Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (Criminal Seduction #3)(35)

She thought then, unsurprisingly perhaps, of Penny and Rachel. Lyra wished she knew where they were now, and what they were doing with themselves. She’d checked their mail programme—the agreed way to contact one another if anything went wrong with their missions—but hadn’t heard from either. Lyra took that as a good sign. If Penny had been caught stealing from Demetrious she would have been able to arrange an email in prison—they knew plenty of people in there. And Rachel too would easily be able to access a computer. So Lyra had to assume all was well, that they had either completed, or were getting on with their missions.

Which left just her. She broke a piece of cheese bread off and dropped it on the ground for the wandering pigeons. When would her mission come to an end, she wondered? Another week, two? There was no way to tell, and though Lyra wanted it to go on as long as possible, she knew that in another couple of weeks she would have to ask Andros for the money for The Point if she was still with him.

Would he give it to her?

She suspected he would. It was such a small amount, to him at least.

Though how he would feel about the whole thing she did not know. More than that, she was not sure how she felt about it all. Being with him was like something out of a dream. The sex, the conversations, the simple pleasure of lying in his arms. Lyra did not want it to end, not for quite some time, and yet she knew that, inevitably, it would. When it did, she would have important things to be doing. Getting The Point up and running. Helping the people in their area. Spending time with her sisters again.

She sighed, and threw the last of the bread at the pigeons. They pecked at it greedily, one, then two, then three of them all sharing the same bit.

Three.

The three sisters.

Lyra took a deep swallow of water, and frowned at the sudden tightness in her chest. She missed Penny and Rachel so much. They’d never spent this much time apart. More than once she had been tempted to return to their little flat and see if Penny had returned, maybe even Rachel too. But they’d agreed early on that none would return to their home until the missions were complete. It was almost their incentive. You can’t see each other again until you get the swag.

That needed to be soon.

The clock was ticking hard.

Only Lyra didn’t want it to be. She wanted it to pause, for the bubble she and Andros had created to remain perfectly in place for as long as possible. Wishful thinking, she thought. Reaching past the stars now.

That was the thought that haunted her as she returned to the apartment, and would continue to do so over the next few days.





Chapter Eighteen



Several days later Andros—with Lyra welded to his side—approached the entrance to Club Belmont. It was lit up with a number of oil lamps and the doors were painted very deep red. The doors only changed to that color when the annual party was in full swing, and as a member Andros had been invited to attend. Ordinarily he would not have bothered, but part of him was ever so slightly nostalgic to return to the scene of his initial meeting with Lyra. Then too was the fact that he expected to meet a couple of business acquaintances, and the food was always a big draw.

Partners were invited to the annual party, one of the few occasions when the wives and such actually turned out. It had not occurred to Andros to leave Lyra at home, and once again she looked drop dead gorgeous. Part of him wanted to order her back into the car, spirit her home, and f*ck her until she passed out. The other part was ridiculously proud to have such a woman on his arm…that part was not as strong, it couldn’t be; he was too territorial for that to be the case.


“Wow,” Lyra said as they made their way up the carpeted entrance. “Some of these women have brought out the big guns.”

She nodded at a middle-aged woman who was wrapped in a fur stole and dripping with diamonds.

“You are sparkling yourself.”

She grinned. “I know. My diamonds are amazing, and I bet that’s real fur. Bitch.”

“We have discussed your views on this and I more than agree. Let us discuss your outfit instead,” he said as he escorted her inside. Her hand was on his arm, and she seemed to glide along next to him as if it was all perfectly normal for her to do so. It made him ache in a way he didn’t quite understand. “I’m not sure I approve of your dresses.”

“This one is perfectly decent,” Lyra sighed as he nodded to the doorman. “It comes to my ankle for cripes’ sake.”

“It has a huge split up the thigh.”

Lyra looked down –as if checking that was the case, then shot him a smile. “Oh my gosh, it does as well. I wonder whose hand will be making their way into that slit later?”

He grinned despite himself. “I shall rip it the entire length. Not only will that give me the access I desire, but it will ensure you cannot wear this out again.”

“You’re so heavy handed,” she teased. “You said I could pick whatever clothes I wanted and I did.”

“And they suit you perfectly,” he said, stepping a little closer to her as they made their way to the bar. “Too perfectly…but then there are the heels to consider.”

“The heels—”

“Andros?”

Lyra’s words halted as a very uppercut accent hit. Andros turned her towards the man who owned it, and moved through the crowd until they were at the bar. Lord Ainsley sat on almost the very same stool Lyra had been sitting on when he’d first seen her, and Andros remembered suddenly how the other man had intended to chase Lyra himself. The thought annoyed him, made him aware all over again how desirable his mistress really was.