His Absolute Authority: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #3)

Title Page

Copyright Page

Foreword

His Absolute Authority

Bonus Scene

A Note from Cerys

Sample (Sweet)

Sample (Spice)

Other Writing by Cerys du Lys

About the Author

Afterwords

W
ant to receive special offers, weekly updates, and new release announcements from Cerys du Lys?  Sign up here!

CerysduLys.com/Newsletter

~*~

Y
ou can also find me on Facebook! ~ (
like me
) | (
friend me
) | (
book club
)

You can friend or follow me on
Goodreads
, too.

~*~

P
revious books in the
Jessika's Love Story
series:

His Absolute Arrangement

His Absolute Insistence

Books in the
Elise's Love Story
series, the concurrent series that follows alongside this one, involving Elise and Lucent's side of the story:

His Absolute Assignment

His Absolute Betrayal

I
looked through my closet at all my old clothes.  They brought back so many memories.  I didn't know if every memory was a good memory, but I started thinking of things that I hadn't thought about in forever.

Before I met Asher, I'd struggled to make ends meet.  I worked day to day at a temp agency downtown, doing odd jobs here and there.  Mostly secretarial work, to be honest.  I was good at typing and answering phones.  Or, I used to be.  I supposed I was still technically good at both things, but I didn't do either of them under the same pretext anymore.  Typing to write stories and books was an entirely different kind of skill compared to writing up office notes or typing copy from a printout.  It wasn't necessarily a bad thing to type fast for creative writing, but it wasn't absolutely necessary, either.  Sometimes it worked better if I just paused and sat there and thought about what I wanted to write next.

I preferred being able to choose, but sometimes it was a lot harder, too.  I remembered having to type up pages and pages of notes that one of my temp job bosses gave me.  It was mindless and simple.  Type, type, type, flip to the next page, type type type, flip, type.  Not all that much to it, to be honest.

Creating stories was something else entirely, though.  I liked to languish on words and choose them specifically for their meaning and the sounds they made in my mind.  A person in one of my stories might stand, or they could rise to their feet, or perhaps they jumped up.  It was all the same sort of thing, but depending on the situation, sometimes one way sounded better than the other.  Sometimes the words surrounding other words, surrounding even more words, made the story flow nicely, or seem like poetry, or gave it simplicity, or any number of things.

That was kind of like my life right now.  I was in my old apartment with Asher, staring at my old clothes, in my old closet.  It was a simple place, and the clothes were plain.  We'd made love earlier, and we were both naked now, which made everything even simpler still.

Except... well, on the floor, discarded, was one of my nicer outfits.  The clothes I usually wore now were probably more expensive than anything I used to own.  If I totaled up the price of everything on the floor, it very well might have cost more than everything in my closet all together.  And there were a lot of clothes in my closet.

The apartment was simple and the closet and clothes were simple, and in a lot of ways I felt simple, too.  Everything surrounding me was a lot simpler, except my life was anything but simple right now.

Asher was a billionaire.  He owned his own company, Landseer Enterprises, and it was large.  We went to work every day in some massive tower named after him.  I supposed it wasn't strictly named after him, but his last name was the same as his company's name, so it stood to reason that it kind of was.

We usually lived in a mansion, which was nice in its own way.  It was kind of too big for anyone, but there were always a lot of people there.  It had the most beautiful library, too, which I loved.  I liked our bedroom, because in a way it was smaller than every other room; though that wasn't saying much, because it was still huge.  It was nice to just sit in there and relax and pretend that it was an apartment in the city instead of a room in a mansion.  We had our own private bathroom directly attached, so I could stay in our bedroom, sit on the bed and watch TV, or use my laptop, and not have to worry about becoming lost in all of the excess space surrounding us.

Sometimes I preferred going to the guest house for that reason.  Maybe that sounds stupid, but I still didn't really understand why we needed so much space.  I never told Asher that, because it wasn't really my right to.  It was his home and he'd owned it and lived in it long before he knew me.  I loved looking at it and sometimes I liked wandering through the mansion, but it just never seemed like a home.  It looked too large, and too clean and pristine.  There were art portraits hanging on the walls, and expensive vases on pedestals near many of the windows, with a library that looked like it belonged in a public city building instead of a private home.

It was...

"How about this?" Asher asked.  He placed a hand on my hip while reaching over my shoulder with his other hand.  His chin rested near my neck and we stood there, him behind me, cheek to cheek.

My skin grew warm at his touch and I leaned back against him, feeling our naked bodies pressing together.  I wanted to be closer to him.  I didn't feel quite at home in the Landseer mansion, but I felt wonderful when I was next to Asher, no matter where we were.

He pulled out a soft white t-shirt.  By all accounts, it looked incredibly plain.

"That?" I asked, taking it from him.  "It's just a white t-shirt."

"It looks comfortable," he said.

"I'm sure it is, but..."  I started to glance over my shoulder towards my discarded clothes on the floor, but Asher's head was that way.  When I turned to look, my lips brushed against his and I inadvertently caressed the edge of his cheek with a kiss.

He spun me towards him, both his hands on my hips now, holding me close.  We were tight together, and naked.  My breasts pushed against his chest and my stomach touched his.  His fingers pulled me closer to him.  I leaned back slightly, relishing his touch and our closeness.  I looked up at him, loving him.  I had the white t-shirt in my hands, but I dropped it to the floor and wrapped my arms around him.

He bent down slightly and offered me a kiss.  I accepted it gladly, and offered him one in return.  Soft and sweet, we stood there, our lips and bodies coming together.

"Why didn't you bring any of this?" he asked.  "You could have packed it when you moved in with me."

"I know," I said.  I didn't know how to explain it to him, but I wanted to try.  "Asher, it's all just... it's nothing, you know?  It's just a bunch of cheap clothes.  I think that t-shirt cost me less than five dollars somewhere.  It's a plain white t-shirt.  They sell them almost everywhere.  All my old clothes are like that.  There's nothing special here.  I think the most I ever spent on something was thirty dollars on a nicer pair of jeans or a good skirt and blouse for job interviews."

Asher shrugged and squeezed me tight.  "It doesn't matter how much you spend," he said.  "If it's yours and you want to keep it, then don't feel like you have to hide it from me.  I'm sure I've got plenty of cheap clothes at home, too."

I had to laugh at that.  "I don't think so," I said.

"No?" he asked.

"I know you don't look at the price tags of almost anything, but I do.  We go shopping together, remember?  Yes, your suits and business clothes are obviously more expensive, but your casual clothes aren't exactly cheap.  I saw you buy a pair of sweatpants for over a hundred dollars once.  For sweatpants, Asher.  They were nice sweatpants, but that's a bit much, you know?"

He smirked at me.  "Is it?"

"You're just teasing me now.  You
have
to know that's not exactly normal."

"Maybe," he said.  "Fine, I admit that I don't bother looking at the price tags of things like that.  I wouldn't mind, though.  If you want to go bargain shopping sometime, we can."

"You want to go bargain shopping?" I asked.

"It could be fun?" he said.  "We could see how much we could buy with, say... two hundred?  Cash, so that we don't spend more than that.  If we go over, we'll have to put something back."

"Two hundred dollars each or total?" I asked.

"Which is better?"

"You're asking me?  Shouldn't you know this?"

He grinned at me, laughing.  "I've never gone bargain shopping before!"

"What?  You've
never
gone bargain shopping?  How is that possible?"

"Well..."  He was about to explain, but I stopped him.

"Fine, I understand how it's possible, but that's so strange.  It's fun to shop like that."

"You'll take me, then?"

"Maybe."  I turned to look towards my closet again.  "I'll need to get you some clothes for it, though.  I have plenty, but you'll need an outfit first."

"You need a special outfit to go bargain shopping?  I didn't think it'd be that difficult."

"Asher, you can't just walk into a bargain store wearing a bunch of nice clothes.  That defeats the point.  Also, I think it'd be rude.  People might think you're making fun of them."

"Uh...?"

I rolled my eyes at him.  Really?  He didn't understand?  "Have you ever heard of an ugly sweater party?" I asked.

"Those parties that happen around Christmas time?" he answered.

"Yes, exactly.  You go to the party wearing the ugliest sweater you can find.  Except, you know what?  For every ugly sweater, there's someone who thought it looked nice.  I know there's a thing where some companies intentionally make ugly sweaters, but that's not how it's supposed to work.  You're supposed to find one that wasn't supposed to be ugly, except then sometimes it gets mean."

"How is that mean?" he asked.

"I don't expect you to understand, Mr. Landseer, billionaire CEO of Landseer Enterprises, but..."

His eyes sparkled, amused.  "Yes, go on, Mrs. Landseer, trophy wife of the billionaire CEO of Landseer Enterprises..."

"I'm going to ignore that you said that," I said, laughing at him, then kissing him quick.  "The thing is that if you go into a store and you're looking around for an ugly sweater that isn't supposed to be ugly, it's mean because someone must have liked that sweater.  So you're kind of making fun of them, you know?  By saying that the sweater they like is ugly, and you're wearing it to a funny party as a joke."

"I can understand that," he said.  "They might think some of my clothes are ugly, too, though?  I wouldn't get upset if they did."

"I'm almost completely certain no one will ever find your expensive suits ugly, Asher.  Or your hundred dollar sweatpants."

"Should I buy uglier sweatpants?" he asked.  "I'm not sure how to do this."

"No.  I like them.  I like how they hang off your waist a little, like maybe they're about to fall off.  When I see you in them I just want to tug them down a little more, and..."

I reached down, re-enacting my thoughts, except neither of us wore clothes.  I tapped my fingernails on his hipbone, then slowly raked my nails lower as if I were pulling his pants down his thighs.  My fingers may or may not have inadvertently crept rather close to the middle of Asher's legs.  His cock may or may not have jumped at my touch and tapped against the edge of my hand.

"Don't go getting excited now," I said, smirking.

"I'll get excited all I want," he said.  "We're trying to get you pregnant, remember?"

"Oh, is that it?  That's the only reason you're going to get excited?"

"I'm going to get excited," he said, "because I want to toss you on the bed and fuck you hard, Jessika."

I breathed in fast, lost in his words.  Mmm, Asher wanted to be rough and rugged, did he?  Two could play at that game, except...

"We can't," I said, pulling myself away from the edge of lust-induced insanity.  "Asher, we need to hurry.  We've got to take a shower and get dressed before Elise gets here.  We don't have a lot of time."

"I'm sure we have plenty of time," he said.  "At least twenty minutes."