Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (13 page)

It
was something Lyra had lamented to her sisters more than once. How was she
supposed to get herself a boyfriend when no one tried to chat her up? And oh,
she
had
so wanted a boyfriend for so
long. A settled kind of guy who would excite her, look after her, cuddle her
when she was cold, rub her back when she had her period.

Before
the mission and Andros, she’d made every attempt to find someone, but nothing
had ever come of it. Perhaps that was why she’d been so intent on changing her
mission parameters and having some fun with the Sicilian. Because she’d known
he would fancy her. Because he was rich, because he was arrogant, and fit
enough himself not to be daunted by her.

That
was something to think about at some point.

They
made it to the front of the queue after a minute or so. Lyra eyed the menu
greedily, her stomach flipping in knots as she planned what to get. “Do you
want to share a bucket?”

“A
bucket?”

“Yeah.”
She pointed to the top of the menu glowing on the wall. “Look, it has twelve
pieces of chicken, beans, gravy, fries and corn on the cob.”

“Twelve
pieces of chicken?”

“Yes,
but I warn you, I’m going to want at least half of them.”

“Whatever
you want.”

Lyra
ordered the bucket, paid for it with Andros’ money, and led them over to one of
the bar tables against the window. Andros carried over their drinks, two cokes,
and she the bucket. Once they were seated, she pulled the food out and spread
it before them, the delicious smell of chicken making her feel ever so slightly
faint.

She
did not pause before eating, and did not stop until her stomach was near bursting.
Andros seemed to be equally as content to simply tuck into the fried chicken,
and as Lyra watched him, she couldn’t help but be struck by how odd the
situation was.

Andros
Casstellini, Sicilian tycoon, billionaire media magnate, sat in a fried chicken
house with the woman who had schemed to become his mistress. It was so fucking
surreal.

“I
will be visiting here again,” he proclaimed the moment the last of the chicken
was gone. “In fact I am already considering how I can move this business closer
to my home.”

“Leave
it where it is,” Lyra scolded. “Lots of people like eating here. It’s not just
for you.”

He
reached out and took her hand, his long fingers wrapping around her wrist.
“True, but once I want something…”

“You
get it,” she finished for him, and he nodded.

 
Then, right there in the chicken house, and
before she could think to stop him, he took her index finger and licked along
it, sucking the chicken grease off. It should have skeeved her out, but it so
did not. When he did the same to her next finger Lyra’s pussy clenched, and her
nipples hardened.

Desire
filled her. Swift and shocking. Like a sucker punch to the gut, it was now all
she could think about.

“I
think I had enough,” she whispered.

He
smiled that amazing smile of his, and licked his lips.
Christ.

“Time
to go home,
Rossa
.”

Chapter Fourteen

Monday
morning and Andros arrived at his office early. He had a full day ahead of him,
including a trip to Bristol, so needed to maximize his time. He’d left Lyra in
bed, curled up once again, fast asleep. He hadn’t particularly wanted to leave
her, would have liked to have shaken her awake and buried himself in her all
over again—just as he had all weekend—but there was much to be done, and only
so much time.

He
turned on his laptop, and got to work answering critical emails. The morning
hours passed by quickly, with more emails, phone calls, and meetings with his
support staff. It was lunchtime before he had a moment to think. He thought of
her
and checked his wristwatch. He had
an hour before he needed to head to Bristol, why not take care of the plans
he’d considered over the weekend, and made on the drive in?

He
strode out of his office, nodding at his assistant Marjorie. “Are you busy?”

She
raised an eyebrow, and placed her tablet on her desk. “I’m always busy, Andros.
Everyone in this office is busy.”

He
looked around the spacious room, catching a smile or two. He had a very good
relationship with his support team. They sat together in the large open plan
office outside of his own space, and every one of them would be bluntly honest
with him if required.

“It’s
because our boss is a slave driver.”

This
came from Ricardo, a young Italian graduate, who had risen through the ranks of
Andros’ company with startling speed.

“You
look like you have time on your hands, Ricky,” Andros said slowly. “Your inbox
looks distinctly empty.” He smiled wickedly. “Might as well pick up the Ainsley
project.”

Ricky
frowned. “
Dios
, someone is going to
have to go down there for a few days. You realize they’ll put me in the
servants' quarters of that castle of theirs? It’ll be freezing.”

Andros
nodded. “But think of all the…architecture.”

Ricky
grinned. “On it.”

Marjorie
coughed. “And by architecture I hope you mean the portraits, rather than the
fact that Lord Ainsley likes to surround himself with models passed off as
maids.”

Andros
gave Marjorie a solemn sort of look. “Of course I do. Now, do you have anything
urgent you need to do this instant?”
 

She
gave him another eye roll. “There’s always something urgent to do, but if
you’re asking if I can fit something else in, then by all means.”

He
nodded, and cocked his head towards the door. “Come with me, then.”

Marjorie
shrugged on her suit jacket, picked up her bag—a red polka dot effort he’d
given her for Christmas—not because it was something he’d think to buy, but
because she’d left a little clipping on his desk making it quite clear that she
expected it as part of her Christmas bonus, and followed him towards the
elevator.

“Are
we going somewhere in particular?” she asked.

“I
need to pick up some things,” he said.

“You
have personal shoppers for that. Melissa has called twice, eager to come help
with any of your shopping needs.”

Andros
picked up on exactly what Marjorie was saying, her tone was enough, and
scowled. “You still think it was a mistake to keep Melissa’s firm on?”

“What
I think doesn’t matter.”

“Of
course it does. I pay you very well for your thoughts.”

“I
think,” Marjorie sighed, “that it is only a matter of time before she attempts
to inveigle herself back into your life.”

Andros
thought of the time he’d spent with Melissa. Certainly it had been brief. A few
dates, a few nights in bed. She had bored him quickly. Too clingy, too needy,
and far too dull. Nothing at all like the fiery Lyra.

His mistress.

He
almost shook his head as he thought those words. The situation was…odd…and yet
it felt like it was right. Somehow, over the course of the last couple of days,
Lyra had pushed him into the position she wanted him to be in, and he had not
resisted. If anything, he’d gone along with her plans eagerly. Was doing so
even now.
 

“She
was hardly in my life before,” Andros said.

Marjorie
snorted. “I’m sure she does not see it that way.”

“How
she sees it is irrelevant.”

They
rode the elevator down to the sparkling lobby, Andros texting Larsson as he did
so, and made their way into the London sun.

 
“So what is it we’re doing?” Marjorie asked as
Larsson glided to a halt in front of them.

“I
need you to purchase these things whilst I take care of my business at the
bank,” he said, emailing Marjorie the list he’d put together on the drive in.

Her
Blackberry pinged and she pulled it out of her pocket, opening up the email. He
could feel the questions coming off her as she read down the list. “The company
contracts are for Blackberrys,” she said after a moment. “Is the iPhone for
personal business?”

“Yes.”

She
nodded slowly. “Any specific make of iPhone?

“The
current model,” Andros said as his driver pulled up.

“And
the laptop?”

He
shrugged. “A Mac, maybe. If you’re going to the Apple store anyway that makes
sense, and you can grab the other things there too. Meet me back here in a half
hour or so. I could use you in Bristol anyway, so we’ll drive straight there.”

“Of
course.”

Larsson
dropped Marjorie off on Oxford Street before joining London traffic again and
heading in the opposite direction to one of the most prestigious addresses in
London. The bank was housed in a nondescript building next to a number of
boutiques and high-end shops. Few would know it was actually a financial
center, and that suited everyone.

 
Andros did not have an appointment but it
didn’t matter. He directed Larsson to wait for him and headed in to see his own
manager, who was, of course, ready and willing to see him with no notice at
all. Hell, he was probably one of their wealthiest customers, so of course they
were ready and waiting.

It
took less than fifteen minutes to arrange for a bankcard to be sent to Lyra
with sufficient funds in to ensure she would not be hungry again. Whenever he
thought of that, Andros felt angry. To think that she hadn’t eaten because she
had no money—at least not money she was able to spend—for food. It angered him.
Made him think about the area she lived in, which then, in turn, made him glad
she was now under his protection.

Who
would have thought, just a few days ago, that he’d be glad to have a woman
under his protection, Andros mused as he signed the necessary forms and was
joined by Larsson. It didn’t really make any sense. But then nothing about him
and Lyra did. The whole situation had a strong feel of insanity. And he knew
that he was acting out of character, that he was behaving in a way which was
all wrong for him, only he couldn’t seem to help himself. He desired her so
damn much.

“We’re
parked a minute’s walk away,” Larsson said. “Do you want to wait here or…?”

“I’ll
walk with you,” Andros said, thinking that fresh air, as much as he could get,
could only help.

It
was then, as they made their way to the car, that it caught his eye. Andros paused
and halted, swiveled on the spot, and looked at the discreet display in the
jeweler’s window.

Flashes of fire.

And
the fresh air was clearly not helping at all. Not sobering his thoughts in any
way. Because, before he knew what he was doing Andros was striding into the
store, Larsson at his side, beckoning the assistant over.

“The
necklace in the window,” he said. “Get it for me, please.”

The
shop assistant hurried to comply, laying it out on the sparkling glass display
stand. “This forms part of a set. Platinum setting, three point four carats in
total.”

Flashes of fire.

Andros
nodded to himself even as he wondered what it was exactly about the jewelry
that made him think of Lyra. Had it been a ruby that would make sense, or even
a sapphire—because Lyra’s eyes were a beautiful blue—but diamonds? And what was
more, very expensive ones at that. She wouldn’t be expecting such a present, he
thought.
Dios
, she hadn’t even
thought to ask him for food.

No,
she would be surprised, her eyes would twinkle, her lips curve into a
smile…she’d drop to her knees…he’d unzip…

“Wrap
it for me,” he said.

Chapter Fifteen

Lyra
reached out a shaking hand towards the boxes and bags spread around, her eyes
wide, her heart thudding. “Presents? For me?”

Andros
shrugged, and settled himself down on to the couch behind her. She’d been sat
against it, sprawled on the rug watching a movie on the flat screen, but she
adjusted position now so that she was sitting between his legs.

“Who
else would they be for?”

“I
don’t know, I…” Lyra shook her head, shock thrumming through her. Andros had
walked through the door not five minutes ago, and dropped the bags at her feet.
At first she hadn’t realized what they were, but a moment later understanding
had dawned. “I’m not used to presents,” she said slowly.

“It
is an official mistress duty,” Andros said, his tone teasing. He reached
forward and lifted her hair into his hands. For some reason she couldn’t quite
understand he seemed to like to play with it, lifting it, running his hands
through it…gripping it…

Lyra
swallowed unsteadily. “Oh, well, in that case.”