Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (12 page)

“Then
let us go,” Andros said, his control shaky in the extreme. “My driver is
waiting.”

It
did not take them long to arrive at the restaurant, a French eatery that had
been receiving rave reviews. Lyra gave her wrap to the doorman, making Andros
hiss slightly as she turned and he got a full view of the dress in question. It
was backless, dipping all the way down, and showing off every inch of her
tanned skin.

“I
shall burn that dress when we return home,” he snapped.

“It’s
pretty.”

“It
is too revealing.”

“You
want me covered up?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

He
scowled, because yes, in a way she was right, he liked seeing her looking sexy,
outdoing every other woman within a hundred mile radius, but at the same time…

Andros
took her arm in his, pulling her close, letting the scent that was unique to
her wash over him, and led her into the dining room.

The
moment they entered, it was like letting off a fucking firecracker, and he, and
every other man in the room knew it. Eyes swiveled and narrowed, positions were
adjusted—he could see them—looking, wanting—and it angered him. It wasn’t even
like Lyra was the only female present. Women of all shapes and sizes milled
around, some very beautiful, some relying heavily on cosmetics, and yet none
even came close to her flame.

It
had to be the hair, he thought. It was so bright, so vivid, if he hadn’t known
better he would have said it was fake. But he’d seen proof, knew it was as
natural as every other bit of her.

“They
are all staring at you,” he grated.

“I
told you in situations like this that they do,” she said, and her voice was
brimming with amusement.

“Situations
like this?”

“When
I’m not at home I mean, when I’m glammed up, it’s different then.”

“How
so?”

“Well
if this was in the area where I live, I wouldn’t even look like this so it
wouldn’t be an issue.”

Andros
thought of what he had read about that area and scowled. “How would you look?”

She
shrugged. “Jeans, a hoodie, hair in a pony. I wouldn’t get too much attention
looking like that.”

“I
find that very hard to believe.”

“Well
yes, but when you’ve lived somewhere a while people stop looking and they
eventually get the message. This, however,” she laughed. “This is a whole other
ball game.”

 
“This is funny to you?”

 
“It is. Usually by now several of them would
have tripped over their own feet trying to get to me. I’d have a row full of
drinks ready and waiting. I’d be fighting the fuckers off.”

“But
now…”

“You’re
here. Right next to me and look at them, they won’t dare.”

“I
will snap the fingers of any man who attempts to touch you,” he growled, that
same anger still flowing. It was primitive, a reaction to others coveting what
was his—he knew that and accepted it. Right now Lyra was his and that was that.

His mistress. Tucked away for him alone.

“
Okayyyy…”

“You
are mine, are you not?” he growled. “Mine alone.”

“I
am. That is what we agreed.”

“Well
then.”

They
made their way over to the table where his guests sat. Andros kept Lyra close
to him, her arm in his, her body rubbing along his side every time they
squeezed past too many tables tucked together.

 
“Who are the stiffs?” she whispered, and
despite himself Andros grinned.

“Reginald
and Barclay Peterson. Blue bloods.”

“Pervs?”

“Probably.
Regardless, they own a company I want. They’ve agreed to sell, so this meeting
is simply closure.”

“Let’s
get this over with, then.”

Introductions
were made, and Andros stiffened when the eyes of Reginald and Barclay fell upon
Lyra. Both men’s eyes widened, both swept over her, and both were practically
panting to take her fucking hand.

He
did not allow it.

Instead,
Andros pulled out her chair and settled Lyra into it, that possessive anger
hitting again at the thought of either man’s pallid skin touching hers.
 

“Are
you joining us?” Reginald asked, waving at the food in front of them.

Originally,
Andros had meant to, but Barclay had his eyes fixed firmly on Lyra’s cleavage.
He decided there and then not to stay any longer than was necessary. He would
make the meeting as short as possible, and then he could sprint Lyra away, they
could eat somewhere with a bit more space, before heading back to her apartment
where, he decided, he would eat
her
until
she begged him to stop.

“We
have reservations elsewhere.”

“Of
course, old chap…”

They
launched into their closure discussion. Lyra sat patiently by his side, hands
in her lap, a slight smile on her face. Every time one of the men moved to
speak to her, she fluttered her eyelashes, and turned to Andros as though she
didn’t have a thought in her head.

Her
actions amused him, because it was so far from the reality of her personality,
and yet at the same time he wanted to reach across the table and cuff both men
around the head. By the time the meeting was through Andros was just about
ready to do just that. Perhaps Lyra sensed it, because, just as he opened his
mouth to say something that would likely leave his deal dead in the dust, she
turned to him and frowned.

“I’m
not feeling well, Andros. Take me home?”

Her
brow scrunched, she lifted a hand to fan herself gently, and really, it was a
perfect show. Except he could see the twinkle in her eyes, the laughter
brimming in their depths.

“Of
course,
Rossa
.” He turned to the
brothers. “Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us?”

They
made a rapid escape, Andros doing his best to ignore the gawking looks from the
other men in the room, choosing instead to keep Lyra practically welded to him.

“I’m
losing feeling in my arm,” she whispered as they got outside and his driver
pulled up.

“My
apologies.” He relaxed his grip, before asking, “How did you know?”

“That
you were bored shitless?”

He
grinned. “That’s not quite what I meant.”

“I
knew it was time to blow the joint, put it that way,” she said fluttering her
wrap around her shoulders. “Plus I’m starving.”

“Then
we’ll eat.”

“Andros…”

“What?”

“Nothing…it
doesn’t matter.”

He
sighed and opened the door of the Bentley for her. “Come, tell me.”

“I
just wondered where we were going to get food from.”

He
waved a hand around, taking in the streets around them. Numerous lights were
twinkling, discreet signs advertising this restaurant or that. The choices were
endless. “Wherever you would like.”

“Truly?
Wherever?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then
can we get some fried chicken?”

Chapter Thirteen

She
took him to one of her favorite places—well, one of the sisters’ favorite
places actually. They rarely got to go very often because the prices, to them
at least, were a little steep. To Andros they would amount to very little.

Located
by Kings Cross, Benny’s Fried Chicken was tucked away in a rundown little side
alley. One blinking red light advertised its presence, and Lyra’s stomach
clenched the moment they pulled up on the main street and she spotted it. When
the car door opened the smells assaulted her, and her stomach practically ate
itself.

“Oh,
God, can you smell that?” she moaned. “I’m starving.”

Andros
frowned. “If you were hungry why did you not say so earlier?”

“I
was waiting, and it’s fine. I often don’t eat much during the day.”

“But
you had lunch?” he asked.
 

Lyra
shrugged as she slithered out of Andros’ car. The driver, was, as always,
perfectly silent, simply giving his employer a nod. Perhaps they communicated
through gestures and grunts, Lyra thought, because the man seemed to be
permanently on hand, materializing out of nowhere.

“Lyra?”
Andros prompted, as he held out a hand.

She
took it, steadying herself on her impossibly high heels. “The apartment doesn’t
have any food in.”

“But…there
is a shop on the bottom floor.”

“I
know.”

“Why
did you not purchase yourself something?” he demanded. “Or order something from
the personal shopper. That is their job. To get you whatever you need.”

Lyra
almost snorted at the idea of sending Melissa off to get her a sandwich. The
woman would probably spit in it. “It was fine. I had coffee and some milk.”

“You
have not eaten all day?” he asked and he sounded aghast.
 
“Good God,
Rossa
, why did you not go and buy yourself something?”

She
shrugged again, and watched the driver pull over into one of the bays opposite
the alley. He was so going to get ticketed, Lyra thought. London was a
nightmare for parking. “Why don’t you have a bodyguard?”

“What?”

“I
was just thinking. You’re super rich, shouldn’t you be surrounded by security?”

Andros
frowned as he squeezed her hand to pull her into the alley. “Larsson is my
bodyguard as well as my driver. We do fine. I am not well known in the media.
But look, do not change the subject. Food. Speak.”

It
seemed she was going to have to be honest again, and Lyra sighed a little
inside.
 
“Well…I only have so much money
on me, and well, I didn’t want to waste it on food. It’s emergency money.”

“You
are serious?”

“Yes,
Andros,” she said, hunger making her a little snappier than she would usually
be. “Obviously I am not rolling in cash, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to
look after me would I?”

His
eyes widened as he took in her meaning, and Lyra’s stomach gave a little flip.
He thrust a hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. A moment later and a
wad of cash fell into her hand. “Here.”

She
looked down at it, shocked by how much was there. Shocked that he’d given her
actual cash. She’d merely been hinting that perhaps he could have some food
delivered…not this…this was… Lyra shook her head, holding the money out. “What
are you doing? I don’t need that.”

Andros
placed the wallet back in his pocket and nodded in the direction of the chicken
shop. “Of course you do. As you say it is part of the agreement that I look
after you.”

Lyra
clenched her hands around the money, and at last—perhaps it had been inevitable
that it was going to happen—felt that nasty sting in her chest. It was the same
one she’d been used to when some rich person told her she hadn’t cleaned the
floor properly, or someone sent her back with a drink for mixing it wrong.

“Andros,”
she whispered. “This is really embarrassing. I did not mean for you to give me
money. I just thought perhaps you could arrange for some groceries to be
delivered to the apartment.”

He
closed her fist around the cash, and with his other hand lifted her chin. “No,
what is embarrassing is you starving all day and me not even considering the
fact.”

“I’d
hardly call it starving, and besides I’ve gone way longer without a decent
meal.”

“As
have I,” he said, and she could see from the look in his eyes that he was not
joking. Her very early research on Andros had not given her much. A self-made man,
he had come from humble beginnings, that much was reported, but as he himself
had said, the media did not pay much attention to him. Maybe because he owned a
whole lot of it? “And it will please me for you to have cash on hand,” he
added.

The
idea of being able to go and buy some groceries was persuasive, making Lyra’s
embarrassment wobble a little. The kiss he then planted on her lips wobbled it
even more.

“Take
the money,” he insisted when he pulled back.

“But—”

“You
can buy us dinner. How does that sound?”

It
was easy after that to simply nod her head, and hand in hand they walked up the
alley to Benny’s. Lyra wasn’t sure what made her turn around, but she did, and
Andros’ driver was right behind them.

There
was a queue in the shop. Late night revelers, people just grabbing a takeaway.
A bunch of the woman turned and gave Andros admiring glances, but few of the
men turned to her. Rich men, that was what she attracted. For some reason her
looks worked on them, especially the blue bloods. But everyday kind of guys,
like the ones in the queue? Like the ones on her estate? They barely gave her a
second look. Either they thought her too out of their league, or they were put
off by her beauty.