Her eyes flashed. 'He's probably dead.'

It was Abel's turn to mock. 'I don't believe you. You do know. Tell me his name.'

Her face was resolute. This was her only power, and she wasn't giving it up. 'No.' She shook her head. 'Believe whatever you want. You'll never know. Maybe I do, maybe I don't.'

He stared at her, knowing he had nothing to offer that she wanted. She was playing a power game, putting him in his place, keeping him down, as she always had. He realised with a sudden cold drench of conviction that she really didn't know. She was just toying with him, enjoying withholding a real answer of any kind. There was no big secret. It was as ugly and mundane a truth as that. She had no idea who his father was.

Glancing around the room, his eyes settled on a photograph of her parents, his grandparents. His grandfather had died before Abel was born, but he remembered his grandmother well. Slight like his mother, but warm where she was cold and soft where she was hard. She'd been the one good presence in his early years, and it was the small inheritance that she'd left him which had provided him with his badly needed escape route as soon as he was old enough; money for a one way flight, somewhere as far away from home as he could possibly get.

'I always wanted you to be more like her,' he said, not caring if his words hurt.

If they did, she didn't show it. 'She always wanted me to be more like her. She was a fool. She babied you, and then left me to pick up the pieces.'

'She died, mother.' He couldn't bring himself to use the more familiar 'Mum' any more. 'I don't think she did it to inconvenience you.'

'Yes, and left me to toughen you up for the real world.' She looked him up and down. 'Didn't do a bad job, did I?'

'Anything I am today is in spite of you, not because of you,' he said coldly. It came as a release to let go of any lingering childhood hopes of a good relationship with his mother. In that moment he gave himself permission not to love her any more, and there was no accompanying sensation of loss or grief. There was only relief.

'Well it certainly wasn't your father's influence, was it? None of my men friends...' she placed a heavy, sarcastic emphasis on the word '... ever gave you a second look. That's how much you mean to anyone, so quit looking for something that isn't there.'

They stared at each brutally across the chipped table. Abel could see the pleasure in her eyes at having denied him something that he wanted.

If the man who was his father had had even had an inkling about him and never bothered to keep in touch, then he was even less of a loss than his mother. Abel reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper with the theatre's address on it.

'This is where I'm staying for the next few weeks, if any particular name should come back to you.' He knew now that it wouldn't, but still he dropped the paper on the table before he strode out of the house, down the cracked path and away from it all, forcing himself to walk slowly even though his heart was banging and he wanted to run away, slinking through the shadows just as he had as a boy. He walked. And he walked, and he walked, soaked to the skin, hoping the rain would wash away the smell of his mother's house from his clothes and the look in her eyes from his memory.

He walked to the cemetery and sat on the wet gra.s.s with his back leaned against his grandmother's gravestone until after dark, and then he walked into a bar and nursed a double scotch until the bartender locked up for the night. And then he walked the streets some more, drenched by the rain and accompanied by a soundtrack of rolling thunder, and finally headed for the only place that felt anything close to home right now. Theatre Divine.

Chapter Fifteen.

Post-show, the packed theatre had emptied out onto the stormy street and all of the staff had hurried home to get out of the worst of the weather, leaving Genie alone on the stage. Tonight's show had been a sizzler. She couldn't hide how excited she was about the future and had thrown all of that euphoric, pent up energy into her act tonight, leaving the audience stamping their feet for more even after her encore. Still mostly in costume, she hummed along to her favourite chill-out playlist streaming through the practice amp offstage as she ran through her post show checks of the lamp to keep her beloved prop in tip top condition.

'Bad luck, showgirl. Looks like your audience lost interest and went home.'

She stilled at the sound of Abel's voice and pirouetted slowly on her high heels. He'd been missing all day; she knew because she'd tried on several occasions to get hold of him and share the happy news about Dalton Productions. Or rub salt into his wounds. One or the other.

Christ. Had he not heard of an umbrella? He was soaked.

'And it looks like you've spent too much time in the sun and forgotten about the English weather,' she observed.

'I wish I'd forgotten a whole lot more about this country than the f.u.c.king weather,' he replied, pushing his wet hair back from his eyes.

Did he always have to be so outright antagonistic? She was on an absolute high and he wasn't going to pull her down.

'Where have you been all day? I've been looking for you,' she said, walking around the lamp again, stretching up high to inspect its upper planes.

He walked slowly down the central aisle, coming closer to her. 'Walking. Thinking about ripping this place apart and starting again.'

Genie smiled inwardly. He'd have to rethink that that one pretty rapidly once he heard her news. 'I see.'

'Do you?' he said, making her turn her head at the sharpness in his voice. 'Do you really? You see why I want turn this place from a washed up gin palace for perverts into a clean, working gym?'

She looked down at him, one hand on the lamp. She'd had just about as much as she could take of his c.r.a.p about her career.

'Drop it, Kingdom. You find it as s.e.xy as every other audience member. I saw you, remember? You can lie to yourself if you like but you're not fooling me or anyone else. You like to watch me perform.'

He shook his head. 'You don't know how wrong you are, Beauty.' he said softly. 'It disgusts me.'

His harsh choice of words enraged her.

'Disgusts you?' He'd well and truly trampled on her excitement, leaving her ready to kill him. She was no match for him physically, but she was a woman with weapons of her own. There was more than one way to take this man down.

'How about you prove it?' she said, her hand balanced on her tipped up hip.

'I don't need to prove anything to you or anyone else,' he said, with a bitter half laugh.

Genie nodded in acknowledgement, and then walked into the wings and knocked down the house lights apart from a couple of stage spotlights. She returned a moment later with a spindle-backed chair, one of The Divine Girls' stage props. Positioning it carefully on the stage facing the lamp, she turned back to him and opened her hands towards the chair.

'Take a seat. Let me dance for you.'

Abel locked eyes with her. 'I know what you're doing and its not going to work.'

She shrugged delicately. 'So prove me wrong. I dance. You watch. I'm willing to bet you won't be Mr Disgusted of Australia by the end of it.'

'I'm not a gambling man, Genie,' he said, shrugging out of his wet leather jacket to reveal a dark, just as damp shirt that clung to his body and outlined his powerful frame.

'Not even for a sure bet?' She lifted her eyebrows at him and ran her hands down her body to check her costume was in place. 'You're so certain of yourself. What have you got to lose?' she wheedled, moving behind the lamp and using the hidden step to move up onto its lid. He watched her every move from his front row position.

'Come up here and watch me, Abel. What are you so afraid of?'

Under usual circ.u.mstances, Abel wasn't an easily persuaded man. Under usual circ.u.mstances, he had an iron will.

But this wasn't a usual kind of night, and therefore usual rules didn't apply. His day had been h.e.l.l on wheels. He'd possibly seen his mother for the last time ever, faced the fact that he'd never meet his father, and he was saturated to the skin. One double whisky hadn't even begun to take the rough edges off his day. He could drink a whole d.a.m.n bottle and still not feel soothed. And then there was Genie, pushing all of his b.u.t.tons on purpose in order to prove her f.u.c.king point. He badly needed one win today. Everything else had gone to h.e.l.l; he was ready to sit on that G.o.dd.a.m.n chair and all but go to sleep while she did her stuff, just to prove for once and for all that he'd rather watch a woman strip paint than strip her clothes off for money. She was taunting him, and he knew that the right thing to do was to walk on by and go to bed, especially in the dark frame of mind that he'd arrived at.

'Not brave enough?' she said softly, and for a split second in his head it wasn't Genie speaking. It was his mother, and he was a child again, and this was going to be that one time when he stood up and said yes, I am brave enough. You can't break me.

And with that, he stalked up the stairs at the side of the stage and dropped onto the chair, legs splayed and arms folded across his chest.

'Go for your life, Beauty. Give it your best shot.'

Genie didn't know what had made him change his mind, but she sensed the moment that he snapped. He'd given off an aura of pent up frustration from the second he'd walked in, and now he'd taken his seat she could practically feel it radiating from him like a physical ent.i.ty. It surrounded her.

She'd never performed for an audience of one before. It brought a new intimacy, a whole different aspect to her act that she hadn't considered hitherto. She was generally so blinded by the stage lights that she couldn't pick out faces in the crowd, but Abel was close enough for her to really be able to see him, to watch his expressions.

She'd positioned his chair beneath a spotlight, and from here she could see the way his damp shirt pulled taut across his chest muscles, and the droplets of rain that still spiked his dark eyelashes like mascara. He was a big man in every sense: tall and robust with a presence to match. There was a quiet, brooding charisma about him tonight, a tight intensity, and Genie found herself more nervous than she expected to be. She'd engineered this situation, and now she had to see it through.

Abel didn't want to look her in the eyes. He could get through this as long as he didn't see the real woman behind the dancing girl she was so intent on making him want. What he didn't want was to see the pretty girl in cut offs and a t-shirt, or the almost virginal one in a white lace nightdress, or the one whose body he'd licked melted chocolate off. He didn't want to connect with her at all, and he figured that as long as he didn't look her in the eyes then he'd be okay. Then she threw her head back and struck a pose, her red curls wild over her shoulders, and he gave up on any plan and just watched her dance.

Genie knew she needed to do something different if this was going to work. He'd seen her current routine on several occasions, and she wanted the element of surprise. Besides, she'd removed her nipple covers after the show and hadn't bothered to put her stockings back on either, so had only the corset and knickers she'd finished her encore in now covering her body.

It wasn't much to work with, but it was going to have to be enough. Closing her eyes, she listened to the current playlist track, finding her rhythm, letting her body undulate to the steady, pulsing beat. Its sultry dance sound wasn't anywhere near as loud as her show music, but it was just enough to give her something to follow.

Rippling her hands down her body, she toyed with the corset catches, watching the spotlit man in front of her. He clearly wanted to give the impression he didn't want to be there. His folded arms, his set jaw, his indifferent expression all said 'bored'. But his eyes didn't as he watched her fingers play with those hook and eye fastenings. However hard Abel tried not to be, she could see he was interested.

He shifted in his seat now, becoming more agitated, and she bypa.s.sed her corset to hook her thumbs into the sides of her frilly silk knickers. She saw him swallow, noticing the way he closed his eyes momentarily as he did it. She was so very aware of him, of his proximity, and of his potential to combust. She just didn't know how long his fuse was.

There was only one way to find out. She lifted one eyebrow and smiled a little, suggestive, then slid the knickers down her thighs to reveal the tiny crystal g-string that covered her modesty on stage.

Look me in the eyes, Abel Kingdom.

He looked everywhere else, but he steadfastly refused to meet her gaze. She danced just for him, and every single second she longed for him to look up. It was as if he'd only half accepted her challenge, and given the fact that she was the one who'd thrown the dice, she certainly wasn't prepared to play by his rules.

Leaving her corset in place for now, she struck a new pose, slithering her body over the lamp's jewelled paintwork. It was time to take it up a level.

f.u.c.k. This wasn't her usual act. He'd banked on knowing what came next so he could mentally prepare himself, and now she'd gone a step ahead of him and mixed things up. Abel couldn't help but connect with the way her body moved; she was at one with the music, mermaid-like, her lamp a rock in the ocean as she perched on it and beckoned him to come over and break himself against it. He didn't. He wouldn't. Thank G.o.d she'd had that g-string on. She'd nearly stopped his f.u.c.king heart. And then she nearly stopped it again, because she was sliding her glittering body down from the lamp and coming straight for him.

Genie's heart was beating unnaturally fast as she drew closer to him. She'd never danced like this for anyone, and in climbing down and stepping closer she'd crossed the line from showgirl to something else, something closer to all of the accusations he regularly threw at her. She knew that she was breaking the rules, but Abel wasn't a man who played fair anyway. He played dirty, and right now this was starting to feel pretty dirty too, in a s.e.xy way.

She wasn't sure who held the upper hand. It ought to be her, and yet with every pa.s.sing second of his pa.s.sivity, Abel somehow seemed to gain ground.

Making a snap decision, Genie kicked the heat up from sultry private dancer to erotic s.e.x kitten. She slid her fingers down inside the front of her g-string. Abel looked down, unable to resist tracking the movement of her hands, and then, at last, agonisingly slowly, he looked up and met her eyes.

If she'd ever felt s.e.xier in her life, Genie couldn't remember when. His eyes smouldered, daring her to take it further, even though he still didn't move a single G.o.dd.a.m.n muscle.

Abel could barely breathe. She moved with the grace of a ballet dancer, and she had the lush curves of a vintage Hollywood starlet. She had him utterly enthralled, under her spell, and then when she slid her fingers inside that tiny g-string, his hands physically hurt from resisting the urge to take over the job for her. I will not touch her. I will not touch her. I will not touch her. If he told himself enough times he'd believe it. Dragging his gaze up the length of her sparkling, corset-clad body, he made his crucial tactical mistake; he looked into her eyes.

Her excitement mirrored his and pushed it up tenfold. Watching her mouth, her pink lips parted slightly as she touched herself. I will not kiss her. I will not kiss her. I will not kiss her. But he wanted to, and he hated himself more than ever for letting the thoughts bleed into his consciousness. I want to f.u.c.k her. I want to f.u.c.k her. I f.u.c.king want her.

And then she pushed his resolve frighteningly close to breaking point. She shimmied that g-string down her legs and dropped it in his lap.

Genie couldn't believe she'd done it, and in the same breath she'd known all along that she was going to. Turning away from him as she danced, she bent from the waist and smoothed her hands up the length of her leg from ankle to hip, arching backward as she straightened so her hair brushed over his lap. She pirouetted on her heels to face him as she stood, and moved her hands between her slightly parted legs. Jesus, it was s.e.xy being almost naked and dancing for him like this. His c.o.c.k clearly hadn't received the memo from his brain about not enjoying her performance; he was rock solid inside his jeans and they both knew it. She was desperate to move in and free him, but that wasn't the game. Abel had to be the one to break.

Moving behind his chair, she placed her hand on the back of it, a fingertip away from touching him. Putting her other hand between her legs, she dipped until her mouth was close to his ear.

'I'm touching myself and imagining that it's you,' she whispered. Abel closed his eyes, his expression almost painful. He was so, so close to cracking. Genie moved around him, naked from the waist down, and with a lithe arch of her leg, she straddled herself over his thighs.

She was beside him, behind him, all around him, touching herself and wanting him, and Abel could feel her dragging his resolve out of his body with her bare hands. He'd never battled harder to keep control of himself, and at the point when she swung her creamy, perfect thigh over his and straddled him, she finally smashed his resolve with a sledgehammer blow. He was barely aware of the animal noise that left his body, and he wasn't in control of his hands when they reached for her and dragged her down hard onto his lap.

The moment he touched her, Genie's body caught fire. She was gasping for him, loving the rough, raw way he smashed his mouth down onto hers, the almost painful pressure of his jeans between her legs. He wasn't gentle, and she didn't want him to be.

'Is this what you want from me, Beauty?' he said, his words thick in his throat. 'Is it?'

His chest heaved under hers, and she all but ripped his shirt from his body to get her hands on him. He shook it off and in one easy movement he stood with her in his arms and backed her up against the lamp. His body shone in the lights, glittered from touching her, and his dark eyes were full of danger as he set her on her feet and trapped her in place with his hips. She'd never seen him like this, so out of control, all of that simmering anger and frustration coming out in his taut movements. He slid a hand between her legs and kissed her hard, his other hand clamping her jaw.

He'd asked her a few seconds back if this was what she wanted. She'd never wanted anything more. He pulled his head up, breathing harshly.

'Get this f.u.c.king thing off,' he demanded hoa.r.s.ely, and a second later he had grasped the top of her corset and yanked it open from top to bottom, leaving her nude. He bent his head and kissed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, hungry, and she buried her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth back up to hers.

'Better?' she whispered, knowing from his moan that it was. His hands were on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, his knee between hers. 'I like being stripped by you.' The dynamic of their s.e.x was hard to fathom; he was physically in charge, and yet she sensed she still had control. 'I want you, Abel,' she told him, moved his hand between her legs, gasped when he pushed two fingers inside her without preamble. It didn't hurt; she was drenched. 'I want you to f.u.c.k me right here over the lamp.'

Thunder rolled loud outside the theatre as he slammed his fingers into her, and her eyes flew open as he held her body in place with his and opened his eyes. The expression there was so difficult to read. He was turned on, she knew that much, but there was a darkness there, a torment that she didn't understand. He watched her face intently as he slid his fingers out and then all the way back inside her again, making her cry out and arch her back. Genie couldn't breathe with the need to get him naked and on top of her.

'Please, Abel...' she whispered, dragging her teeth over his bottom lip. 'Lift me up and f.u.c.k me on top of the lamp.'

She'd won. There was no doubt about it. Abel touched her everywhere, couldn't get enough of her perfect, gleaming showgirl body in his hands. He mouthed her nipples, rubbed her c.l.i.t, and when she begged him to, he hoisted her up over that f.u.c.king lamp and crawled right on up there with her. He wasn't strong enough, she'd beaten him. Crouching over her splayed, G.o.ddess body, he unb.u.t.toned his jeans and shoved them off, as frantic as she was to f.u.c.k. She spread her legs wider when he was naked and then locked herself around him, claiming her prize. Every inch of her trembling body glittered, she was all sweet curves and filthy heat and wet s.e.x, and as he settled his c.o.c.k between her legs and thrust himself home, she raked her nails hard enough down his back to draw blood. Animal marks. Victorious.

Genie opened her eyes as Abel's c.o.c.k filled her body, his heavy weight pressing her against the coolness of the lamp. His hands fisted in her hair, and she'd never forget the look on his face as he looked down at her, the battle between absolute pleasure and absolute anguish clear. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, and she tipped her hips up, holding him inside her all the way to his base.

'It's good,' she whispered, needing him to know, smoothing his hair back from his sweat damped brow. He didn't move, his eyes still searching her face, frowning, desperate almost.

Come back, Abel. Don't lose your nerve now.

She moved her hands down the slopes and angles of his back, gentle on him now rather than sharp, feeling the marks she'd left on his skin. 'It's so very good,' she repeated, frightened for him, and then she lifted her head and kissed him long and deep, bringing him back from wherever he'd gone. Rocking him inside her, she held his face in one hand and moved the other over the smooth hardness of his a.s.s. She murmured his name as his hips began to move over hers, slow, satisfying thrusts, agonisingly good pressure over her c.l.i.toris.

Abel propped himself up on his elbows, stroking his fingertips down her face, reverential.

'I couldn't do it, Beauty,' he said, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g into her slowly, and the crack in his voice split a crack through Genie's heart. 'I couldn't stop. You're too strong. Too f.u.c.king beautiful.'

She breathed deeply and wrapped him close, moving with him, nowhere close to understanding him, yet in another way feeling she knew him better than he knew himself.

'I don't want you to stop,' she said, and gasped into his mouth when he reached between them to stroke his fingers over her c.l.i.t. The tenderness of the man unb.u.t.toned her until every inch of her ached for him, for the way he kissed her endlessly as he drew the hard, shuddering o.r.g.a.s.m out of her body.

Genie cradled his head in her hands, and she felt his tears on her eyelashes even as his hips spasmed into hers, jerking, spilling, finishing what she'd started.

Abel could feel her hands soothing him, her mouth gentle over his temple, even though she didn't know where his emotion had come from. In truth, he didn't understand it either, and the confused mess of l.u.s.t and hate and love and revulsion inside his head made him recoil from Genie, crawling away to drag his rain damp jeans back on, retreating like a wounded lion.

She sat up, bewildered and beautiful, her body still flushed from their s.e.x, and seconds later she had followed him down onto the stage.

'Abel...' she said beseechingly, her hand warm on his arm. He jerked away from her, dashing his arm over his eyes as he reached for his shirt, but she took it from his hands.

'No. You're not doing this. You're not going to throw your clothes on and walk away again.'

'Give me my G.o.dd.a.m.n shirt, Genie,' he ground out, his fists clenching on his thighs. He needed to get away from her. She shook her head, and then, infuriatingly, slid the shirt around her own body and fastened a couple of b.u.t.tons.

'Not until you talk to me.'

He faced her down. 'Keep the shirt. It was expensive. Consider it payment.'

Tears filled her eyes and her mouth trembled as she fought to keep herself in check.

'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d,' she said. 'What we just did...' she looked back towards the lamp, and then at him again. 'What we just did deserves more respect than that, Abel. I don't care what you say, or what you think any more.' Her eyes flashed, clear and honest. 'But what just happened there wasn't wrong and you d.a.m.n well know it.'