The Rogue's Wager (Sinful Brides #1)(31)

Ryker, however, remained where he stood. “I was looking for you earlier. Niall, escort her to my office.” His was a command more than anything else.

She stared, perplexed, at his retreating back. Helena pasted a wry smile on her lips and looked to Niall, who at six feet tall nearly met her gaze squarely. “I expect this is important for him to call me away from my daily responsibilities.”

“You know your brother.” Niall gave her a gentle smile, and she bit her cheek. Calum, Niall, they each wore the same regretful look. Of all her brothers, however, Niall had always been the one easiest with his grins, and freer with his words.

“Why is he looking for me?” she asked bluntly, as they fell into step.

“It’s not my place to say.” Which meant he knew.

Very well. He’d be stingy with his words this time. “But he could not be bothered to wait for me?” she shot back.

Niall lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “He has someone waiting for him in his office, and you know Ryker and punctuality.”

Yes, it was why she’d known when she’d overslept, with Robert in her bed, that questions would ensue. Dread mingled with panic. “Who is he meeting with?” It is the man he’s hired in my stead. She battled down the fear of that possibility.

“You’ll find out, Helena,” he said, bringing them to a stop outside Ryker’s office. Mayhap he feared any further questions, because as she opened her mouth with another, he shoved the door.

Helena stepped inside.

Her gaze went first to Ryker, seated behind his desk, his hard face a deadened mask. But that impenetrable, coldly emotional person he’d always proven to be was not who called her attention. Rather, it was the smiling, portly, vaguely familiar gentleman seated in the too-small chair across from Ryker. She searched his heavily jowled face for a hint of knowing.

The man’s smile widened on her, and she shifted her gaze away, unnerved by the stranger’s scrutiny. Who was this man that Ryker would call her here even now? He is your replacement . . . What was she without her numbers? She fought to order her thoughts.

Wordlessly, Ryker motioned to the vacant seat.

With wooden steps, Helena walked to the chair and perched on the edge. She stared expectantly.

And in this parallel universe where Ryker went looking for her and commanded control of all situations, the stranger spoke. “You have the look of your mother.”

Helena stiffened. Well, that had not been what she’d expected from this man. She flicked a frigid stare over the insolent stranger. “Then, you did not know my mother, sir,” she said in frosty tones. Just a couple of inches over five feet, with pale blonde tresses, the only hint of similarity between mother and daughter was their green eyes. All traces stopped there. How dare this nobleman enter her brother’s office and spout his flawed likenings?

A twinkle lit his eyes.

The man was a bloody lackwit, and if Ryker hired him in her stead, he was an equal fool.

“You’ve her spirit and courage.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks and she turned, angling her shoulder in a deliberately dismissive movement. “You were looking for me, Ryker,” she snapped.

Ryker peered at her through dark lashes. “You’ve given me reason to question your safety here.”

Robert. She cast a pointed look at the toff beside her. “I hardly think this merits discussion in front of a stranger,” she said, proud of the even deliverance.

Ryker leaned back in his high-backed chair and laid his palms on the arms of his seat. “I’ve allowed you to remain here . . .” Allowed me to remain here? “. . . confident that you will be safe.” From Diggory. The name hung on the air between them.

“Oh.” She stretched out that single syllable. “Here I thought I remained because I managed your books so flawlessly.” And because I’m your bloody sister. Her nails dug vicious crescents into her palms. Damn her brother for being the cold, emotionless bastard he was.

“You have become increasingly frustrated with your circumstances here.”

How could she not? She gritted her teeth. Clara. Calum. Adair. In their broken confidences, they’d all betrayed her. Where were the codes of honor they’d discovered in the streets? But then, you’re just Helena Banbury to them. Ryker is master, not to be crossed. “I am not having this discussion with a stranger present.” He’d question her judgment? She looked to the now solemn stranger.

The older man made to rise but her brother waved him back to his chair.

“Your lapse in judgment has proven your weakness.” She jerked, feeling as though he’d slapped her. The marks on her back, face, and hands were testament of her strength. A woman never forgot the hell that shaped her. “That weakness would be your end, Helena. Given your error—”

“It was a single mistake,” she snapped. A large, horrible mistake.

“And the increased risk you face,” he continued as though she’d not spoken. “I’ve come to a decision.” A decision. His decision. Not hers. Not anything she’d been consulted on.

Her mind skidded away from the finality in his statement, clinging instead to something safer. “The increased risk I face? Is this about Diggory?” she asked, damning the slight quaver to that name which only strengthened her brother’s argument.

“Given all that,” he said over her. “I found this is the ideal time for you to determine precisely what you want,” Ryker said in his gravelly tones, bringing her back from her musings.