Her fingers slid over the hot pot, which contained nothing but stale water that she hadn't wanted to pour away. It was only a matter of time before the tap of this one-room flat would be turned off. Last month's money hadn't been enough to pay that damn water bill.

Again.

The sigh grazed Soleil's lips reproachfully as she sat down at the low table between the sofa and a useless potted plant that had been withering away and stealing space for half a year. Simultaneously, she pushed aside the unpleasant thoughts of recent bills and lingered on Chrollo – the stranger who had invited her to something he was going to pay her for. Pay well.

He had looked like a mother-in-law's sweetheart – had seemed approachable and gentlemanly up to a point. But the hypocritical friendliness and behaviour he had displayed had been at least as dangerous as the undertone of his voice. He wasn't a simple man, she had understood that. He was someone who wanted something; and she was to get it for him.

Lips pursed, Soleil lowered her eyelids. Whatever the man possessed that Chrollo wanted, it had to be invaluable. At least it gave that very appearance and that made a payment more tempting. Maybe she'd actually be given enough money to at least pay the water bill for an entire year. Because to save her from dancing, he would have to empty his pockets completely, and he certainly hadn't turned to her for that.

But it was better than nothing.

Determined, Soleil opened her eyes again to glance at the clock on the opposite wall. It was just before twelve.

In an hour, she would meet Chrollo to follow his plan. Agreeing had been easy, and everything she needed was already in her wardrobe. Preppy clothes were at least as important as hot panties and rags in the arsenal if you wanted to make money as a stripper. Men liked the different roles of a woman and especially unreachable beauties in overpriced dresses possessed a certain amount of popularity.

So she left the pot on the table and strolled over to the wardrobe to dig out anything that would suit a high society party. Something that didn't look like it was too cheap and yet something that exuded a certain charm assuring her of attention. Red was too daring. Blue and black too sombre. The dark green silk that shimmered in the light, however, made an impression.

Instantly, Soleil slipped out of her clothes and put on the flowing fabric that loosely framed her chest, only to accentuate her waist and hips. The bit of room left for her legs was just enough to walk halfway decently, the green standing out a little too much next to her pale skin and black hair.

She would need jewellery.

A reach into the small jewellery box, though, made her snort. If even a single piece of her belongings had been real, a house of her own would no longer be just a distant dream of a stranded woman somewhere in the middle of nowhere. But most of the things were made of cheap metal that looked like it was real, as long as you didn't look closer.

Her decision fell on a magnificent pearl necklace that adorned her cleavage in three rows, and a pair of earrings in the same look that shone faintly between her black mane. Concurrently, Soleil tucked a short, green-blue feather into her hair. The only headdress that had something noble about it in this combination.

With light make-up and matching nail polish, she finally slipped into a pair of high heels that she had received as a gift from a customer at some point but had never worn. Just like the dress on her body.

The first steps were uncomfortable, and the leather seemed to crush her feet, but there was no time for pain. As a woman in her position, swallowing was a better option than letting money slip through her fingers that might even pay for a little restart.

With a few final touches, she straightened her dress, grabbed a handbag and threw on a thin scarf that was nothing more than a pitiful attempt not to freeze to death in the chilly air of the outside world. Then she finally left her tiny flat behind.

Her shoes echoed through the run-down stairwell as she dared a glance at her mobile phone, which showed no new messages. Chrollo had said he would pick her up, but the streets of the city's backside alleys were so narrow that there was barely enough room for two people side by side.

When she set foot on the stony pavement for the first time, however, all that remained was the cold thought of a warm jacket. Instantly, Soleil rubbed her hands over her upper arms as the sun glared and her legs automatically moved towards the main road. It had been ages since she had last seen the city in daylight – or anything in daylight, in general. Most people were going about their daily lives, a few were looking at clothes on display in the windows of fashion shops and very few were walking around as if they were going somewhere more important than the stuffy, underpaid office.

The cold clung to her legs as she watched them, making her skin numb and her thoughts more miserable with each step. She had no clue where this particular case of a maniac was going to pick her up, but the main street seemed like the best place to go. Except she couldn't make out a car among the eternally identical-looking ones that might belong to her.

Until one of the black cars stopped right next to her and followed at a walking pace until the understanding came that someone was waiting for her behind the tinted windows. Her steps slowed as she tilted her head and ultimately stopped. Barely a moment later, the passenger door opened and Chrollo moved into view.

He was just leaning back behind the wheel; well-dressed, with the same stupid headband from the night before. She could barely take her eyes off him as she got in and pressed into the upholstery, hoping to find warmth waiting just dully in the fabric. Nothing had changed in his handsome appearance, but the suit was tailored this time, pushing the image of a forlorn office worker into the background. Instead, he now looked like he had just been released from the mafia – apart from the hair and his general appearance.

There was no greeting. They were nothing more than unknown acquaintances who wanted to achieve something for which they had already discussed everything important. The silence that turned the entire atmosphere into a sleepy picture of people and other cars passing by lulled Soleil. She usually slept during the day. Only when the sun went down did a part of her come alive. In this case, the feeling of being half dead had settled somewhere in her bones, and the stillness that wouldn't come off brought fatigue.

She should have gone to bed before seven.

Pressing her lips together, she glanced curtly at Chrollo, who also let his attention swing to the side now and then. It was only a brief breath in which she was clearly aware of his eyes travelling along her legs. A split second she seized to shoo away the weariness.

"Is something wrong?" Brows raised, Soleil looked at him.

"No," he merely returned, keeping the rigid mask of a slight smile clearly on his features. "You look good."

Her eyes widened. He could have said something about the jewellery – perhaps he had noticed that not a single pearl was real – or something about the mission, but he settled for a very simple compliment. One that dripped like oil on her soul. The last person who had complimented her had kept his eyes glued to her bare chest. Chrollo, in contrast, was presented with only a slight cleavage – and from that, nothing but fabric and bare arms that left little to appeal to.

"Thank you," she finally brought herself to say, waiting to see if more would come, but he remained distant.

"You're very welcome."

Silence welled up between them again, and although the tiredness didn't lessen, it was a little easier to stay awake after the tiny exchange. Not least because her thoughts became attached to the man driving them to their destination. There was nothing threatening about his silence. Yet, Soleil thought she detected thoughtfulness in his attitude. His shoulders looked stiff, his gaze was fixed further into the distance than necessary, and a hint of dreamy fantasy hung somewhere in between.

Her eyes turned away again, barely a moment later. The compliment had been good, had brought a little more confidence to a situation in which she found no footing. Her task was obvious, but the information was still meagre.

"If he indeed takes the bait and everything goes as you imagine," she began slowly, "does that mean I'll be alone? Not to ruin you and your fun plan, but I'm a dancer, not an assassin."

"You won't be alone," Chrollo returned in a melodically calm tone and she probably would have believed anything he said in those seconds. "I'll be there too."

"How?"

He waited almost an eternity before forcing himself to answer. "Two of the outside posts among the gardeners, and two free posts to observe the household."

So he had sneaked in several people. More individuals who were sticking their asses out for something they didn't know what it was. The only thing she understood was the undeniable fact that the target was good at his game of hide and seek. Without this unknown man, there was no way to get what Chrollo wanted. Said unknown man could be anyone and no one at the same time. Even as a pretend wife, she had to be careful if what was in front of her was real – and if she had him, really knew him in her hands, there was information to collect. Little things that Chrollo probably couldn't get out of him easily, no matter what method was used.

These were all key points that Soleil had memorised and could now embellish with the fact that she would never be alone. If anyone had the insane idea of backing her into a corner, Chrollo's presence at least gave her some security.

Her thoughts faded as the car halted in front of a pompous mansion and momentary emptiness rippled behind her forehead. Lights flickered over bars fencing the property. Vague figures moved behind gigantic windows, and the illumination burned so brightly in her eyes that Soleil lowered her eyelids for a fleeting moment, waiting only for the Christ Child's bell to ring.

Glowing like the aurora borealis among filthy greyness in broad daylight was clearly something about having too much money lying around with the wrong people.

Then she opened her eyes again, but couldn't even get over the excessive sensory overload when Chrollo opened the passenger door for her as if he were actually a gentleman.

In a fluid motion, Soleil slid out of the seat into the cold that made her shoulders shake. Standing still was out of the question at these temperatures. So she pushed forward, a few feet before Chrollo offered her an elbow, which she instantly pressed to her chest. The little warmth he radiated had to be enough.

Together they followed the path behind the iron bars; up steps to an entrance where two guards stood checking invitations.

"Names?" murmured one of the two men, built like a wardrobe.

"Webstar," Chrollo replied with the same friendly expression that had probably been chiselled into him. Simultaneously, the second bouncer, no less broadly built but looking many times smarter with glasses on his nose, went through an endless list on yellow paper.

It was some time before he nodded. "Standing on the list."

On cue, the one without glasses pulled out two cards with labels – names, presumably. He handed her one of them, as well as Chrollo, before a grunted "Pin it" rolled across his lips. Hesitantly, Soleil pinned the card to her chest, did the same as Chrollo, who took it all in as if he did nothing else all day. Only then did the bouncers gestured they should enter and the coldness of the outside world stayed behind.

Behind the entrance door, only stuffy air waited, held in place by the heavy fabric of the furniture. Red curtains merged with black carpet in the entrance hall, which was replaced by dark wooden flooring as they stepped into the open space to the broad mass of invited guests. Gold jewellery shone, earrings jingled, and dresses fell like liquid silver over the skin of beautiful women. They all possessed class – a completely different attitude from Soleil.

She didn't fit into this ambience.

She never had.

Saliva hung lazily in her throat as she turned to Chrollo, listening to the slow classical music of unfamiliar melodies on the side.

"I wasn't going to ask, but just now I have this need..." Carefully, she released his arm. "What exactly do you want from the man I'm after?"

"Nothing relevant for you." Chrollo's eyes found hers and though it could have been romantic as hell, there was only cold, predictable planning in his expression. She was just a pawn, and even if it was for the best, the lack of openness bothered her. He had a plan, and he was dragging her into it. Some answers would have been fair.

With a snort, she turned away. In the end, she was doing it for the money and there was nothing else to do but fish the right man out of the crowd without standing out like a bumpkin.

Chrollo had a plan for that, too.

When he held out his hand to her, Soleil was left to stare uncertainly.

"We should dance."

"No," she returned instantly. There were exactly three variations of dancing. Number one included people who knew how to swing morally from A to B. Number two included all those who didn't know left from right and fell over their own feet when everyone was looking. Soleil herself belonged in the third category: people who could move up and down a pole like snakes and had perhaps done the doctorate in contortion, but certainly had as much tact as a hippo.

She knew how to make the right moves at the right moment, and she knew at what beat to drop her bra – but all she knew about couples' dances was what you saw in films when a woman carried a watermelon and the accompanying man had the music in his blood.

"It's simple." Chrollo didn't let up. Hand still extended in her direction, he made his point with a thin smile that she almost believed.

"I can't dance."

"It looked different at the club."

"At the club!" Sneering disdainfully, Soleil tensed her shoulders. "You equate stripping with ... the wiggle here?"

Slowly, he tilted his head and gave her an expression that silently rebuked her, while a hint of care resonated. "I will lead. You only need to follow me."

Briefly, Soleil glanced at the dance floor. Probably skinny-dipping in a swamp of slugs would have been more enjoyable, but she needed the money. And for that, she needed the unknown man whose attention might be caught by a dance. So she reached for Chrollo's hand and let herself be led. Straight into the crowd.

The warmth of his skin at least brought her the assurance that they would go down together if she stepped on his toes. Standing face to face brought the alley back into her mind, while this time, however, a hand settled on her hip and he came close enough for the gentle scent of light perfume to reach her. A hint of mint, something stubborn that she inhaled deeply before he forced her back a step.

The first movements felt stiff. Each step had an uncertain aftertaste. But Chrollo's body clung to hers like a second skin and the more she allowed herself to be distracted by his presence, the easier it was to let herself fall. Suddenly, socially acceptable dancing didn't seem so hard.

Casually, she let her gaze slide over a few of the people present. Women laughed in secluded corners, men held meaningful conversations. It had the charm of endless old times.

One man smiled at her, and another eyed her up and down before wrinkling his nose. Almost indignantly, Soleil reared back in the dance, only to bump into a waiter who apologised in the same breath. His green eyes examined her once at length before he raised his brows and turned away. Presumably, people in this place were quick to notice when someone didn't belong. The cheap jewellery probably gave them away as much as the mismatched appearance that was no competition to that of other women.

The only anchor in the middle of this crowd was her dance partner. Someone else who didn't really fit into this ambience and yet led her as if there was no better place for them both. At least until Soleil bumped into someone again. Instantly, Chrollo pulled her a little closer, only to offer a friendly smile to the pair, which apologised in the same breath. The man, a bald giant, scratched his chin sheepishly before bowing. Then he eyed Soleil for minutes before putting on a handsome smile and placing a hand on his chest. There was no disapproval in his posture.

"For the sake of circumstances, how about swapping dance partners? No acquaintance can be better cultivated than that at a dance." His smile was radiant as he turned to Soleil and held out his hand to her. "Would you be up for another round?"

She didn't need to glance at Chrollo to know that this man was her ticket among the masses. Straight towards her target, who would presumably also show up soon to face her at least once. Whoever it would be, his bewilderment would probably spread across his features and betray him. Solely for that reason, she grasped the stranger's hand.

"I must warn you," she then put in with an apologetic face, "but I'm not a very good dancer."

"It doesn't matter." With a tug, he pulled her to his chest. "I lead all the better."

In fact, he led better than Chrollo. His strides were large, yet elegant like a cat's, and the soft look in his eyes made the world fade into the background. The deep brown of his irises transported her to warm worlds where there was only love and acceptance, and for a breath, she wouldn't deny that he was a fine-looking man. Maybe in his early forties, but visually, he was in no way inferior to the younger men in the room.

"May I know your name?" To her amazement, he started the conversation between them, steering towards the usual small talk that couldn't break the ice but could slowly melt it.

"Soleil," she replied cautiously, trying to compose herself and not get too lost in the encounter. "And you?"

"Archihilles Bylkal, organiser of this little daytime classical dance company." His smile turned into a knowing smirk, as if he was reading her thoughts before she had any. "I like to mingle with the guests and know almost everyone who shows up. But your face is unfamiliar to me and I love new acquaintances." Tentatively, he guided Soleil into a double turn. "Especially when they are such pretty women as you are. Are you from Yorknew?"

"You could say that." His compliment made her chest tighten. It was pleasant to hear more than the praise at the strip club, but it was also unusual and Chrollo had already filled up the measure for generous words. More of all this would soon bring a blush to her cheeks – for no reason at all.

"It's a pleasant town, isn't it?" her counterpart continued unfazed, leading her past another couple who seemed trapped in their own world.

"A little grey," Soleil returned, letting her gaze wander. Most had turned their curiosity away from her again and even Chrollo seemed fully absorbed in conversation. Presumably, that woman there in his arms was educated – at least more educated than Soleil, which was basically no challenge.

With difficulty, she held back a sigh as her partner leaned down a little towards her. "Excuse my direct question, but that man there at your side ... the one you came with, is that your husband?"

"No!" The answer escaped her quicker than she intended, causing Soleil to pause for a second. "We are siblings."

Not the best lie, but they were both black-haired, Chrollo was only half a head taller than her and they both didn't fit in. That at least made the statement believable.

Something Archihilles agreed with as his eyes gleamed and he squeezed Soleil's hands a little tighter. "I must confess, that is a relief."

"Why?" Momentarily, she released herself from his grasp with no protest. Instead, he gestured for her to follow a few steps, so that they found their way to the edge of the dance floor – to a corner where no one else lingered.

"I must confess that I couldn't believe my eyes at first," Archihilles then resumed, "but you look like a woman who was once very dear to me."

"Sounds like a childhood friend."

"Unfortunately, no. I met her ten years ago and married her barely a year later." A sigh left his lips. "Sadly, she died in the fourth year of our marriage, leaving me alone. I can't say I came through her death well and seeing you here today has only reminded me more of how much I loved her." Suddenly, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Would you have a drink with me?"

It was him. He had to be. And for having something Chrollo wanted, he seemed like a decent, nice man whom loneliness had caught up with far too soon. So she nodded.

The joy in his eyes gleamed as he offered her an elbow and led her straight to the bar they had set up on a floor above the dance floor. Over the music and those who wanted to sway in it, however, there were far more people and the certainty that she would stand out made Soleil's skin sticky. Sweat gathered under her arms, between her legs, down her back, everywhere no air seemed to reach. Some of those present immediately started whispering, and a few others opened their mouths but remained silent.

With difficulty, Soleil tried to concentrate on Archihilles, his pleasant smile and the polite way he helped her onto the stool with one hand and insisted on paying for the drinks. But the bitter taste remained even after two sips of vodka burned devilishly in her throat.

"You are a lady with unconventional tastes," Archihilles remarked, moving closer and keeping his voice low so no one would overhear. "What is your profession?"

Anything was better than the truth and yet nothing more appropriate came to her mind than the obvious. "Dancer."

"Oh! For what kind of dancing?"

"E ... exotic." Her hand clutched the glass.

"That sounds interesting. Do you mean something like burlesque? Or more along the lines of flamenco?" The twinkle in his eyes didn't diminish and for a moment Soleil tried to come up with something half-decent to answer.

"Tango," she finally replied. There was something about the close dancing with the pole that had the provocative moves of a tango where clothes didn't stay where they were. But these were details he didn't need to know and which Soleil swallowed with a thin smile.

"Tango! That sounds-"

"Lady Hiira?" one interrupted Archihilles in the same blink. A couple had approached, both stricken with curiosity that made Soleil's target snort before kindness returned. Behind the two troublemakers, the other people on the floor had gathered, spellbound by the same interest that Soleil couldn't contain. Instead, Archihilles took over the conversation.

"Indeed," he confirmed proudly. "My wife took the time to go dancing with me today."

"We haven't seen you for ages! Rumours were already circulating that you had left the master, or worse, passed away." The woman of the pair babbled without punctuation, while Soleil lost her grip on the glass. This man at her side forced her into a position that put Chrollo's words in a completely different light. She was wanted. Solely to save face.

"With your ... decidedly ... wayward choice of clothing, most of us noticed you right away. It's easy to see it's a cheap fabric." The man interjected as well, but was only met by Soleil's disgusted look. This damned dress had cost her client three months' salary. That was a small fortune, and yet it was considered cheap in these circles. But she had to fit the part. She had to show Archihilles that she was the perfect replacement. So she forced herself to smile.

"After so long, I wanted to get some attention for myself, which is hard to achieve with all those expensive clothes without overdoing it. So I decided going for something simple." At least, if three months' salary was to be titled simple.

"That was an excellent idea, Lady Hiira," the woman enthused, while her husband nodded in approval.

"At large, you have dared to make a few changes in the last few years when no one has seen you."

"Have I?" Barely noticeably, Soleil tilted her head.

"Indeed. In the past, you would have tried to trump all that with even more splendour. But you have always been a clever woman who knew how to generate interest. Otherwise, the master would probably never have fallen for you." The throaty laugh remained his alone. "That aside, the short hair suits you exceedingly well, though I suppose many are sure it's a pity about the knee-length silk you wore before."

"And let's not forget the contact lenses. I hear that's currently fashionable in some parts of the world?" again the woman echoed, and though she was flowing more and more into the image Chrollo wanted her to see, following the endless words remained difficult.

"It is," Archihilles interjected at last, causing Soleil to breathe a grateful sigh. "Hiira has found pleasure in following a few trends. And she's as beautiful as ever with that joy." He smiled. "I think it's time we started the journey home, don't you?" Amid the curious looks and disappointed exclamations at Archihilles' suggestion, he offered Soleil a hand to escape. Presumably, he knew how exhausting it was to be in the limelight and that she didn't fit into this absurd image – not dressed like that and surprised by people she didn't even know. His friendliness seemed boundless, so she took his hand and slid off the stool.

Archihilles led the way, making his way through the crowd, which Soleil followed without a care in the world. Past old paintings, he pulled her down a few steps, along a corridor to a door that led into an underground garage. Limousines stood there close together, black and white, some in dark blue. Soleil looked at some of them while her guide took her to one car, behind the wheel of which a chauffeur was playing on his mobile phone.

"You want to escape from your own party?" She raised a brow in wonder until they stopped at the back door of the car.

"We will," he replied. "We are fleeing the party. I must ask you to come with me, Soleil."

"Where to?"

"Home." Elated, he opened the door and with a curt gesture offered her the honour to advance. But she didn't move.

Chrollo was nowhere to be seen, and to follow her destination, straight into another house, not knowing what to do next except seduce, was problematic. He hadn't told her what he wanted to know from Archihilles and it made her every move a little more hesitant.

"Can't we stay a little longer, then?" Stalling for time looked like the best option.

"No." The smile on his features was tantamount to an apology. "Maybe another time."

With a sigh, Soleil lowered her head. Chrollo seemed like a smart man and he had said he would be where Archihilles lived as well. That made getting in less of a headache – even if her heart was beating faster with each passing second. Sweat clung to her skin as Soleil climbed into the car and breathed a sigh of relief, only to look straight into the green eyes of a man who was eyeing her dismissively.

For a moment she returned his gaze, examining the blond hair and that face that could almost be forgotten in the next blink. He was handsome, but not special. Still, she remembered seeing him before and when he raised his eyebrows, she believed he was the waiter she had bumped into.

"I'll attend to the guests a little longer, Sir. I wish you a pleasant journey back." As Archihilles leaned inside briefly to address the waiter, her heart stopped for a breath. The other's dismissive hand gesture gave her one last smile before he closed the door, and Soleil's gaze lingered on the stranger. Archihilles had called him Sir. Surely he couldn't –

"You stare as if you fell on your head, woman." He snorted, part amused, part annoyed. "What's your name?"

"Soleil." Terse question, terse answer. Talking to him more than necessary possessed the aftertaste of stale tea.

"All right, Soleil, you will listen to me carefully now." Resting his head on one hand, he eyed her up and down one more time. "I am Archihilles. The real one, in case you plan to ask stupid questions. As you might have noticed during the tasteful party upstairs, people weren't just looking at you there because you're dressed like the last bumpkin."

Asshole! She swallowed. Demonising him in her mind sounded like a fair alternative.

"Some people have noticed that this needle in the haystack looks almost exactly like my wife, Hiira. Deceased wife Hiira. Whatever." He took a breath and took an upright posture. "That is your good fortune. For now, you will take her place. A man of my calibre cannot possibly appear without a wife, and if they find out Hiira has passed on, the press will jump on it and blame me. That would hurt my image and I need the perfect world to run in the good circles of society away from ... your class. Consider yourself lucky. From today, you are my wife."

Lashing out and breaking his nose was probably out of the question, which was why Soleil merely folded her arms in front of her chest and wrinkled her nose. She was already missing the other Archihilles. "And what if I decline with thanks because I have no interest in wasting my life with someone like you?"

Another snort, this time filled with more amusement. "Dear," he tilted his head gallantly, "to say the least, I don't give a damn what you want. You do what I say and you'll get a good life in return. If you refuse, I'll have to make you compliant." He leaned forward a little. "I have servants for that sort of thing, and as long as they don't scratch your pretty face, they can put you through the meat grinder for all I care."