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Street.”
    He snorted. “And how do you think you’ll be able to get back there after closing time? It’ll be near three in the morning, and I can assure you all the hackney cabs have stopped their fares.”
    “I can walk—”
    “Are you bloody insane? It’s a mile and a half away, at night, in the most dangerous section of the city.” He reached out and ran his knuckles down her cheek. “A beautiful woman like you wouldn’t last fifty feet past these doors.”
    She cast her gaze around, landing on the clothes-strewn lounge. “Then I’ll stay here.”
    “This room wasn’t designed as a bedroom.”
    “I’ve slept in worse conditions. Besides, it’s right behind the stage, so it’s perfect after a performance.”
    He studied her face. “If you insist this is more to your liking, then I insist on moving the bed down here.”
    She bit her lip. “Thank you.”
    “You may not want to thank me when I tell you I plan on being in that bed,” he told her. Avilon felt her eyes widen. “With you.”
    She gasped. His eyes were lit with blue flame, making her insides squirm with molten desire. She could visualize them on the bed, their bodies naked, entwined together. And the problem was, she didn’t think she wanted to fight against the vision.
    He gave a predatory smile, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He winked, opened the door, and left her, her body yearning to rush back to him and throw herself into his arms.
    Yes, he was very dangerous indeed.

Chapter Six
     
    Avilon peeked around the corner and saw the room packed with men. The lights were dim, the room hazy with a cloud of smoke rising toward the ceiling. Two waiters served drinks, transporting them on top of silver trays, hurrying their way to and fro as they scrambled to fulfill orders.
    There had to be fifty men all waiting for her to sing to them. Her nerves were strung tight like piano wire. She slid her slick palms down her dress, trying to still their shaking. Her stomach rolled in waves, and she swallowed down the thick bile that rose in the back of her throat. Singing around Homer was one thing, but in front of so many drunk men was quite another.
    Just before she ducked back, she saw Eli and Jason sitting in a booth in the back.
    She took their image with her as she retreated back into the dressing room. The door clicked softly behind her. Her eyes fell briefly on the bed that Jason had ordered to be moved. Only this one wasn’t a small bed. It was large, large enough for two people. But that was the least of her problems at the moment. In one minute, she’d have to go onto that stage, ignore the stares of the men, perhaps some caterwauling they’d call out as she sang. Unexpectedly, tears welled up in her eyes, surprising her. She took a deep breath and chased them away, impatiently swiping the corners of her eyes. Nothing was ever resolved or fixed by crying, and she refused to feel sorry for herself. Her sister was depending on her.
    Straightening her shoulders, she pulled the door open and marched determinedly back to the stage. She saw Homer at his piano, playing a jaunty tune, and smoothed down her dark gray skirt. She had tried on almost all the dresses, but none of them fit, the previous wearer possessing a larger bosom than she. There hadn’t been enough time to fix them, so she had settled on wearing the same dress she had appeared at the club in, plain dark wool and stiff brocade. The one concession she allowed was letting her hair down. She had brushed the dark locks until they gleamed, the hair curling into its natural bounce.
    She caught Homer’s eye and gave a nod. Homer changed the tune immediately, effortlessly segueing into the opening of her first song. The audience quieted, and she stepped out onto the stage, taking a moment to run her gaze over all the patrons. Annabel sat on the lap of one man, and she winked. Avilon gave her a small smile. A man moved into the doorway, and she looked over. Ellis watched