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

by Christi Caldwell

than people? With a sigh she let the curtain go and rescued the ledger at the top of the pile, along with one of the many pairs of spectacles that littered the club. She studied her glasses, fiddling with the wire frames. She’d been so content with managing the books that she’d not given true thought to what she wanted her future to be. With the increasing limits placed on her movements inside and outside the club, she’d begun to chafe at those boundaries imposed. For the vital role she contributed to the success of the club, she was still largely . . . powerless. With that absolute lack of control, she’d come to appreciate everything she did hunger for: the ability to go where she wished, the freedom to speak to whomever she wanted, and the right to play a public role in the running of the club, not play in the carefully guarded secret it had been. Shoving aside the brewing frustration, Helena put her spectacles on, collected the ledger, and made her way across the room. There was no room or place for woolgathering at the Hell and Sin, and most especially not when her reports were still unfinished. Helena climbed into the massive four-poster bed and in the dim light cast by the fire in the hearth, reviewed the previous year’s liquor expenses. The faint ticking of the porcelain clock at the side of her bed marked the passing moments in a grating, staccato rhythm, cutting across her efforts. Unbidden, her gaze drifted from the page over to the door, as the stranger’s visage...