Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (Criminal Seduction #3)(29)

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.