Claimed by the Sicilian Tycoon (11 page)

“That’s
right.”

“Just
put a little x next to the ones you like.” She handed across a pen and Lyra
took it despite the fact that her mind was not on the clothes, beautiful though
they all undoubtedly were. She wanted to know instead exactly when her personal
shopper had fucked the man she was now fucking. In fact, that question became
suddenly very important to her.

“How
long have you worked for Andros?” Lyra asked as she ticked against the dresses.
Pink, red, why not have the black one too?

“I
do not work directly for him,” Melissa said, pointing to a hideous purple
dress. “That one will look very good against your skin.”

“Not
my color. So who do you work for?”

Melissa
paused a moment before answering, and when she did her voice was noticeably
colder. “My firm specializes in shopping for a number of clients. We got the
call early this morning to assist Andros, and naturally, as one of our more
important clients, I decided to come myself.”

Lyra
wondered if Melissa had expected to see Andros, or if she was simply scoping
out the competition. Either way she could back the fuck off, Lyra thought. For
now Andros was hers. Soon, in a month or so, Melissa could have him back, but
in the meantime, whilst they were together, she could not afford for him to
lose interest and start seeing someone else. Because of the mission, she
thought, and nodded inwardly to herself. But then the image of Melissa’s skinny
arms wrapped around Andros’ toned waist hit, and she exhaled sharply. Lyra did
not like that thought at all. Not one little bit.

“And
how long ago did you fuck him?”

“Excuse
me?”

Lyra
dropped the binder and gave Melissa a look. It was the look Lyra had used on
people who would eat this woman for breakfast and spit her out a moment later.
It said,
don’t fucking mess with me, rich
bitch.
“Let’s not play the game,” Lyra said. “It’s pointless.”

“This
is completely unprofessional,” Melissa snapped.
 
“And none of your business.”

“You
coming here is unprofessional.”

“I
am merely doing a favor for an old friend.”

She
placed a deliberate emphasis on the word
friend
and Lyra’s heart slowed slightly. She wasn’t even sure when it had begun to
race. Maybe when the image of Andros fucking her personal shopper came to mind?
But no, it was fine; in fact it had backfired completely. Though Melissa had
tried to suggest a closeness with that word, Lyra was a whole lot more
perceptive than many people were. It was a trick she’d picked up in the dark
days, when judging an adult’s mood was necessary to ensure she and her sisters
were safe or fed. Melissa may have fucked the Sicilian once but it was nothing
that had meant anything or lasted. That fact was written in the stiff line of
her skinny body, the frown on her lips, even the way she held herself.

“Friend?”
Lyra asked, allowing herself one small smile.

“That
was what I said,” Melissa replied, her teeth practically grinding against one
another.

“That’s
debatable.”

The
other woman glared, gestured to the binders, then glared some more. “Have you
made your choices?”

Lyra
shook her head, and grabbed the binder with the shoes in. A couple of ticks
later she passed it back across. “He’s mine right now. You should accept that.”

“Andros
is never anyone’s,” Melissa hissed. “If you knew him at all you would know
that.”

“But
he’s never sent a personal shopper to buy for a woman before has he? Which is
exactly why you came yourself.”

Bingo.
The other
woman flushed as she gathered up her folders.

“You
won’t hang on to him for long. Andros is incapable of sticking to one woman at
a time.”

Lyra
shrugged and stood too, purposefully walking forward so that Melissa had no
choice but to make her way to the door. “I don’t want him for long, but for now
this is how it is.”

“We’ll
see.”

“That
we will.” She opened the door as wide as it would go, and stood back to let the
personal shopper through first. “Oh and, Melissa, don’t send the purple. I’ll
send it right back.”

Chapter Twelve

When
Andros arrived back at the apartment, he was in a contemplative mood. The
background check on Lyra had uncovered some things that unsettled him. Nothing
of a criminal nature, nothing to worry that she might be planning anything
shady, it matched what she had told him in more ways than one.

She
was poor.

Painfully
so.

He
was not familiar with the area of London that she lived, but some checks on a few
government websites had darkened his mood considerably. Lyra lived in an area
he doubted he would ever have cause to visit. She was more than poor. She was
deprived, and she was doing whatever was necessary to give herself a helping
hand out of it.

He admired
that.

Had
he too not come from extremely humble surroundings? His parents had been poor,
his whole family in fact. It was only when he moved to the States in his early
teens, on a student visa that he’d worked himself beyond endurance to secure, that
he had started to earn any money. He still remembered working fifteen,
sometimes twenty-hour days. Investing the little bits of money he made, always
on the lookout for an opportunity here an opportunity there. He’d had drive,
and he’d had the brains to make that drive into something.

And
Lyra? He pulled a key out of his pocket, and opened the door. She had brains,
no doubt about that, but for some reason she had chosen not to use them in the
same way as he had. Instead, she used her looks and her delectable body to make
a better life for herself.

Did
he disapprove?

“Andros?
Is that you?”

“It
is,” he called out, then—almost tripping over a half dozen boxes and bags—he
followed her voice into the bedroom. She was not sitting on the bed like he
expected, but the heaviness in the air told him all he needed to know. He
walked through to the en suite, narrowly avoiding more boxes as he did so.

The
sight that greeted him took his breath away.

Lyra
was lying in the tub, her hair clipped on top of her head, bubbles covering
everything but one bare leg that she was soaping.

Dios.

Up
and down she went, her hands running along the skin. As he watched, she
travelled up to the top of her thighs, her eyes catching his, locking and
teasing.

“Do
you need help?” he asked, his own voice sounding unfamiliar to him, low and
harsh, and he was so fucking hard already.

“Yes,
please.”

She
held out a hand with the soap. He took it before kneeling down next to the tub.
He seemed to spend a lot of time in her presence on his knees Andros thought,
and resolved to flip that situation around at the earliest opportunity.

He
took her other leg, running the soap along it, her skin so warm and soft
beneath his hands. How could he disapprove of any action of hers? She was
exquisite. No man could resist her charms, least of all him.

“You
could join me?” she suggested and though he wanted to Andros shook his head.

“We
have no time.”

“We
have all night, don’t we?”

“No.
You are to accompany me to a dinner.”

She
blew some bubbles from her fingers and nodded slowly. “That’s why you sent the
woman?”

“Indeed.”

Frowning
and lifted one arm for him to wash. “But I thought we agreed we would just…”

“Just?”

She
shrugged. “Fuck.”

How
he wanted to. “This is unavoidable, a business meeting, and it makes sense for
you to come.”

“Why?”

“Because
it will be dull, and I can amuse myself by imagining my cock deep in your
throat,” Andros admitted. If part of him was hoping to shock her, he was
disappointed. She laughed delightedly.
 

“Ah,
I see.”

“I
have many such meetings,” he said, “and often I take a woman with me.”

“And
do you amuse yourself by throat fucking them?”

Andros
shrugged, sure that Lyra would not want to know the answer to that, since women
were often jealous, were they not? And she was fire enough without that added
complication. “Sometimes.”

She
blew some more bubbles. One settled on his hand. “I bet. You just call them up,
huh, and they come running?”

“If
needs be,” he said. “And yes, they always do. Only now I have you to accompany
me.”

“I’m
not your girlfriend, though.”

“No,”
he agreed. “You are one better.”

“How
so?”

“It
occurs to me that when you suggested our arrangement, my immediate response was
no,” Andros said, the thoughts that had nudged him all day giving him another
jolt. “I did not like the thought of having a woman in my keeping,” He waved a
hand. “Not because of the morals behind it. I have no issue with that.”

“You’re
sure? Because I wondered about that.”

“I’m
sure. You are, as you said, using your considerable talents for your own
benefit. How could I disapprove of that? It would be hypocritical. God knows
not everything I have done over the years has been strictly legitimate. Not in
the early days at least.”

“You’re
known as ruthless,” she said slowly, lifting herself slightly out of the water
so that her rosy nipples were evident. His stomach muscles clenched, and when
he spoke it was through gritted teeth.

“Yes,
one has to be in business.”

 
“And in your personal life too.”

Andros
took one nipple between his fingers, watching, almost in fascination, as it
budded immediately. “Yes, that too is true. But now there is you, and with a
day to think it over, the idea has grown on me. You know exactly where we
stand, what I expect, just as I know what you expect. There are no falsehoods
between us, no unrealistic expectations. Yes, the more I consider it, the more
comfortable I am with our arrangement.”

She
smiled some more and arched her back. “That makes me happy. You know what’d
make me even happier?

“Tell
me.”

“Your
cock, my throat…”

Andros
laughed, completely, and abruptly, fascinated by the idea of filling her mouth
and watching her eyes widen as she struggled with his length. “We have no
time,” he said, even as his cock throbbed. “We need to leave in a half hour. I
had planned to get here sooner, but by the time I went home and changed, well,
time escaped me.”

She
pouted and he leaned forward to bite along her lower lip.

“Do
not tempt me,
Rossa
. When I fuck your
mouth, I do not want to have to worry about appointments and meetings. I want
to take my time.”

The
pout turned into a sigh and she sat up, her skin all wet and pink, her hair
curling in little strands around her shoulders. “So is tonight an official
mistress duty then?”

“It
is.”

“Then
I will get ready. You should leave or else I
will
tempt you into staying.”

When
she emerged from the bedroom fifteen minutes later Andros immediately regretted
not mouth fucking her. She looked…were there even words? Her hair was loose,
tumbling down her back and shoulders, caressing her skin. In the dim light of
the room it looked like burned copper, but he knew once it was under brighter
lights it would be shockingly red.

She
wore a pink dress, hot pink, and it shimmied around the tops of her thighs,
leaving inch after inch of bare leg on display. Heels finished off the look,
and just like last night, they were huge, adding several inches to her height.
A wrap was laid over her back and arms; it too was pink.

“What
do you think?” she asked, giving him a twirl. The wrap reached the cleft of her
ass, but he scowled anyway. He approved of her covering up the skin up top, but
the legs. They just went on and on.

“I
think I should invest in a nun’s habit.”

“I
was never very religious.”

“That
I do not doubt.”

“We
had this really pervy vicar at one of our homes; he was always trying to drag
us into the confession box. Put me off organized religion for life.”

“And
did he succeed?” Andros demanded, already planning how he might hunt the man
down.

She
grinned, her dimple appearing. “Nope. Penny jimmied the lock one time. He was
stuck in there for hours and hours. It was hilarious.”

“Your
other sister.”

“Yeah,
she’s a bit of a whiz with locks.”

“Something
tells me I do not want to know the rest.”

“I
would agree.”