Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (4 page)

“You’re
looking very thoughtful there.”

She
glanced up to see Mitch making his way over to her. His words were enough to
clear her head, to stop over thinking, and Lyra laughed softly. “It’s almost
show time.”

“That
it is. He’s just stood up. He’s making his way over to Jeremy.”

“Jeremy?”

Mitch
nodded, and pulled out a bottle of whisky. The label was peeling off it at the
corners, probably because it was old. But then everything in Club Belmont was.
The chairs, the glowing walnut wood around the bar, the rich bottles of wine.
Everything but her, Mitch, the blond guy from the House of Lords, and him.

Andros Casstellini.

The
man she had been lusting over for months. The man she’d fantasized about night
after night. Plotting and planning and imagining.
  

“Jeremy
is the guy who mans the stand over there,” Mitch said. “He’s been here forever,
and even though we have a desk in the entrance hall now, they keep him on. I
gave him some computer lessons last year. He has a little laptop hidden there
now. Helps him keep track of things. He’s ancient.”

“That’s
sweet, Mitch,” Lyra said with a smile. “Now, Andros?”

“He’s
looking over here. He looks…tense.”

“Interesting,”
she said because despite sitting as still as possible, just letting her foot
flick back and forth, and smiling like she didn’t have a care in the world,
Lyra was super tense herself. She couldn’t help but be. Everything was on the
line now and she had to admit, as the minutes ticked by, knowing that he was so
close, she was more nervous than she’d imagined she would be.
 

 
“Fifteen minutes,” Mitch added, pulling out a
tumbler for the whisky. “You were off a little, sweetheart.”

Lyra
nodded at Mitch, and felt her heart race a little. “He’s coming over now?”

“Prowling
is a word that springs to mind.”

“You
win the bet then, I guess. I underestimated. That’s interesting, something to
think about.”

He
dropped two chunks of ice in the glass along with a splash of water. “How about
we just call it even?”

“I
never welsh on a bet.”

“Then
how about you let me take you out some time instead? I may not be in Andros’
league but I know how to show a girl a good time.”

She
tilted her head, considering his surprising offer. Mitch was exactly the sort
of guy she
should
be dating. He
worked an okay job, seemed nice enough, and she’d probably enjoy herself with
him. But he wasn’t Andros. He wasn’t her mark, her mission, and she didn’t feel
ever so slightly faint from looking at him. Still, Mitch had kept her company
and she didn’t want to shoot him down, so she lied to him, just like she lied
to them all. “After I’ve dealt with Andros I might do just that.”

He
grinned even as he muttered, “Show time.”

“Espresso
and whatever the lady is having.”

Andros’
voice was exactly as she’d imagined it to be. Low, rich, a hint of his Sicilian
heritage edging the words. Lyra swallowed carefully, super aware of his
presence behind her, and swiveled in her seat. This moment was very important
and she knew it. Despite what people said, first impressions always were, they
could never be done over. She had to make it count.

“Lady?
I’ve never been called that before.”

Andros
smiled slowly the moment their eyes met, and it took everything Lyra had to
keep her cool. Dear God, he was so freaking gorgeous. His photos had not done
him justice, not at all. In the flesh he was a zillion times more handsome.
Black ‘stroke me’ hair, brown ‘eat me up’ eyes, tanned ‘run your fingers over
it’ skin…that was plenty…but there was something else. Maybe it was the
hardness of his jaw, the severe line of his lips, even the broad shoulders.
Whatever. The fact of the matter was Andros was drop dead gorgeous, and already
he was affecting Lyra in exactly the right way. Her heart raced, her fingers
itched, and she was sure her nipples had hardened.

She
wanted him more than she’d imagined she would and that was good. She’d counted
on that being the case, because how could she go through with her plan if she
didn’t?

“I
find that hard to believe,” he said softly. “Lady in red fits quite nicely.”

She
raised an eyebrow. “Original.”

 
“Apt,” he said, nodding at Mitch as he passed
across their drinks. “But if lady in red does not work, how about Lyra instead?
Close enough, I suppose.”

So
he knew her name. That was fast. Faster than she’d anticipated in fact. Seemed
Andros was full of surprises, but no matter. Hadn’t Lyra known from the first
that she’d have to work off the cuff? Run with the changes and be flexible in
her approach? “You got that from where?”

He
shrugged, the movement classically Sicilian. “From the register.”

“Ah.”

He
smiled, making her stomach flip, and nudged her drink across. “Miss Lyra
Matthews recommended by Mr. Andros Casstellini.”

“I like
that.”

“The
fact I apparently recommended you?”

Lyra
leaned back ever so slightly, purposefully maximizing her seated position. Her
tiny hint of cleavage was on show now, and just as she’d planned, Andros’ eyes
flicked down to that shadowy area. His eyes only lingered for a moment but it
was enough, and when they came back to hers she knew without a doubt that he
wanted her.

Just
like she wanted him.

Game, set, and match.

“Our
names together,” she said softly. “Has a nice ring to it don’t you think?”

He
was surprised by that. By her bluntness, maybe? He raised an eyebrow, and shot
her a look that said plenty. A moment later he spoke. Lyra he was sure his
accent had thickened. “I think you should tell me how on earth I recommended
someone, and then seemed to forget that I had.”

“You
don’t want to know that, Andros.”

“I
don’t?”

One
finger on his sleeve, one slight tap, and she pulled back. Their first physical
contact. She wanted more already. “No. It will be far too easy for you if you
find out all my secrets so quickly. A girl has to have a little mystery doesn’t
she?”

“I
think you have plenty of mystery,
Rossa
.”

“I’m
sure we both do.”

Their
gazes held. His mouth tightened, and his eyes darkened. She wondered if he was
hard already. He had to be surely. His big dick—it would
so
be big—pulsing in his pants. Her fingers flexed as she imagined
taking it out of those pants and running her nails along it. A moment later and
he’d run his fingers along her arousal and then they’d…

Lyra
inhaled shakily. She couldn’t afford to think along those lines yet, because it
wasn’t
game, set, and match already.
She’d moved her first pawn was all, and he’d moved two. There was a long way to
go before she brought her queen into play.

Keep your head in the game!

“Dinner,
I think,” she said after a moment, reaching out, and picking up her little
clutch purse. It didn’t escape her notice that her hands were a mite shaky.
“I’m hungry.”

“And
by dinner do you mean the two of us?” he asked.

She
smiled, her heart thudding.
Stay cool. Make
him work
. “I don’t know, Andros. I planned to get something to eat, but if
you’re asking if you can come along then by all means.”

He
reached out, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. They were warm, strong, and
the contact made her feel ever so slightly off balance. She looked up and met
his gaze. His eyes were narrowed, his mouth a hard line. He wasn’t happy, she
realized in a flash. The fact that she knew who he was, that she’d done
something to the register, that she was playing him, and making him play with
her…he did not like it.

But
then she’d factored that into her behavior. Andros Casstellini was a man who
controlled everything around him. In order to put him in the position she
wanted, she had to tilt
him
off
balance. It was the only way this plan of hers was going to work.

 
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice
low and harsh.

She
looked him square in the eye, not giving an inch. “You know exactly what.”

Silence
held between them for a moment, and Lyra felt her chest tighten. Would he take
the bait? Had she pushed and played enough? Finally he spoke, and when he did
the tightness eased, replaced instead by a tingling excitement.

“We’ll
go to
Junction Twenty
,” he said. “It
is not far from here. Get your coat.”

Chapter Four

Andros
couldn’t remember the last time he’d let a woman pick him up. Not since he was
very young, surely. He’d learned early that he liked to be in control of his
relationships, to be the one making the decisions and pushing the buttons, but
tonight? He scowled as he settled into his seat. Tonight he had
let
himself get picked up, because what
else could this be? There was no doubt in his mind exactly what the lady in red
was after.

“I’ve
never been here before.”

He
looked across the table to where Lyra was making herself comfortable. She’d
placed her small bag on the table, twitched her napkin a little, and was now
smiling up at him. She’d smiled in the car too, sat next to him as they were
driven to the restaurant, a secret little smile playing around her lips the
entire time.

He’d
wanted to question her immediately. To ask her what the hell she was up to,
only there was no need, was there? He knew, she knew, and it almost had a
surreal feel to it. So he’d sat, just looking at her, the tension in the car
rising every second. She’d carried on smiling, like she wasn’t as aware of it
as him, like it wasn’t wrapping its tendrils around them both.

A
few moments later and they had arrived. Cool air had flooded them both,
clearing the tension a little, giving him a moment to think.

It
had not helped at all.
 

“It’s
very pretty,” she added. “Very intimate.”

Intimate
. Andros
shifted in his seat. The way her mouth formed the word, the sound of it leaving
those lips…

He
shifted some more, his heart beating a little faster than it had been. She was
so fucking beautiful. He was almost a little baffled by it, and that worried
him. He’d had many beautiful women over the years, and yet none came close to
her.

He
looked carefully at her face, trying to work out what it was in particular that
had him throwing caution to the winds—ditching meetings to have dinner with
her, ignoring the fact, for the moment at least, that she’d somehow done
something to Club Belmont’s register, that she had clearly gone to great
lengths to ensure he noticed her. Oh, she wasn’t the first. He was a very rich
man, and women lusted after him constantly. Arriving at his office naked,
pretending to trip in front of him and twisting their ankle, one had even
jumped out in front of his car.

But
her.

He
leaned back in his chair, and narrowed his eyes. Her skin was tanned, unlike so
many red heads, but still he could see a slight dusting of freckles across the
bridge of her nose. She wore no makeup but some sort of shiny lip-gloss on her
plump lips. Her nose was slightly upturned giving her a stubborn look, and her
eyes were blue. Nothing special about them, not even the ridiculously long
lashes framing them. Add it all up and it shouldn’t have worked—but it did. Her
beauty was sensational. Her hair was a glorious copper color, and there was so
much of it. Tendrils fell and teased her shoulders, one curling along her
collarbone.

Andros
swallowed, and shifted in his seat again.
 

“You’re
staring at me,” she said softly.

“I
am.”

“Why?”

“You
have to ask?”

She
smiled, before shrugging one delicate shoulder. “I guess not.”

“I
imagine many men stare at you often,” he said, the idea of that making Andros
clench his fists, though he had no fucking idea why. “Wherever you go their
eyes follow you.”

“They
do,” she agreed. “It becomes quite annoying after a while.”

“And
yet with me?”

Another
shrug. “I don’t mind. You can stare at me as often as you want.”

“Because
you arranged it so I would.”

A
little dimple appeared on her cheek. Andros found himself abruptly fascinated
by it.

“I
like arranging things how I want them,” she said, drawing his attention back to
the conversation at hand.

“I
bet you do.”

“Something
we have in common I think.”

He
narrowed his eyes, not liking the way she was leading the conversation, and deciding
immediately to put a stop to it. “I suspect we have a lot in common, in some
very specific areas I imagine.”