand, and stared at the fireplace in front of me.  Jeremy fetched the remote for the ceiling projector.
    It was a little fancy.  Alright, so, it was a lot of fancy.  I didn't suppose that many people had a projector screen, projector, and fireplace in their homes.  Not to mention an entire part of the wall was made of thick glass.  It had a really nice view, though, overlooking part of the city and part of the countryside on the outskirts.  Which... probably made it more fancy, all things considered, but it was casual and relaxed enough that it helped me forget about all those things.
    Jeremy plopped onto the couch next to me, remote in hand, wielding it like some knight's sword.  "What do you want to watch?" he asked.
    "I don't know," I said.  "Surprise me."
    "Bold choice, madame.  A bold choice, indeed."
    ***
    W hen Asher returned to his office, the door was locked and Jessika was gone.  He checked his phone and noticed she'd sent him a text message letting him know Jeremy had picked her up and she'd be waiting at home for him.  That was fine.  He understood.  Today wasn't the best of days and if she wanted to retreat to their home for awhile in order to recoup and relax, he couldn't blame her.
    Deciding to do a little bit of the last part of that himself, he sat in the chaise alongside a quiet wall of his office and laid back, staring at the ceiling.  Not the most productive of things, but sometimes a person just had to stare at the ceiling for a bit until they gathered their thoughts.  He briefly wondered if this was why people enjoyed staring up at the night sky and gazing at the stars sometimes; did they want to immerse themselves in the wonder of the universe, or did it help them think better?  Possibly both, he decided.  How long had it been since he'd stopped to look up at the stars with more than a cursory glance?
    Someone knocked on