Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (Criminal Seduction #3)(4)

It was almost show time.

Mitch rolled his eyes at her words. “Secret, huh?”

“Yep.”

“So,” he asked, grinning. “What’s the plan? Are you’re just going to pounce the moment he arrives?”

Lyra laughed again, this time in genuine amusement. “Sweetie, you clearly don’t people watch properly.”

“Meaning what?”

She twirled her tumbler around, watching as the frosted ring glinted from the lights. They were scattered all over the club, twinkling, and filling the room with warmth. Shitty policies or no, Club Belmont did have a certain charm, and it was a novelty for Lyra to be in such a place without wearing a uniform, waiting tables, tending bar, or worse, cleaning.

“I won’t have to pounce,” she said softly. “Five minutes after he arrives Andros will be coming over to me.”

“You think?”

“I’m willing to bet on it.”

Mitch grinned, and gave her the eye. “Twenty quid?”

And though she had no money to spare, Lyra patted him on the hand, allowing her often restrained recklessness free reign, and nodded. “Mitch, you are so on.”





Chapter Two



Andros disliked doing business at the club, not least because the atmosphere was one he never felt comfortable with. Old money, old British charm and worse, the old boys’ network. As a Sicilian he was not part of that network, was barely even accepted on the fringes. He had not attended Eton or Oxford, or any of those institutions the network demanded and so he was taken on sufferance.

No, he thought as he passed his coat to the doorman, not sufferance, it was all a question of money, and he had so much of it that they had no choice but to deal with him. That amused him, was just one more sign of how far he had risen in the world.

His cell vibrated, and Andros pulled it from his pocket—eyes on the email that had just arrived—as he was escorted into the dining hall. The email was a reminder about a meeting he had in an hour’s time. No point thinking about it yet, he decided, he had to get this one out the way first.

He dismissed the email, looked up, and spotted Lord Carl Ainsley lounging in one of the club’s leather chairs. Though Ainsley was an old boy through and through, he was a cut above the rest of them, certainly more modern, and someone that Andros respected, even liked. They’d known one another for a few years, having worked on a project together. Both had been investors and the project had been a success, adding several million to Andros’ bank accounts, and another string to his ever-growing bow.


Carl grinned as Andros approached, and gestured to his drink—whisky by the looks of it. “You’ll join me?”

Andros shook his head. “Just coffee for me. Espresso.”

With a flick of his fingers, Carl sent the escort off to the bar. Andros didn’t quite frown, but allowed his mouth to settle into a tight line. Like most rich people, Carl saw no reason to actually speak to the staff. That was not a position Andros approved of. He’d waited tables in his very young years, cleaned out warehouses—hell, he’d done whatever it took to put a few American dollars in his pocket. And as his own fortunes had grown, one thing he had stuck with was an unflinching politeness to the people that worked for him. It encouraged loyalty, and as a Sicilian by birth, loyalty was important to Andros.

“How long do I have you for today?” Carl asked, folding up his copy of the FT. “I know you said on the phone that you were juggling other meetings. I appreciate you fitting me in at all.”

“I can spare but a half hour,” Andros replied.

Carl laughed. “I should be grateful for even that should I not?”

Andros shrugged, and leaned back as the escort approached with the drinks Carl had ordered. He nodded his thanks to the staff member, noting, with another sting of annoyance, that Carl did not.

“If we’d met at my offices,” he said slowly. “I could have arranged a full hour to discuss your venture.”

Carl picked up his drink, the ice tinkling in the glass as he did so. “This is fine. I know how busy you are, and as I said, I’ll be very brief.”

“Of course.”

After a swallow, Carl placed his glass back on the table and rubbed his hands together. “So what we’re looking to do here is all about…”

Andros leaned back in his chair as the other man spoke, though his attention was only half on him. Carl had already sent him all the venture information by email. He’d looked it all over, ordered some background checks and such. There was nothing that Carl could tell him that he didn’t already know. This meeting was, in Andros’ mind, just a chance to reconnect with Lord Ainsley. It was all about seeing if he was as passionate about his venture as he’d seemed in his email, and certainly, it looked that way. Carl spoke with gusto, gesturing to make his point. Andros approved.

“What’s the ballpark figure?” he asked after a few minutes.

Carl raised an eyebrow at being cut off. “You don’t want me to go over the rest of the information? I have some files in my case.”

“There’s no need.”

Carl gave a sum, and grinned when Andros nodded slowly. “You don’t even blink at that figure, Andros?”

“I’ve been asked for a lot more.”