Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (Criminal Seduction #3)(38)

“You must, Lyra. That is what I am thinking. That you were purposefully trying to make me angry, no?”

His accent was marked. Lyra shivered. She only heard it like that when he was buried deep inside of her. “Why on earth would I do that?

“I do not know.”

“Andros, what is this about? I don’t—”

He came to a halt in front of her, eyes blazing, and when he spoke, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. “You were flirting with that boy.”

Her mouth fell open. That boy? “Who?”

“The bartender,” he snapped. “The f*cking bartender.”

So that was what he was angry about? Jesus. “Mitch?” she said slowly. “I was doing no such thing! I was being friendly is all.”

Andros glared, his fists clenching and unclenching. “How do you know his name?”

“It’s on his name tag,” she said carefully.

“Name tag or no you were too friendly for my liking.”

“For your liking?” She paused, took in his stance and shook her head slightly. How could Andros be so angry over such a little thing? “Are you serious?”

He shot her a glare. “Lyra, my control is shaky right now. Do not make it any worse.”


“Well what do you want me to say?” Lyra threw her clutch bag onto the couch. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Whilst you are under my protection, Lyra, you do not talk to other men.”

The shoes followed the bag. “Andros, really? You can’t ban me from talking to fifty percent of everyone.”

“I can and I will,” he growled. “Who placed those jewels around your neck, that silk against your skin?”

“You did.”

“I own you, Lyra. That was the deal was it not, the deal you yourself brokered?”

She frowned at his words, not liking the way they sounded, or the meaning behind them. No one owned her, not now, not ever. “I brokered a deal to become your mistress,” she said slowly. “Not your possession.”

“They are one and the same.”

Lyra opened her mouth to deny that, but closed it a moment later. Pointing out the finer points of mistressdom whilst Andros was in such a bad mood didn’t seem like a good idea. “Look, Andros,” she said instead. “What do you care if I talk to other men? You know that at the end of the night I am coming home with you, that you will be the one taking me to bed.”

“Because you are f*cking mine!” he roared, making her jump back—her aching feet protesting the action. “Is that a difficult concept for you to grasp, Lyra?”

She swallowed carefully, her heart thudding, because she’d never seen him like this. Never. “Your jealousy is.”

He glared. “I am not jealous!”

“What else would you call it?” she asked. “Dragging me out of the club, banning me from talking to every single man on the planet?”

“I am merely ensuring that you behave.”

“Behave?” Lyra spluttered, unbelieving the way their conversation was going. “What is it you think I might do?”

“Perhaps at some point you will decide that another protector is in order?” he asked, and his voice was deadly. “Or maybe you will seek to spice things up? You have all day by yourself when I am working. Not to mention the evenings when I have other engagements. I have never thought of it before now but it occurs to me now, Lyra, to wonder how you fill the time.”

“I shop.”

“All day, every day?”

“I get my hair done, my nails, I have massages, all the things you told me to do. Don’t believe me? Check your card statements.”

“I will, and if I find many hours are unaccounted for, you and I will be having a conversation.”

She gaped. “You’re seriously suggesting I would f*ck someone else whilst I’m f*cking you?

“I do not know,” he grated. “You tell me nothing about you. Nothing! I know every inch of your skin. Every place to make you sigh and gasp and moan, but not your secrets.” He threw his hands in the air. “You keep them well hidden. You tell me nothing. Not about your background, your family, nothing.”

“And what is it you wish to know?” Lyra asked.

He gestured, his accent thickening even more. “Everything. Your sisters, for instance. Where are they, why do you never see them?”

Lyra’s heart raced. “They’re busy. I’ll see them soon.”

He growled. “That answer makes my point entirely.”

“You’re missing one.”

“And that is?”

Lyra shrugged. “I am the perfect mistress. I do not ask you for anything other than what you give me. I do not ask how you spend your nights when you are not here or who you spend them with. I spend my days ensuring I look beautiful for when you come and see me, and when you do, I pleasure you in every single way you require. There is nothing you have asked of me that I have not done.”

“This is true—”

“I am giving you everything I said I would,” she added. “And up until this point you have done the same. Our relationship is not about secrets and personalities or the like. It is about this. You, me, the pleasure we give one another.”