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locked.”
    “No, it wasn’t.”
    “Yes, it was.”
    “No, it wasn’t.”
    Turner glared at her. “Let’s go with the first question.”
    “Well, obviously you’re not dead.” Matty grinned.
    “I didn’t mean that one. I asked what the hell you were doing in here.”
    She winced. “You said you were sick and I thought you might need help. You’ve been in bed all day.”
    “I’m not that sort of sick. This happens to be the way I like to live. Unsocial hours—remember? I work better at night if I sleep undisturbed during the day.”
    “Oh sorry.”
    “Go away.”
    “Right.” Matty didn’t move.
    “You want to leave Milford Hall and never come back,” he said in a weird, lilting voice.
    “Oh no I don’t.” Matty used the same slow voice to reply.
    He groaned. “You were supposed to be out of here by now.”
    Matty chewed her nail. Be indispensible. “Are you hungry? Would you like me to make you something to eat?”
    “I’m hungry enough to eat you, Red Riding Hood,” he growled. “Better run.”

Chapter Four
     
    The bedroom door closed behind Little Red and Turner sank back onto the bed. The door had been locked. He never, ever made that kind of mistake, and he certainly wouldn’t have forgotten now that George was away and Dava and Gabriel were out of prison. Not that they could burst in on him uninvited, but they could use others who needed no invite. Someone like Matty. So how had she gotten in? Secret passageway? Picked the lock? Turned into mist and drifted through the bloody keyhole?
    Fuck, fuck, fuck.
    Why was she immune to his thrall? He needed George. How could the bloody Izaruba tribe be more important than his boss’s welfare? Turner scowled—well, clearly it was, otherwise George would be there. Then he remembered he didn’t want George here. Nor did he want Matty here. He had to get rid of the tadpole on his own. Turner lifted his head and looked at the large tent his cock had erected under the duvet. He really had to get rid of her.
    What to do first? Shower, food or wank? Turner clenched his jaw. Since when did wank come into his waking routine? His hand closed around his cock and he dragged his fingers up his length and squeezed. He needed to— Turner snapped his eyes open and removed his hand.
    He flung off the duvet, stamped to the shower and turned the dial to cold. When he’d reduced his cock to a quivering shrimp, he turned the water to warm. How the hell could he get rid of her? Well, he could think of several ways, scaring her away with a show of his fangs being top of the list, but none of them made as much sense as pointing out she wasn’t legally entitled to be there. He’d go for “shock and awe” after he’d waved the contract in her face.
    First port of call was the kitchen. Turner wasn’t going to attempt anything when he was hungry.
    That issue quickly resolved, he made for the library.
    One step into the room and Turner froze. The room looked—orderly. The cartons had all gone, his books unpacked and shelved. Oh Christ, all my books. He yanked down The Search for Order . The three books were still inside. Turner slid the box back in place.
    She must have done this while he was sleeping. Trying to help? The act both pleased and annoyed him. He ran his gaze over the lines of books and frowned. No, he was wrong. It totally annoyed him.
    Turner felt her come up behind him, the soft aroma of roses wafting ahead of her, teasing his nostrils, enticing him. Shit.
    “You have some lovely books,” she said. “I like the one with the pictures of polar bears.”
    “The books with words too tricky?”
    She released a strangled laugh.
    “Would you care to explain the system?” Turner stared at the shelves.
    Matty moved in front of him and pointed. “They’re sorted by color.”
    “Ah.” Dear God.
    “And by size.”
    “Mmm.” Turner felt his mouth start to twitch. “It didn’t occur to you to shelve them alphabetically by author name or even