Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (Criminal Seduction #3)(43)

Her words were like drawing a line in the sand. Andros was not stupid, he picked up on that immediately, taking another step back, shaking his head, a smile that wasn’t a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Of course. Take care of yourself, Lyra.”

And she nodded, because she always had, always would, there was no choice in that, never f*cking had been. The bubble of unhappiness—was she calling it that now?—inflated at that thought, and Lyra looked down at the floor, clenching her fists and gritting her teeth to try and keep it under control.

Check but not check mate, Lyra. Never check mate.

“You too, Andros,” she whispered, but he didn’t hear, because when she looked up he was already gone.





Chapter Twenty-Two



Two months later



Andros had not expected to spend so long out of the country, had imagined that his work would be done within a matter of days. Only the days had quickly turned into weeks, and then weeks more. He hadn’t felt any desperate need to come back to London; in fact, he’d felt like the best thing he could do was to stay far away.

The reason for that was painfully obvious but he left it unacknowledged, preferring instead to tell himself that he was busy. So much work had to be done, and he’d spent too much time on other things.

So stay out of the UK. Simple.

Get a whole lot of work done. Not a problem.

Earn more millions. Easy.

See his family. Done.

But eventually he had to return, if only for a few hours. It was inescapable, and as his driver turned into his Grosvenor Square, he looked up at his town house, and the thoughts that had been haunting him would stay unacknowledged no more.

Lyra.

Where was she now, Andros wondered, because she certainly wasn’t in the apartment. In fact, she had left the day after their relationship had ended.

You can’t call it a relationship, a voice taunted, and he growled as he left the car, hurrying up the steps to his home. At best it was a fling, a slightly odd, completely out of character fling. Relationships were nothing like that. Not that he was an expert, he’d had very few in his life and no real desire for any more, but he suspected that a relationship would not have held the same sort of fire. The same desperate need to f*ck and f*ck.

He shuddered slightly as he remembered how hard Lyra had made him. He’d lost his mind somewhere, he thought. Lost it between her thighs maybe, or in her never-ending legs.

He had been right to put an end to everything, even as his heart had clenched as he said the words to her, saw the look on her face—a look she’d tried very hard to hold in. He had been right. The rage, the jealousy, the feelings she coaxed out of him, it was too much. He had to remember that!


The house was quiet when he entered, the feel of abandonment real in a way it hadn’t been before. Andros scowled as he looked around the lobby. He had staff coming in whilst he was away. Keeping the place clean and aired, checking the security, so surely everything should feel fine—only it didn’t.

He walked through the lobby into the living area, his eyes falling immediately onto the couch where he’d first seduced Lyra. That moment played in his mind and he let out a sharp exhale. Her legs wide open, her lips parted, her tits heaving. He closed his eyes, letting the images play inside of him.

How he’d wanted her. How desperate he’d been to seduce her.

He almost laughed as he sat down. Had it really been him seducing her or had it always been the other way around? He did not know. Could not be sure. Certainly she had been honest with him from the very beginning. Had never made any bones about what she wanted and how she wanted it. And he’d given it to her…then took it from her.

His cell vibrated. Andros sighed as he took it out. The next few hours were likely to be ridiculously busy. He had any number of people to catch up with, meetings to go to, a dinner to attend. He was flying straight back to Italy tonight, with a full diary there for the next week. All his days were likely to be full for the foreseeable future, with no time to be thinking about a redheaded witch.

The call was from the office, Marjorie probably, and Andros touched the screen to ignore it. He would be heading there shortly, so they could wait until then. His thumb hovered on the touch screen, and despite his resolve of just moment ago, Andros couldn’t help but scroll through his contacts until he found Lyra’s number. He’d done so several times over the last few months. Pulling it up, he planned to delete it, but then left it where he was.

Slowly he moved to press delete again, but, and without even thinking about it, found himself pressing the ‘call’ button instead.

The moment he did, a sort of horror hit and Andros clenched his hand around the phone, wondering what the hell he was doing. He’d held out for months! Had kept himself in check, and here he was, mere hours after landing back on English soil, attempting to call her!

Unacceptable.

He made to end the call, but paused because there was no need. The touch screen was flashing a message, ‘call failed’. With a frown, Andros attempted another call, but the message was the same. What did that mean, he wondered? He hadn’t cancelled the contract; it was still running as far as he knew. Which meant that Lyra must have done something to it, changed the number perhaps?

Why did that thought anger him so much? Because what business of his was it what she did with the presents he’d given her? Hadn’t he said she could take them all? That was the promise between them. And yet still, after all these months, he couldn’t help but be curious. Couldn’t stop the thoughts haunting him…