Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (19 page)

But
you didn’t consider the happiness, part of her mind whispered. Fuck the
happiness, the other part screamed, it never lasts anyway, and Lyra swallowed
carefully, accepting the truth of that. This had always been the end game.

It
was sooner than she expected, but the end game nonetheless.
 

“It
is no fault on your part,” Andros added, seemingly oblivious to her churning
thoughts. “Not at all. I simply do not think that our arrangement is right for
me any longer.”

How
she nodded, Lyra was not sure. “Of course.”

“I
have enjoyed our time together.”

Enjoyed.
She looked
down at her hands and was surprised to see them perfectly steady. “Of course.”

Silence
held between them for a moment. It was Andros who broke it, and when he did,
there was an odd note to his voice. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

She
shrugged, a tiny movement, but Lyra wasn’t sure that anything more would work.
Despite her own little internal dose of reality, she was feeling…what?
Unsteady? Deflated? She was not sure. Couldn’t work it out with Andros sat
right across from her, his eyes boring into her, his body so close.

“What
would you like me to say?” she asked.

“Tell
me what you’re thinking,” he demanded.

“I’m
not sure,” she said honestly. “Maybe just wondering where this came from. But
then…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter really does it? The choice is
yours and so…I guess I should pack my things.”

She
made to stand, but he spoke quickly, his words holding her in place. “You are a
beautiful woman, Lyra. Too beautiful perhaps. A man could so easily drown in
your eyes.”

“I—”

“And
that, right there, is the problem.”

“I
don’t understand.”

“I
am not a man who will allow himself to do so,” Andros snapped. “Not now. Not
ever.”

“I
never asked you to.”

 
“Only sometimes such things are impossible to
avoid.”

 
He scowled before standing up and moving
across the room. In a way, his movements reminded her of the previous night.
The same tension, the same heavy emotions in the air, only that couldn’t be
right, could it, because he was letting her go.

Not now. Not ever.

Maybe
she’d confused jealousy with something else? Maybe it had been about the
possession all along? Nothing more than that. Lyra didn’t know. She knew only
that a nasty sort of lump was forming in her throat, that her chest felt tight,
and it was becoming vital that she leave. Immediately.

“Then
I shall get out of your hair,” she said, standing too, and holding her robe
tight around her body.

“Do
not be hasty,” he said. “The apartment is yours until you have secured
somewhere else to live. All of the clothes and such yours too.”

Lyra
swallowed and spoke the next words even though she didn’t want to, even though
something that felt suspiciously like pride was telling her no, but there was
more than just herself to think of. There always had been. Pride counted for
very, very little in the end. “And the jewels?”

He
nodded. “All of it.”

“Thank
you.”

“And
lastly we spoke, did we not, of an end…gift?”

Lyra
shook her head automatically. The jewels would get her the money she needed for
the building work on
The Point
. She
did not need to take any more. Pride? No. Something else in fact. Something
that Lyra did not want to admit to. “There is no need.”

“It
was our agreement,” Andros insisted.

“Yes,
but…” She shook her head some more. “I expected our arrangement to last a lot
longer.”

“How
long, Lyra?” he asked.

“I
do not know,” she admitted.
 
“Longer than
this is all. It would not feel right taking anything else from you.”

“Then
take this at least. I meant to give it to you last night.”

He
stepped forward, dropping a box into her hand. It was small, and blue, and
stamped with a familiar name. “Is it…”

“Yes,
the bracelet to match the set,” Andros said. “I wanted you to have them all.”

“I…I…”

“Flashes
of fire,” he whispered, and the lump in Lyra’s throat seemed to expand to
alarming proportions.

“Thank
you.”

He
nodded. “It is my pleasure. Now come, kiss me goodbye.”

“You’re
leaving right now?” she asked, taking an automatic step forward. It closed the
distance between them so that their bodies were mere inches apart. Lyra could
smell whatever he’d showered in, that scent that forever would make her think
of him. He had a smattering of stubble along his jaw, and she knew it would
darken by the time evening drew in.

You’ll never get to see that again.

Her
stomach lurched.

“I
have a flight in less than an hour,” Andros said.

“You’re
leaving the country?” she asked, her mind spinning, unable to really comprehend
this was happening. That everything had gone wrong so quickly.
 

“I
am returning home for a number of weeks.”

“I
see.”

He
reached up and ran a hand along her cheekbone, before leaning in and placing a
kiss on her parted lips. Lyra shivered at the contact, knowing it would be the
last, and feeling her chest tighten unbearably at the thought.

“I
would ask if you will miss me, Lyra,” he whispered. “But I suspect the answer
is not one I want to hear right now.”

“You
should never assume, Andros.”

“Then
tell me,” he said, taking a step back, putting the distance between them again.
“
Will
you miss me?”

Lyra’s
hand tightened around the jeweler’s box, and she exhaled shakily, the lie
leaving her lips far easier than she imagined it would. “I’m not sure I’ll miss
something I never really had.”

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 fucking 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 fuck and fuck.

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…

“What
are you up to, Lyra?” he whispered. “What?”

But
of course, she wasn’t around to answer. She
wouldn’t
be around, and he did not intend to go looking for her. He had left London for
a reason. Left her for a reason. He could not forget that.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lyra
exited the elevator into the lobby of the skyscraper that was home to one
Dominic Rimeria, taking a deep breath as she did so. Her adrenaline was racing,
her head spinning, and she knew that what she had just done was going to have
repercussions—for both her and her sisters, especially Rachel.

She
shuddered slightly as she fell into one of the chairs lining the large window
that looked out onto the city street. The whole experience had been far more
fraught than she’d expected it to be, and her stomach was roiling with the
horrid feeling that always followed a burst of adrenaline. She needed just a
moment before she began the walk to the Tube, and why not take it here, in such
plush surroundings? Clutching her bag to her, she did just that, legs crossed
at the ankles, her heart racing.