Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (Criminal Seduction #3)(11)

It all came down to this moment, and Lyra knew too that by taking the step she planned that she was risking everything they were trying to achieve. But also that it was unavoidable. For her this was the only way she could achieve her mission.

The only way to get what she wanted.

“My words have made you thoughtful,” Andros said.

Lyra smiled across at him, cheering a little inside as his gaze dropped to her mouth. She licked her lips, not to tempt him more, but because they were suddenly dry. His fist clenched on the table, and she shivered.

“They have.”

“Tell me.”

It was a command rather than a question. Despite the fact Lyra would have liked to wait just a few more moments, until her stomach settled at least, she knew she could not. Andros had indulged her with this dinner, but she suspected that indulgence was all but used up. So it was time. Deep breath.

“I was thinking,” she said slowly, “about a book I recently read.”

He laughed. The sound filled the space around them making Lyra’s stomach muscles clench. How was it possible that even his laugh was attractive?

“Politics, books, there is more to you than meets the eye, I suspect. Though I cannot help but think I must be losing my touch if you’re thinking about books.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hmmm…well come,” he said. “It relates in some way, no? So tell me about this book.”

This was it. Lyra’s heart thudded so hard she was sure Andros must be able to hear it, to feel the nerves rolling off her.

Show time.

“Did you know,” she began, her words far steadier than she’d expected them to be. “That in the Regency period women who were genteel and poor would offer themselves up as mistresses to men in the aristocracy?”

Silence for a moment, and when Andros spoke his accent was marked, thicker. “I did not know that.”

She shrugged, just a small movement, before casting him a look from under her lashes. It was one she’d practiced in the mirror, worked on to make perfect, and it had the desired effect. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared.

Desire. Thick. Throbbing.

“I read a lot of historical romances,” she continued, her voice less steady now. “My sister adores them, and you know I think it makes sense.”

“How so?” he asked.

“They were poor and they had no way to earn a living for themselves. Women weren’t allowed to work after all, or if they were the jobs were pretty grim. So they would spend time with the man, until he tired of her—men always do in the end don’t they?—and then when the affair ended he would give her a parting gift.”

“Such as?”

The money I need for The Point, Lyra thought, but of course did not say so. There would be time and enough for that. “A house. Jewelry. Sometimes even a pension. It ensured that the woman would be able to look after herself in the future.”

“But women are more than capable of supporting themselves in today’s world. A number of my directors are women.”

“True, though some more than others.” Lyra shrugged. “A lot depends on the start you have in life, I think. Look around the room. How many of the women here came from dire circumstances? Not many I bet.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Andros asked.

Why? Because she wanted to be open and honest, because she wanted more than just the end mission. She wanted to be desired, properly desired. To have something that wasn’t simply a quick fling with a guy from the estate, but an experience with a real man. One who was commanding and…alpha…


Her mind supplied the word and it fit. There could be no doubt that Andros was alpha through and through. Of course, Lyra did not, could not, say any of that, so instead she reached for her glass, took a small sip of wine and caught his eye. Her gaze was steady as she spoke, wanting to make it all very clear.

“Why? Because it always made sense in my mind. A beautiful woman using what God gave her. Perfect sense.”

“And would you call yourself beautiful, Lyra?”

Another shrug, but it was clear between them now, he knew what she was suggesting and he was not saying no. “I know what I look like, Andros. I know what men think when they see me.”

“And that is?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I should rephrase. They don’t think; the blood goes other places than the brain.”

“Some might call you arrogant.”

“People call you that all the time. But no, it is not conceited to be aware of your strengths. Mine happen to be the way I look. That has nothing to do with me, just genetic lottery, but still.”

“You are a very beautiful woman,” he agreed. “Not classically beautiful perhaps, there’s too much fire in you for that.”

“Fire? Because of my red hair?”

“No, that’s not where it is. It’s here.” He reached out across the table and ran the back of his hand down her cheekbone. The contact made her shiver and she had to clench her fists, her nails digging into her skin. Only the pain did nothing to bring her to her senses.

Lyra was falling and fast.

“The face,” he added. “The eyes particularly. You’re brimming with it.”

“I take that as a compliment,” she said, and she had to work to keep her voice steady.