At twenty-one, Delilah was the youngest and least experienced of the girls - not that it was apparent from her act. As all-American as apple pie, she was the s.e.xy cheerleader who actually did what all the guys fantasised the s.e.xy cheerleader would do - stripped off that itty-bitty little uniform before she waved her pompoms. Her act was cheeky, the perfect match for her California sunshine personality.

The troupe was completed by Chast.i.ty, a vintage siren with royal blue pin-curled hair and the smoke-edged voice of an angel, or as close to an angel as an artfully tattooed girl in a spray-on dress can be. It was a toss up which was more mesmerising, her voice or her curves, as she slowly removed her clothes during her performance.

Genie added a milk jug to the coffee tray in Deanna's hands and ushered her friend through to join the others. She reached into the pocket of her jean shorts as she followed behind, pulling out the note Abel had shoved under her door as she'd heard him go out an hour or two earlier. If the way he'd slammed his door and pushed the note so hard under the sill that it had skidded half way across the room was anything to go by, he was still mightily p.i.s.sed off. Good. She wanted him wound up and not thinking straight. She wanted him G.o.dd.a.m.n furious. Maybe it'd force a little honesty out of him. And deep down dark and hidden, she just plain wanted him, which made her furious with herself most of all, because however unreasonable, the urge was as unstoppable as breathing. Her head was a mess of hating everything he stood for and at the same instant wanting his hands everywhere on her.

Deanna was speaking to the girls, a.s.suming her natural role as campaign leader and organiser-in-chief. The gathered women gasped in shock at the news of the grave threat to the theatre, and Genie was buoyed by their sympathy and the way they banded together and threw themselves unanimously behind the plan to help raise funds.

Within a couple of hours they'd organised an intensive rehearsal and performance schedule and Deanna had taken charge of admin and marketing to get the people through the door.

Times like these, Genie was very glad to be a woman: she couldn't imagine a group of men ever bonding together without their compet.i.tive spirits forcing them to try to a.s.sert themselves over each other first. Amen to sisterhood.

As the group quietened, Genie smoothed out the note from Abel and laid it on the coffee table in the midst of the group.

'Kingdom sent me this today. He's bringing a group of investors to look around the building on Friday afternoon and wants me to make myself scarce.'

Deanna half laughed, half snorted. 'He's got some nerve.'

'Maybe these investors can be persuaded to invest in you instead,' Pearl speculated, her blue eyes sparkling with trouble.

Holly laughed, clapping her hands. 'Ladies, we need to be downstairs on Friday afternoon. All of us, yes?' Her eyes slid around the other girls' answering grins, all of them on the let's-screw-over-Abel-Kingdom wavelength.

'We're gonna scorch their f.u.c.kin' eyeb.a.l.l.s out,' Delilah's laugh was pure filth.

Petra folded her legs beneath her on the couch, cat-like. 'I shall read them the business supplement from my newspaper.' Her deep, throaty voice turned everything she said into an accented, X-rated purr.

'So what's he like, this Abel guy?' Holly asked, her head tipped to one side. 'Is he hot?'

Genie's eyes slid to Deanna's, who shrugged and held her hands up in the air. 'I'll leave that one to you to answer,' her friend said, and all eyes in the room turned to Genie.

'No,' Genie started vehemently, and then hesitated. 'Well, kind of.' She rallied. 'But not once you get to know him.'

'He's blistering,' Deanna supplied helpfully, and rolled her eyes when Genie shot her daggers. 'Well he is,' she said. 'Not that it matters, but he is. In fact, you girls need to know that now so you can steel yourselves against him. He might try to divide and conquer.'

Genie nodded, mute, thinking of him dividing her legs and conquering her on the hallway table the night before. She pulled herself up out of the armchair as the girls gathered up their belongings, and hugged each of them in turn before she reached for the catch on the front door.

'Thank you, guys,' she said. ' I really mean it. This place is everything to me.'

She swung the door wide and stepped into the hallway, realising a beat too late that she could hear footsteps on the stairs.

There was only ever one person that it was going to be, and as the girls filed out from behind her onto the landing, Abel appeared at the top of the steps. He stood stock still for a second, clearly taken aback by the unexpected sight of the six women lined up in front of him. Genie noticed the subtle shift in the energy amongst the group, from camaraderie to speculation. The flare of a bent knee, the tipped up hip. The invitation of a subtly raised eyebrow. The folded arms to draw attention to high b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Every last girl offered Abel something new to look at, and it took Genie a few seconds to process the common expression in all of their eyes.

Not invitation. Challenge. They weren't offering themselves to Abel Kingdom. They were throwing down the gauntlet. Take us on if you dare. Genie looked down at the floor for a second to hide her grin, and wanted to hug each of the newly formed Divine Girls all over again for their show of unity.

Petra broke ranks first, stepping forward and extending her hand delicately towards Abel. 'Arrivederci, Mr Kingdom,' she practically growled, holding his hand for a few seconds too long before brushing past him and heading downstairs.

Holly stepped up next, laying her hand on Abel's forearm. 'I've heard so much about you, Mr Kingdom,' she murmured, batting her lashes as she skipped off down the stairs after Petra.

'All of it bad,' Pearl added, laughing lightly, moving forward and brushing her lips against Abel's cheek as she stepped past him. Abel touched his fingers against his cheek, frowning as his eyes met Genie's big innocent ones.

Chast.i.ty followed Pearl, her blue waves arranged over one shoulder as she stepped in front of Abel and touched her lips against his other cheek. 'Until next time, Mr Kingdom,' she murmured as she moved away towards the stairs.

Delilah's Californian smile wreathed her face as she followed the rest of the girls' lead and approached Abel. 'You're every bit as hot as I'd imagined,' she said, running an appreciate hand over Abel's bicep as she moved around him to the staircase. She said it straight, but the mockery in her intention was clear enough. Genie wanted to laugh. Priceless. Well played, ladies.

Deanna was last to move forward, placing her palm flat against Abel's chest as she leaned forward. 'She says hot, I say d.i.c.khead,' she whispered against his neck, too quietly for Genie to catch her words. 'f.u.c.k with my friend and you f.u.c.k with us all, sunshine.'

And then there was just Genie and Abel on the landing, eying each other speculatively.

'Another pyjama party, green eyes?' he said, his keys jangling in his hand.

'Wouldn't you love to know,' Genie muttered, shoving her hands in the back pockets of her shorts to ensure they didn't reach out of their own accord and touch him.

'No need. It's all in here already thanks to your pretty friends,' he tapped his finger against his forehead. 'Us guys are all about the visuals. But then you don't need me to tell you what turns men on, do you?'

Genie caught his implied slur and batted it right back with an exaggerated sigh. 'Change the record Abel. You're starting to bore me.'

He laughed softly as he opened his front door. 'There aren't going to be any changes to my plan, Genie. You and the Kids from Fame go ahead and give it your best shot.' He stepped inside and turned back to look at Genie, tossing his keys up and catching them deftly in mid air. 'I'll be waiting right here at the end of it all to take the keys to this whole building from your uncle, not just this apartment.'

He clicked his door closed behind him, leaving Genie standing alone in the hall with just fury and frustration for company.

Friday lunchtime found The Divine Girls gathered once more in the theatre, but this time downstairs rather than in Genie's apartment. The foyer, so often thronged with excited theatregoers, was thronged today with a clientele of a different kind. Almost exclusively women, a palpable sizzle of excitement in the air, an undertone of camaraderie and feminine sensuality.

Deanna had made sure to spread the word far and wide about the event, an afternoon of free burlesque instruction with The Divine Girls. The invitation had suggested attendees dress for an afternoon of frolics and burlesque fun, and they'd also provided an impromptu lending wardrobe for those who didn't own anything suitable.

Genie was on the stage, Charity held court in the bar, turning it into a sultry saloon bar of bygone days. Deanna worked the kiosk, transformed for the afternoon into the s.e.xiest of usherettes. Petra had set up camp in the auditorium, an innocent looking pile of newspapers and a line of straight-backed chairs her only props. Delilah was in command of the foyer, the heavy drapes drawn across the theatre doors to preserve their privacy from the street.

Holly and Pearl had teamed up for the afternoon to offer instruction in the art of posing, teasing, glove peeling and even ta.s.sel twirling for those brave enough to try it, whilst Genie held fan cla.s.ses on the stage. In short, they were teaching women how to seduce, giving them a peek into the old-fashioned art of burlesque.

Deanna's double whammy marketing ploy meant firstly that the women would hopefully return home full of excitement about the spectacle and book tickets to bring their friends and lovers back to see the new Divine Girls show. Equally importantly, the gathering would have the effect of utterly derailing Abel's meeting with his bunch of straight-laced investors. He wanted to show a bunch of suits around? Sure. Let him try. They'd make sure that they saw the real, living theatre at its very best.

Genie glanced at the clock at the back of the auditorium. He was due at one, and it was quarter to. Any time now then. Nerves swirled low in her stomach, both because she needed to pull this off and because she knew Abel was going to be more furious than ever with her. It was his own d.a.m.n fault, with his selective prejudices and his pigheaded stubbornness.

Charity's smoky voice drifted through from the bar, setting the tone for the whole event, accompanied today by Deanna's c.o.c.ktail connoisseur brother who manned the bar, lubricating proceedings with free Cosmopolitans to help loosen inhibitions and basque strings.

Genie's first fan cla.s.s had just ended, and she took five minutes to walk through the theatre for one final check. It was all going swimmingly. Holly had her audience of ten enthralled, each of them mimicking her actions as she demonstrated how to remove her long satin gloves, tugging delicately at each fingertip with her teeth before peeling it off with a flourish. Pearl moved amongst the cla.s.s, murmuring encouragements and tips to the women as they practised. 'Hold eye contact, that's right. Now sway your hips a little. Use your whole body, not just your hands.' Genie heard her say. 'It's all about confidence. You're all beautiful women, now sashay!'

Genie couldn't have said it better herself, and she needed to hear it too just then. In the auditorium she observed Petra's cla.s.s in full flow, every chair now occupied by a s.e.xily dressed woman learning the arts of Sunday morning newspaper seduction.

Delilah was the welcoming committee nearest to the front doors, her mastercla.s.s in very adult cheerleading a roaring success. She'd already taught the group several chants in readiness for Abel's arrival, which was timely, because as Genie moved into the kiosk beside Deanna, the small window onto the street allowed her to glimpse him approaching from across the street with several a.s.sociates in tow.

It was the first time she'd seen him in business dress, and for a few seconds he knocked her breathless. He was a powerful man, and the dark grey, well-fitted suit served only to enhance that, lending him an extra air of authority that filled her with apprehension. He wasn't her c.o.c.ky Australian neighbour right now. He was a world cla.s.s businessman who she was about to royally screw over.

It wasn't that she felt bad for doing it, it was more that she was suddenly terrified of his reaction. She was under no illusions about how formidable an adversary he was and she knew there would be retaliation of some kind.

Deanna's hand snaked into hers beneath the counter and squeezed it. 'Game on,' she murmured, catching Genie's eye with a mischievous grin. Genie swallowed hard and nodded as she watched Abel approach the gla.s.s theatre doors, noting the way his step slowed a little as he clocked the closed curtains, his first indication that all was not as he'd expected in the theatre. She saw his brows lower into a frown as he reached forwards and pushed the door open.

On cue, Delilah's crew of cheerleaders swung into action, shaking their pompoms and chanting out the letters of Abel's surname as they shimmied. K. I. N. G. D. O. M! Who's the s.e.xiest of them all? Kingdom!

Genie watched, torn between looking at the dancing girls, at Abel's clearly agog a.s.sociates, and at Abel himself. He won. She saw the thunder pa.s.s over his face as he listened to the chant, and then the way he regrouped within moments and rewarded the girls with a killer smile as they finished with a shimmy and a shake. Delilah turned a graceful cartwheel, coming to a halt in front of Abel's investors.

'Welcome to Theatre Divine, gentlemen,' she said, her all-American cheerleader's confidence leaving them no choice but to accept the hand she offered to each of them in turn. Genie watched her in action and thanked her lucky stars and stripes that the Californian girl was here, stripping these guys of their professional intentions before they'd taken more than ten steps inside the building. And they were all guys, not a woman among them. Genie might in other circ.u.mstances have considered this a sorry state of affairs, but today it suited her purposes entirely; she had in fact banked on the imbalance.

Abel caught sight of Genie as she moved from behind the kiosk and crossed the s.p.a.ce between them. The cordial smile didn't leave his face, but she didn't miss the fire in his dark eyes.

'That's some welcoming committee, huh guys?' he laughed easily for the benefit of the men behind him, although he'd kind of lost his audience. Leaning in as if to deliver a cordial kiss on Genie's cheek, he took the opportunity instead to speak, his voice soft and deadly in her ear. 'You'll f.u.c.king pay for this, green eyes.' He pulled back as if he hadn't spoken, seeming to everyone else in the foyer still the smiling guy in charge.

Or battling to stay in charge, as it was swiftly turning into a fight for the investors' attention. Deanna walked around the kiosk in sky high heels, her itsy-bitsy cherry pink usherette suit moulded to her curves as she carried a tray of Manhattans with the ease of a girl trained ruthlessly by her bartender brother in her student years.

'c.o.c.ktail, sir?' she asked the guy closest to her, a sandy haired exec who'd already shed his jacket and loosened his tie. He tried and failed to keep his eyes from Deanna's cleavage as he helped himself from the proffered tray. His a.s.sociates followed suit without a second thought, leaving Abel the only man without a gla.s.s in his hand.

Delilah had picked off the guy closest to her, her blonde ponytail swinging as she invented a chant on the spot made up of his name. She had him mesmerised. Whatever he'd come here for today had clearly gone out of his head entirely as he basked under the glow of Delilah's attention. Genie smiled down at the floor, her fingers crossed behind her back. One down. Several more to go. Abel cleared his throat.

'Shall we, gentlemen?' he said. 'This way.'

The group followed his lead with varying degrees of reluctance, leaving behind the guy Delilah had enchanted with her transatlantic smile and tanned limbs.

Abel headed for the back of the foyer, knowing there was a door there to lead his group into the non- public areas of the building. Genie knew it too of course, and had locked it earlier that day. She saw him try the handle twice and then turn to look towards her with murder in his eyes. She shrugged, feigning surprise at the fact that his way was once more blocked.

Petra chose the moment he led his group back into the auditorium to rise from her chair and call her cla.s.s to order, ten women lined up on high backed chairs in front of her. She didn't bother to glance towards Abel or his group, but they were a stone's throw from where she worked and she knew it full well.

'Okay girls,' Petra purred, winding her body around the chair as she spoke. 'It's Sunday morning. You're at home, in your kitchen. Your husband wants bacon. You want s.e.x. This is what you do. Watch me first, and then you will learn.' Her exotically accented voice was none the less clear and rang out as she sat down, crossed her elegant legs, picked up the newspaper and flicked it open. Every man in the room turned to watch her at the mention of the word s.e.x, as instinctive as Pavlov's dogs. Even Abel reacted without thinking before he got himself in check, turning determinedly away from watching the beautiful raven haired woman as she began her act.

Genie glanced at his group, which now resembled a party of her theatregoers rather than a bunch of Abel's high-powered business colleagues, their ties loosened, shirt sleeves pushed back, gla.s.ses in their hands, refreshed by Deanna with a knowing smile. Realising that he'd once more lost his audience, Abel left them raptly watching Petra and stalked over to Genie beside the kiosk.

'What the h.e.l.l is this?' he said, his anger barely concealed. 'Your idea of a f.u.c.king ambush?'

'It's hardly an ambush,' Genie laughed softly, revelling in his annoyance and her clear mastery of the situation. Beyond where they stood, Petra had removed most of her outfit and had Abel's guys visibly gagging for her to lower that newspaper.

'Candy from a baby, Abel.' She murmured, but as she went to walk away she caught her breath when his fingers closed around her wrist.

'You really think you can stop me?' he breathed, his eyes hot on hers. Looking into them, Genie wasn't sure of anything at all.

'Let go of me. I've a cla.s.s to teach.'

He all but hissed. 'You're not performing for these guys. No f.u.c.king way.'

'Since when did you get to tell me what I can and can't do?' she said coolly, both thrilled and appalled by his territorial words. 'And I'm not performing for them. I'm performing for the women in my cla.s.s. If your investors happen to want to watch too...' she shrugged her shoulders and shook her wrist free of his fingers. Behind her Deanna discreetly distributed the information packs she'd put together, outlining their plans to save and preserve Theatre Divine as a burlesque hotspot. Genie saw the men file them with their other paperwork and her heart banged against her ribs with hope.

'Seems like Petra's show's over,' she said. 'You might want to go and try to get your audience back.'

She turned and walked through into the auditorium, privately doubting he'd be able to recover the attention of his business a.s.sociates. They were already heading in the same direction that she was, no doubt enticed by the sounds coming from Holly and Pearl's mastercla.s.s in progress. Abel followed them reluctantly. The two performers worked together to demonstrate their skills to their watchful students, Holly commentating as Pearl exhibited her signature technique of unlacing the back of a corset whilst throwing a wink over her shoulder towards anyone who should be watching. Her hips moved in time with the sensual sound of Charity's voice in the bar, her deft fingers unravelling the ribbons criss-crossing her back, with slow, precise flourishes.

Abel halted and crossed his arms over his chest, no doubt more than aware that he didn't stand a chance of trying to make those guys listen to dry business propositions when they were surrounded by an array of beautiful women taking their clothes off.

'You said it yourself, Abel.' Genie leaned towards him as if confiding in him. 'Men are visual creatures.'

She left him standing there on the edge of the group, knowing from his lethal expression that he wanted to lynch her, though he had no choice but to let her walk away.

Abel watched Genie walk towards the stage, his fists balled at his sides to prevent him from ripping the nearest seat clean out of the floor in fury. She'd taken his words and turned them on him, and the worst of it was that she was patently right. His carefully gathered group of investors had become more akin to a bunch of men on a Sat.u.r.day night stag do, and they could scarcely be held accountable, given the wall to wall provocation that Genie and co had presented them with.

He'd known she had fire in her belly, but he hadn't counted on her being so G.o.dd.a.m.n creative and tenacious. In other circ.u.mstances he'd admire her guts, maybe, but not today. She had mustered her resourcefulness only to throw obstacles in his path. And that's all they are, he reminded himself. Obstacles. He'd climbed over bigger, tougher obstacles in his life than this woman could ever hope to put in his way. He'd get what he wanted in the end.

And then the spotlight illuminated the stage, and all he wanted in that moment was the girl perched atop the glittering lamp that rose from the stage. How did she do that? She was the last woman on earth he wanted to want, yet she bleached out all traces of his common sense with a flick of her eyes and the slide of her hands down her own body. Almost everyone in the place, men and women alike, gravitated towards the stage to occupy the front rows of the theatre stalls and listen to Genie's master cla.s.s.

Abel leaned against a nearby pillar, wanting to walk away, knowing full well that he wouldn't. She'd transformed again, no longer the girl or the businesswoman, once more the seductress. She reminded him of iconic film stars of yesteryear, all curves and confidence.

Everyone listened as she spoke about the various props she used in her acts and regaled them with tales of burlesque stars and their signature moves over the ages. She was a natural performer, speaking as well as dancing, her audience listened raptly as she offered advice on more everyday props that they could try out easily at home.

A woman in the front row raised her hand as Genie's talk came to an end amidst lengthy applause and even a few whoops of appreciation.

'Do you think we could see your act with the lamp?'

An excited murmur of a.s.sent rippled through the small crowd.

'She's amazing,' Holly grinned and dropped into a seat amongst the gathered spectators. 'Just wait until you see this.'

Genie's eyes scanned the a.s.sembled faces quickly and Abel thought he could read apprehension in her body language for the briefest of seconds before she shrugged prettily. 'Of course. It won't be quite the same without the orchestra or the lighting techs, but it'll give you the idea of how I get the most out of the lamp as a prop.'

In the wings, Deanna was ready to go with Genie's practice soundtrack, and Abel slunk lower into his chair at the back of the auditorium as the now familiar slide of the trumpets heralded the start of Genie's routine. He knew pretty much move for move what she was going to do up there, but in this case knowledge wasn't power. Watching Genie rendered him powerless. Powerless to take his eyes off her. Powerless to stop his body reacting to hers. Powerless to stop the bewildering mix of l.u.s.t and contempt low in his gut, whether contempt for her or for himself, he wasn't sure. She stirred memories in him he'd rather keep buried, and she stirred emotions in him that left him feeling betrayed even by his own body. Right at that moment his head hated her, his c.o.c.k loved her, and his heart was plain confused.

The would-be investors watched with open admiration as Genie performed for the group, her act rendered all the more intimate by the unusually small audience. What if it were smaller still? What would it be like to be the only observer, to have her perform just for him? The thought disquieted Abel, sending his hand scrubbing harshly over the dark stubble on his clenched jaw. He'd never allow himself to be in that position, so it didn't matter.

Up on the stage Genie's fingers picked apart the ribbons holding her corset in place, and Abel steeled himself. He was going to see a h.e.l.l of a lot of peaches and cream skin in around five seconds, and he needed to school himself not to want to punch the lights out of every other man in the room for seeing and appreciating that exact same sight.

He'd got things badly wrong today. He'd woefully underestimated the almost naked woman up there on the stage, and G.o.d knows why, because he was fighting a daily battle to stay both ahead of her and away from her. She had too many faces. An angel in cut off shorts and innocent plaits, an unexpectedly shrewd and calculating opponent in business. But coated in glitter and very little else, surveying her kingdom from the top of that G.o.dd.a.m.n lamp, she was nothing less than demonic.

Abel slipped out of the stage door of the theatre just after eleven that night, his hand shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and his dark head down. He didn't need to look up at the street names to find his way, or check his phone for a map of the area.

He knew the way. He knew these streets. They were etched on him, all over him, like newsprint that wouldn't scrub off. He'd been a child here, a teenager, a punchbag every now and then. Too young back then to have control over his circ.u.mstances, those years had discoloured big chunks of his soul black. There had been no light and shade to his childhood, and right here right now, he needed to stamp all over those memories, stamp hard until they were ground into the pavement beneath his boots.

London rain hung damp in the air, cool on his face as his steps slowed by the still familiar school gates. Painted smartly in red now instead of peeling blue, but still there, still the same. Most kids had hated this place. Not Abel. School had been his respite, his safe place, his guaranteed square meal of the day. Not that he'd had many friends; his mother wasn't exactly the type to let him bring anyone home to tea. She was more likely to have their fathers round after hours.

He'd been the kind of child who flew just under the radar; his running shoes never cool enough, sc.r.a.ping in at the last minute with his homework so the teachers didn't single him out. It had eroded him more than even he realised, worn him down into a survival pattern made up mostly of keeping his eyes down and his mouth shut. It was a lonely way, but an effective one. He'd been a ghost amongst them, getting by, biding his time.

Just being back on these familiar streets sent a shiver of distaste down his back, more unpalatable than the drizzle on his face. He'd worked hard to shake off the dirt those years had coated him in, and being here again he could feel it trying to reattach itself, layer by subtle layer. Walking these pavements again now, sub-consciously avoiding the lines just as he had as a kid. If I don't stand on the cracks she'll be out when I get home. If I don't stand on the cracks she might be home alone. If I don't stand on the cracks she might love me some more.

It was an ordinary house in a run down back street, a shabby two-up two-down mid terrace with paper-thin walls and no garden. Sitting on the wall of the boarded up house opposite, Abel stared at it. He'd kept a loose track of her over the years, knew it was still the place she called home, even if he didn't. Was she in there right now? The flickering, blueish light cast from the TV in the uncurtained downstairs front room would suggest so.

He zipped his jacket close against his body, colder than the weather dictated he ought to be. A shadow moved across the room, his mother, surely, halting, looking, and then the room fell into darkness. Was she standing in the window watching him? Had she recognised him? Would she come outside any second now? Abel could hear his heartbeat loud inside his head as he stared at the front door, half ready to run if it opened. In that moment, he wasn't a successful businessman in control of his own life. He was her son again, small and skinny, scared and desperate for her approval. Clammy-handed, he held his breath, letting it go again when a lamp fleetingly illuminated the upstairs window before falling dark again. She hadn't seen him after all. Just as he'd done as a child, he moved quietly away, staying in the shadows, hot relief pumping through his veins at not having had to face her.

Chapter Eleven.

'That was some stunt you pulled yesterday,' Abel said, sauntering towards the stage with a notebook in his hand.