Yes, I could definitely get used to this.

Will said I was the boss, and could I help it if my subconscious decided that the place it wanted to be was curled up against his side with one arm across his stomach? And possibly one leg might have draped over his thigh too. Four nights, and my body knew its place. Was Will awake? I risked a glance upwards and saw him looking back at me. Busted.

Not that I really cared, especially when he pulled me all the way on top of him and gave me a good-morning kiss. A little tongue, a lot of heat, and my body responded in ways I never thought it would. Will chuckled, running his thumbs over traitorous nipples covered only by the thin cotton of the pyjamas I'd bought in town yesterday.

We hadn't got naked with each other yet. Will pushed me every day, but only a gentle nudge each time. On Boxing Day, it was his hand on my bottom. Yesterday, he'd held my hand while we shopped. And today? He swirled his thumbs around the pebbled tips, and a mewl escaped from my lips.

"We need to work on that, Nia. I want you moaning my name."

"Did anyone ever tell you what a big ego you've got, Will Lawson?"

"Nope. But they might have mentioned my big—"

I kissed him before he got the word out. I knew exactly what he'd been going to say, and he wasn't lying. I could feel it hard against my belly. But I wasn't ready for that yet. I knew it, and so did Will. He never pushed me further than I could take. And this time, it was him who broke the kiss.

"Much as I'd love to tease you all day, it's Monday morning and we've got work to do."

Yes, the case. Or cases, now, seeing as we also had the arson at the flat to look into. Will had promised he wouldn't let that drop.

For the last two days, we'd pushed the nightmare of real life away. On Boxing Day, we stayed in the house while RJ and Shannon went into town. Somehow, they managed to buy clothes, food for all of us, and a new cot-bed for Aisling without killing each other, although they were still bickering by the time they got home. And I was happy to see that. With Slick Dick, Shannon had acted meek, compliant, always eager to please. I half suspected Will was right and she did secretly like RJ, but at least she wasn't rolling over and playing the doormat this time. And RJ was still sleeping on the sofa.

Yesterday, it had been my and Will's turn to shop. We didn't buy a lot—neither of us had the money, and until Shannon and I found a new place to live, we didn't need much beyond the basics. Clothes, shoes, and toiletries. I had a secret too. I wanted the insurance company to drag their heels over the flat, because I really, really liked sleeping in Will's bed at night.

Except now I had to get out of it because work was calling.

"What's the plan?"

"I need to speak to the police and find out what's going on with your flat. At least Chris Turner isn't the lead on that case, so I might not feel the urge to punch someone every five minutes."

"And Aiden?"

"Yeah, we need to see if he's home yet. And if you're feeling up to it, head to Daylesford Hall and speak to Helene while you work your shift."

Hurrah. My home was a charred box, somebody wanted me dead, and today I got to go and speak to my favourite ghost. Only Will's hand on my hip stopped me from necking back Night Nurse like water under the desert sun and burrowing back under the duvet.

"Do I have to?" I groaned, already knowing the answer but wishing I could shift to a parallel universe where twenty hours of sleep was the norm and Will's bedroom was the only place that existed.

"We need to solve Helene's murder. It's my only paying case at the moment, and I can't afford to string it out." He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. "This is the first time in years I've wished I still had my trust fund."

"I'm so sorry I brought all this mess to your door."

"Don't be. I've got you, and as long as we don't starve, we'll be okay."

"I'll need to buy more clothes at some point too."

"Nah, you won't. I quite like the idea of you being naked."

Oh, that dirty git... "Could get kind of chilly while I'm at Daylesford Hall, though."

Will gave me a lopsided grin, as if there wasn't a sex fiend hidden beneath his smooth exterior. "Not only will I let you wear clothes for that, I'll escort you to and from the house of horrors and protect your honour." His smile dropped. "I'm just worried that the two problems are connected."

"You mean the fire and Helene?"

"Or Arthur. We've been poking around into two murders, and Aiden's in the wind. Sure, that visit from your friendly neighbourhood firebug could be a coincidence, but I'm not convinced."

My blood didn't just run cold—spiky ice crystals needled at me from the inside out.

"You really think so?"

"I hope not, but..."

Well, shit. "I'll be more careful. I used to be paranoid, but since I got to England, I've let my guard down."

"Shannon's back to work tomorrow, and RJ's going to take her and pick her up every day. He works flexible hours—one of the perks of owning the company."

"Does she know this?"

"Which part?

"Either of them."

"He hasn't told her yet, so if you hear yelling..."

As if on cue, Shannon's screech of, "No way!" followed by a door slamming made us both chuckle.

Perhaps I should feel bad for her, but no. RJ was a good guy, and if she ever saw past his money, I was pretty sure she'd do more than like him.

***

"Helene, we're not saying Aiden definitely did kill you, but the fact is, he's disappeared."

Will tried to be the voice of reason as I put my fingers in my ears and slid my back all the way down the wall until I landed on my bottom. Five minutes of yelling, and we'd got nowhere.

"I take it she's being loud?" Will said.

"I definitely need those earplugs."

The dead might not be able to smell or taste or feel, but there was nothing wrong with their vocal chords. When they passed over, they lost half of their senses but kept every last aspect of their stunning personalities.

And Helene had gone from white-hot angry to sheepish to tearful to peeved in the time it took most people to drink a cup of coffee. Or wine. Make that wine. I wasn't sure whether to nominate her for an Oscar or offer pharmaceutical help.

"Look, Helene, I'm not in the mood for this. Someone tried to kill me on Christmas Eve, I'm now homeless, and there's a possibility that the person who burned my flat down is the same person who murdered you. So if you can't see that we're trying to help you here and give us a little assistance, I'm out."

I glanced over at Will, and now he looked pissed off too. What did I say?

"You're not homeless," he muttered.

Dammit, don't get oversensitive, Will. I laid a hand on his arm in an attempt to placate at least one person.

"I'm more grateful than I can put into words that you're letting me stay with you. I just meant that my flat was gone, and all my belongings too."

Helene gave one more shuddering sniffle. "Did that really happen?" she asked Will. "A fire?"

I blew out a long breath and stared at the ceiling, the little self-control I had hanging on by a frayed thread.

"I'm not a liar, Helene. And unlike some people, I don't conceal important truths either."

Not the ones I thought people could find out about, anyway.

Her ire toned down a notch, and she clasped her hands in front of her in a gesture that might have been contrite if not for her clenched teeth. People like Helene weren't sorry. They were only sorry that they got called out on their lies or rudeness or stupidity. And right now, she was wondering how to avoid answering Will's questions while at the same time keeping us onside to do her dirty work. I just knew it.

And I'd had enough.

"Ten seconds, Helene." Honestly, this felt like bargaining with a toddler. I'd done the whole countdown thing with Aisling more than once. "Ten seconds, and I'm done. I've got more important things to do with my time than listen to you make excuses for Aiden. Anyone would think you didn't want your killer to get caught."

"How dare you! Of course I want him caught. I want him dead!"

"Ten. Nine. Eight."

"It wasn't Aiden!"

"Seven. Six. Five."

"Fine. Aiden was out scouting for hotels that evening, okay? We needed a new place to meet."

Finally, now we were getting somewhere. I relayed the information to Will.

"Which hotels?" he asked.

"I don't know. He didn't tell me. But it was someplace farther away than Lanefield Park."

"Why? Did room service burn dinner?"

"We almost got caught. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

I left off the snarky comment when I told Will what she'd said.

"Who by?"

"Marshall Owens, and a woman who wasn't his wife."

"Who?"

"One of the non-executive directors," Will said when I repeated Helene's revelation. "I've only talked to him by phone." Then back to Helene. "Did he see you?"

"I don't think so. Aiden spotted him first, and we hid in the emergency stairwell. Marshall doesn't do stairs, the lazy oaf. He threw a fit last year when he came for a board meeting here and the lift was out of order."

"Did you recognise the woman?"

"No. And neither did Aiden, but we only got a quick glance."

"Can you describe her?"

"Blonde. Thin. Younger than me, if I had to guess. She was carrying a Mulberry Bayswater bag in Oxblood Polished Embossed Croc." Helene shrugged, dismissive. "But I suppose it could have been a fake."

That small gesture told me that Helene wouldn't dream of carrying a knock-off handbag. Good thing she never saw me with the Houis Wuitton clutch Shannon gave me for my birthday last April. One of her colleagues had been selling them, and they were so appallingly awful she'd forked out a fiver so we could both have a good laugh. Now it was ash, and I couldn't get too heartbroken about that.

Will chuckled when I told him what Helene had said, but only for a second. His face quickly grew serious again.

"Did you tell anyone you saw them?"

"Of course not. I'd have been a bit of a hypocrite, wouldn't I? Seeing as Aiden and I were sneaking around too. Although..."

She trailed off, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping at her.

"Although what, Helene?"

"Well, maybe... Aiden and I discussed it when we got to our room, and we thought...we thought Marshall might have paid for her company. She had that look about her. Short skirt, kind of trashy."

I started to roll my eyes. Stopped. Then realised Helene couldn't see me and went right ahead.

"Did it not occur to you that if Marshall did see you and realised you saw him, it might have given him the perfect motive for murder?"

"Marshall? No way. He's, like, fifty."

"Good grief, Helene. Fifty's not that old. Believe me, a man that age can still do plenty of damage."

I'd seen that first-hand in Syria. One of the rebel leaders had been closer to sixty, and I saw him hunt down men half his age and kill them with a pocketknife. On one memorable occasion, he'd used his bare hands, choking the man until his eyes bulged so much I thought they'd pop right out. I'd been hiding, so close I could see the dirt ingrained under his fingernails. Three minutes, it took the man to die, and I hadn't breathed that whole time.

"What did she say?" Will asked.

I told him, and his eye roll was accompanied by a muttered, "For fuck's sake."

"Exactly."

Will's hiss of breath was like a gas leak—liable to be explosive. "Next time, Helene, do me a favour, would you? Let us decide what's important."