April 10, 1942

She had done as Belle had directed the previous evening. She'd brushed her teeth, combed out her hair, cuddled Waltz until he fell asleep at the foot of her bed, and proceeded to make a pot of tea. It didn't take long to see the message written in heat sensitive ink over the side of the pot.

Eugenics. District 18. Broehm.

She poured a cup of tea and took it to bed, after carefully scrubbing away the message. The doctor was performing eugenic practices in Paris. The thought made her shudder and wonder just how many women were being conned into giving up their babies. How many of those had been deemed undesirable and murdered in the name of science? It boiled her blood.  She knew it was all a part of Hitler's plan.  Madness.  It pained her to know that she couldn't help conceal any of the children, that was her partner's task.  It would be hard to hide the wails of an infant from the colonel should he drop in unannounced.  No, her duty was to her mission and her mission alone.  

The process made sense to her as far as Nazi goals were considered. It was their overall end game; create and maintain the perfect race of Nordic and Germanic descent. The Aryan Nation. It was the Jewish women forced to carry Jewish children that confused her. It wasn't her department, nor remotely close to her assignment, but it still left a mark inside of her to know everything she did. Sometimes she envied the civilians. At least they didn't have to bear the weight of knowing just exactly what was taking place around them.

Her night had been restless, the morning coming all too soon, and unfortunately going just as she expected. Carlos had arrived with the gown that exceeded every expectation she could have possibly had. And by the afternoon there was an army of people arriving and insisting upon doing her hair and makeup for the ball. It was too much all at once, but she sat dutifully in her silk robe as they dabbed and pulled and swiped and slicked everything into perfection. She watched in the mirror as they worked and felt in awe at her appearance.

Her platinum blonde hair had been side swept and pinned in place with the pearl comb. It was worn long and down her back in gorgeous wavy curls that made her feel like a real celebrity, not just one that was invented a few years prior as a cover. Her lips had been expertly painted red, per her request, and her eyelids swiped with a shimmering neutral beige that caught the light in her room whimsically. Mascara had been applied just to the top lashes to elongate them, fanned to the corners to create volume.

By the time the stylists had finished their work, she was left standing in her robe to place her new earrings in by herself. Carlos entered the room, carrying the bag containing her gown. "Are you ready?"

"Oui." She dropped her robe, revealing the white lingerie set beneath. It had been carefully chosen for that evening. Snow white in color. The bra was cut low to accommodate an evening gown of the same style, the high waisted panties were made of the same white satin and shown beautifully beneath her garter belt. She had chosen translucent white stockings, not knowing whether or not the gown would have been long or not when she laid everything out the night before.

Carlos averted his eyes and gave her a nervous look. "I don't believe the brassiere will work tonight," he said slowly and unzipped the bag. She had only glanced at the gown, unable to take in its full beauty as it rested within its packaging, but he was right. He pulled it out on a hanger and turned it this way and that for her to see. It was completely backless with a plunging neckline to top it all off, but it was gorgeous. Sleek red silk, smooth to the touch, gleamed in the light. It was floor length, and Carlos was grinning proudly beside it. "Those may prove problematic as well." He was noticeably weary of informing her that she wouldn't be able to wear anything beneath the dress. "The stockings will do fine though."

"Oh." She didn't know what to say.

Genevieve turned around and looked back over her shoulder. "Wait outside, I'll call for you if I need assistance. She wasn't about to give the little Spaniard a show. Without a word he sat the dress on the bed and left her to it. The gown fit like a glove and was tailored to perfection. It couldn't have been more of a perfect asset to her already slim figure. It showed off her tight waist and her curvy hips and gave her an overwhelming sense of self confidence.

Carlos rapped his knuckles on her door after several minutes had passed. "Is everything all right?" he called.

"Quite alright," she replied in awe. "It's safe to enter." She was standing in front of the mirror still, twirling and enjoying the way the gown crimped as she did so.

Carlos opened the door and made an excited squeal. "It looks even lovelier on you than it did the mannequin. You could be a model for my work!" He clapped his hands excitedly. She beamed at his enthusiasm, but the color drained from both of their faces when the doorbell echoed throughout the home. Even Waltz paused from licking himself, his ears perking up.

"Have a pleasant evening, it has been an absolute pleasure dressing you," Carlos told her sincerely.

"Merci beaucoup, Carlos." She dipped her head as he scurried down the stairs.

Genevieve made sure to strap on her silver heels and clicked her way down the stairs after patting Waltz. She passed by Noemi on her way down as she was bringing up fresh towels. "Oh! Noemi! Would you be a dear and take care of Waltz while I'm out for the evening? He doesn't like to go to sleep alone."

"Of course!" She couldn't contain her joy and skipped the rest of the way up the steps to the linen closet.

The doorbell rang one more time as she descended the last step. "Coming!" she huffed out, grabbing her purse from the entryway table. Her three lipstick tubes she had borrowed from Lucile were stashed inside along with her papers and new cigarette holder.

Genevieve smoothed down her dress and cleared her throat before opening the door for the colonel. It fed her sinful pride to see the way he eyed her, momentarily at a loss for words. His eyes raked over her figure before a wicked grin broke out and he held out one hand, the other behind his back. "You look ravishing, as always," he cooed at her as she placed her hand in his.

"Merci," she thanked him and stepped out into the cool night. He was wearing his dress uniform, it was gray rather than the black he wore on duty. This one was decorated in medals and pendants to paint a picture of his illustrious career as the right hand man of Himmler, and a close confident of Hitler. He escorted her to the car and they were off.

"Do you like your dress, Bärchen?" He kept his gaze on the road, but she was busy taking in his features.

"I do, I'm very grateful for it. The other gifts as well." She pulled her hair behind her ear to show him the dangling pearl earring. "They are all, how do you say it...wunderschön."

He glanced over at her and smiled crookedly. "Du bist wunderschön."

She had the good sense to blush at his words and earned a low chuckle in response. "Will there be many people there? At the ball?"

"You're asking if it will be exclusive?"

"Oui."

"Somewhat. There will be approximately two hundred in attendance. No enlisted men, unless they are of significance. It's just for the officers and esteemed guests. A few celebrities may even show up. It's a big occasion." He radiated pride and sat up straighter in his seat.

Genevieve pulled out her new cigarette holder and noted the way he looked at her, almost happily. But she knew a man like him was incapable of such feelings. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she queried sweetly.

"By all means," he purred.

She placed one of the German cigarettes in the holder and lit it, letting the smoke swirl around them briefly before crack the window. "So you are a rather important man, aren't you Nicolas? If the Führer is making an appearance at your award ceremony, you must be famous." She blew smoke rings over the dashboard.

Nicolas chortled at her words. "Famous to the Germans. Infamous to all others." She grimaced out the window at his statement. "I am being recognized for my war strategies during the capturing of two hundred and eleven Jews after a five month long search. I lead an army of soldiers into Sedan and helped to defeat the French army, as well as uncover a church sheltering Jews beneath it. As you can imagine, it was quite the ordeal. The news of my feat traveled quickly and once the Führer heard of it, a proposal to award me for my ventures was put in motion. Tonight, I will receive the fruit of my labors."

She swallowed the bile rising in the back of her throat. Those poor people. There was no doubt in her mind that none of them were still alive. She opted for smoking to occupy her mouth, giving her a temporary excuse to be silent. The trip to the opera house didn't take long, and soon they were pulling into the large parking area. She reached for the door handled, but the colonel put his hand on her shoulders. "Nein, nein. Tonight, fraulein, you are my personal guest." She forced a smile before he went around to open the door for her.

It felt stuffy all of the sudden in that Mercedes for the few moments of solitude she had in there. The colonel held one hand behind his back, the other opening the door and then extending towards her. She took it and was delicately plucked from the vehicles as a whir of flashes and shouting began. Photographers snapped their picture together and yelled out questions about the two of them. "Herr Roemheld! Right this way!" The dark haired waiter and café operator, Benito, was jogging towards them and ushering them into the building. It was comforting to know her allies were already placed within.

Nicolas leaned down and put his lips beside her ear. "All eyes will be on you tonight so long as you are on my arm." It both intrigued and frightened her at the prospect. She had the good grace to smile sweetly as they were lead through the doors of the opera house. What was once a venue with myriad seats was now gutted and polished to resemble a large auditorium. She was pleased to see that the seats up in the balconies still remained. They were historical. French royalty would use them to look down on the arts and it would have been an utter shame to see them demolished. The house was seeing an all new history unfold now.

"Colonel Nicolas Roemheld! And who might this beauty be?" She couldn't remember how to breath. This was what she had been trained to do, what she had been waiting for. Meeting her various targets, ,assessing their weaknesses and strengths, and forming a plan. Now that one of the most evil of them stood before her, her chest squeezed and threatened to have her faint. Dr. Joseph Broehm had sought them out with a glass of champagne in his calloused hand.

"Your wife isn't around, you don't have to pretend not to know who she is, Doctor," Nicolas replied with humor.

The doctor burst into laughter, spilling some of his drink in front of Genevieve's open toed shoes. "You caught me. I didn't think it would be appropriate to admit I know all about Genevieve Blondeau." He turned to her and took her hand in his, kissing it with dry lips. "Your reputation proceeds you. You are more beautiful than the very image of Freyja herself. The men of old would have surely worshiped you, had they had the good fortune to look up the face of pure radiance as I am now."

"You are too kind." She hadn't intended for the words to come out cold, but they had. Luckily, the doctor was already drunk and laughed it away.

"And she speaks excellent German! Your accent has been perfected." He was still clutching her hand and she found herself glancing up at the colonel for help.

"She's quite the woman. If you don't mind, Dr. Broehm, if you don't stop soon you may just steal my date from under my nose." She wanted to scoff, to laugh forcefully at the notion, but bit the inside of her cheek and remained complacent.

He dropped her hand at once and swigged the rest of his champagne. "Forgive me, forgive me." He waved a hand about. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you face to face. Normally, my wife would be next to me greeting you as well, but she is giving birth to our second child tonight."

"Your wife is in labor now?" Genevieve's eyes widened.

"As we speak she is likely discovering if we are going to have a little boy or a girl." He snapped his fingers angrily and flagged down a server. "When you see that my glass is empty you should fill it! A waste of time on my end to have to order another."

The woman stammered an apology in French, quickly switching out his glass for one of the full ones she carried.

"Don't let it happen again!" He tapped his index finger to his forehead and pointed it at her. The girl's eyes brimmed with tears as she whisked away his empty glass. "It appears not every French woman is a civilized as you, fraulein. Pity."

She felt her nails digging through the silky black gloves into the colonel's arm. "You're quite right, doctor. Please excuse us, I don't wish to be rude, but we need to say hello to a few more faces before they start to grow offended." He turned her away from him, making to leave.

The doctor was busy drowning himself in his drink and shooed them with his hands. "Of course, of course." He dribbled a bit of his drink down the front of his white shirt. "By all means, you're tonight's big celebrity." Nicolas inclined his head respectfully before whisking her away from the horrid drunk.

"An interesting fellow, isn't he?"

"Indeed," she replied quietly, careful not to insult a single member of Hitler's esteemed party.

Nicolas chuckled at her response. "You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" She feigned innocence as they made their way towards the center of the room. A string band was playing softly as the brass were polishing their instruments for what was sure to be a long evening. The music was slow and delicate and even in the midst of Nazis, she couldn't help but be pulled by its wonder.

"Pretend not to notice how much of a pig the doctor is." It was the first time he looked down at her without an ulterior motive. His smile was different, reaching his eyes and crinkling them at the edges. It was as though he was actually being kind to her. "When you are on my arm, you are above suspicion just as I am. No one will insult you because they fear me so. This includes the doctor. While his experiments are important to the cause, they can be done by any doctor we pluck from our homeland. I on the other hand," she gasped when he spun her out and pulled her against his chest, "cannot be replaced." She let his words sink in. It felt suspiciously like permission to do whatever she wanted, but she was too smart for that. There were hundreds of bodies already on the dance floor moving to the music and she felt it was the perfect time to blend in and maintain the façade of the ditsy whore of a French girl.

"You must be so proud of your achievements," she purred up at him.

Something flickered behind his eyes. Something that almost resembled...ruefulness. She shook the very thought from her head, recalling who exactly it was that she had came with. "Necessary for the good of the cause." His short tone didn't quell her inkling.

She chose to keep quiet, not wanting to push him further and rouse his incertitude. She didn't have to stay silent for long before his hand traveled down her exposed back and rested just at the small of it. "Well?" He smirked down at her as a new instrumental began to play throughout the space.

Genevieve recognized it immediately. "Waltz of the Flowers," she hummed, familiar with the elegant tune. He stepped in front of her and half bowed, offering her his hand. She was going to dance with an SS officer at a Nazi ball in the accompaniment of one of the most ruthless Standartenführers the war had ever seen. She hesitantly slipped her hand into his and was tugged into his chest. The smell of his cologne and aftershave filled her nostrils, and for one brief and blissful moment she imagined herself in a different situation, in another life, dancing with the colonel as if he wasn't a murderer, but a man. A man far away from any war and strife.

She danced expertly and, to her astonishment, the colonel moved with ease and skillfulness. He never missed a step, smirking at her when she would perfectly execute each step of the dance. She could see eyes turning their way from every direction. Some had stopped dancing to watch them move. Nicolas brought his mouth down to her ear and she heard a throaty laugh escape his lips. "I can see why this is your favorite dance. Every single person in this room wishes they could move like you. See?" He spun her around, her back to his chest as they moved in a circle. It was true. Nearly everyone was staring at her. The men ogling her, the women looking on in jealousy that it was not them who the handsome colonel had invited. She spun back around, one hand around his neck while the other clasped his hand as he lead her into the final few steps.

"Clearly, I'm not the only one who enjoys a good waltz. You've been practicing," she commented on his skill. His hands dropped to her waist as he picked her up, twirling her effortlessly in the air as a few gasps rose up in the crowd.

"On the contrary, until tonight I'd never danced the waltz. I stayed up most of the night with my secretary learning all the steps. I'm pleased to see that she didn't injure her foot in vain." He chuckled.

Genevieve furrowed her brows. "She injured her foot?"

The colonel grimaced. "Not exactly her fault. She had to endure me stepping on her with my two left feet, and I'm afraid it resulted in a swollen ankle and a slight limp for the remainder of the week."

"Two left feet?" Genevieve glanced down as he twirled her around the dance floor with expertise. "I would have never imagined." She gave him a pursed lip smile as the band began to wrap up their song.

"Is that a compliment?" he taunted, bringing her flush against him and dipping her low, his hand snaking up the low cut in her gown and slithering between her breasts, resting behind her neck to pull her back up as an applause erupted from every corner of the room. They both stood, staring at each other, catching their breath. The clapping sounded like a distant whir with the way his eyes searched hers. Her skin began to prickle from the internal heat that suddenly coursed through her.

"Well done! Well done!" The atrocious voice was all too infamous to not recognize. She tore her eyes away from Nicolas and turned to see the führer approaching with a giddy grin on his face. The little spit of hair above his upper lip stretched when he smiled.

Nicolas shifted behind her, snapping to attention and saluting the man with his arm straight as an arrow. "Nicolas!" He halted the formal gesture. "Introduce me to this lovely creature." It was the hardest task she had ever taken on, standing in the presence of Adolf Hitler himself, and holding in her vomit. Nerves, disgust, it was all bubbling together in the pit of her stomach. She subconsciously backed closer into the colonel.

"Ah, yes my führer." He took Genevieve's hand in his and kissed it. "This is my guest, Genevieve."

"What a beautiful name. Gen-eh-vieve." She had never wished she had taken a code name more in her life than when she had to endure listening to the pronunciation of her birth name from the venomous tongue of the German's murderous leader.

"Merci," she said a bit dryly. She was glad they both mistook it for nerves.

Hitler laughed and it sounded like a noise he wasn't accustomed to making. "You know, I've tried to convince the colonel here to settle down and find a good German woman, like the rest of my men." Genevieve did her best to not look offended. "But I can see what drew him to you." Goosebumps sprouted up all over her as he reached out to pet her hair, smiling to himself as he did so.

"You are too kind," she spoke, careful to keep her voice measured.

Hitler dropped her curls and held his belly, laughing. "I'm making her uncomfortable!" he bellowed as though she wasn't standing in front of him. "Nicolas, you lucky man!" He clapped him on the back and she watched the colonel's face distort for a fraction of a second. He seemed to be acting less like his cocky self, and more like everyone else in Hitler's presence.  "While I have you, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Ask away," the colonel said with only the slightest of hesitation.

"I want a private investigation started in your department.  You have a knack for weeding out traitors and undesireables, and I have reason to believe that there may be a double agent in our midst at the Gestapo base.  The SS, I know, are sharing the headquarters.  I doubt very much the blame lies in your department, but I want it looked into nonetheless."  Genevieve didn't breathe, she didn't move, she made herself statuesque so as not to remind them that she was there and could hear every word of their conversation.  Nicolas was sober, keeping his voice low when he answered.

"A traitor?  Who else has been notified?  Himmler?" he asked in a rush.

Hitler waved his hand dismissively.  "Just you, Nicolas.  I trust you will keep this between us.  It was brought to my attention that five Jewish beasts managed to escape," he paused, glancing at Genevieve as she pretended to be more interested in the band than their conversation, "to get lost," he corrected himself.  "They may be posing as French.  I don't want them crossing the borders and making a mockery of all our progress.  Do you understand what I am asking of you?" Hitler narrowed his eyes at the colonel.  He wasn't known for being cunning by any means.  That was Himmler, his right hand man.  No...Hitler was sloppy, tactless, and arrogant.  

"Of course.  I will find them and the culprit responsible for their release," he vowed.

"Excuse me, I need to go find the restroom." Genevieve didn't wait for an answer and briskly walked from the strange encounter. She had done it. The order was unsure if it would work, but she did it. She caught Adolf Hitler's eye, and what's more is that he openly admitted his attraction. Easy as pie.  The order would be ecstatic to hear of the added bonus she had been privy to overhear.  It would intrigue them to hear that someone had freed five Jews.  To her knowledge, they were the only team working in occupied France to smuggle Jews and overthrow the new rule.  It would shock everyone to learn that another was helping to free the oppressed.

She found the restroom, much as it used to be. The gold and white theme was still present, though now red banners with the swastika decorated the walls wherever there was room to hang them. "I do so love parties." She tried to use the code words.

Nothing.

"I do so love parties." She tried again to no avail. No guide for the evening. It must have been too exclusive to gain anyone entry so last minute. She sighed and washed her hands, getting rid of the kisses the colonel had bestowed upon them. There was an overwhelming feeling that she couldn't shake about how different the colonel seemed tonight. There was an air about him that wasn't usually present. It was almost akin to...fear, or nervousness, perhaps even a bit of sadness. She couldn't place it exactly. It enticed her, but it also scared her. She didn't want to learn that he felt remorse for his actions, not when she was charged with bringing him in. It was best for her if the image of the cold Standartenführer was just as evil in person as he was on paper. She knew better than anyone that that was rarely the case. She wasn't the monster that her files pinned her as. She had to commit several atrocities in the name of her missions in order to keep up her false identity without rousing suspicion.  Such actions would haunt her all her life, but they ultimately resulted in the completion of her missions and sometimes that made it worth it.

Genevieve wandered back down the hallway, in search of her date. The last thing she wanted was to get pulled into a conversation with a group of people she couldn't care less about. Her mission had specific targets, and the random men and women she passed were not it. She turned the corner to reenter the main area when she felt a brick wall of a man run into her. Eric had stumbled directly onto her right foot. "You idiot!" she squealed in French and lifted her poor foot, putting pressure on it to relieve the aching it now suffered from.

Eric pulled a face. "Genevieve! How lovely it is to see you! I was just talking to my wife about her beautiful friend." He eyed her hungrily with glassy red eyes.

She scoffed and pushed him back. "You're drunk, Eric. Go back to Hilda.  Is she here tonight?" She made to move past him, but he grabbed her upper arm and slammed her against the wall. The corner was just out of reach where the crowd could possibly see her, but it wouldn't matter. Nicolas was undoubtedly busying himself with working the crowd since it was his event after all, and she highly doubted a single attendee would care to help her if they glanced in her direction. "Eric! Ouch!" She made a show of grabbing her arm and rubbing it.

His eyes followed her hands and a flicker of remorse crossed his features. "Did I hurt you, fraulein?" He reached out to touch her arm delicately.

"Yes, you did. If you'll excuse me I need to get back to my escort." She stepped around him and felt him push her back, more gently this time, but still just as threatening.

"You have a German escort this evening?" His brows pinched together. "Who? Some stück scheiße private?"

She opened her mouth to respond, ready to put the lieutenant in his place. "Nein." Eric whirled around to see Nicolas glowering at him. His aura was so intense that Genevieve felt some of his anger burn in her direction.

The lieutenant snapped his heels together, standing tall with arms at his sides, as the color drained from his face. "Colonel Roemheld."

"Are you quite alright, Genevieve?" He held his hand out and she took it greedily, allowing him to pull her into his chest as a protective arm snaked around her waist. His eyes never left Eric's. "Is there a problem here lieutenant?"

"Nein, Standartenführer." Eric kept his gaze fixed on a spot on the wall behind the colonel.

"What about you, Genevieve. Would you say there was a problem?" He didn't look at her until she began to subconsciously massage her sore upper arm where a slight redness was visible. He picked up the limb and inspected it. Before she could protest, he moved her to the side and charged at the lieutenant, pinning him against the wall by his throat. "Did you dare to put your hands on her!" he seethed in his face.

Eric's eyes flew open, his face reddening. "I-I didn't know! I didn't know she was with you!"

A few people had walked by the hallway, peering curiously at the scene. Genevieve stepped carefully forward, placing a calming touch to the colonel's back and using her other hand to gently grip the arm that pinned the terrified man. "You are drawing attention to yourself, Nicolas," she whispered into his ear. He didn't move, his eyes were fixed on the lieutenant and his face as it shifted from red to blue. "Nicolas!" She pulled at his hand, trying to pry it from Eric's throat, and thankfully he let her remove it.

Eric collapsed against the wall in a fit of gasps and coughs, desperately trying to gulp in the air. Genevieve stared at the colonel in shock, she had never seen him act so abrasively against a fellow German.  Sure, he'd barely hesitated before he shot the private that assaulted her, but this was a lieutenant.  A very well known lieutenant.  "Let's go rejoin the party. They are about to make the announcements." His tone was harsh as he took her hand and lead her away from the scene. A few people had began to stare, whispering to one another at the sight of the enraged colonel and the struggling lieutenant. She felt her cheeks warm at the unwanted attention.

"Everyone is staring at us," she mumbled in distraught.

The colonel scoffed, not replying to her. Instead, he took her hand in his and brought her back into his chest to sway to the music. It was uncomfortably silent for half of a song, before he finally spoke up. She hadn't expected to see him staring so intently at her when she glanced up, but she couldn't pull her eyes away once they had settled on the icy blue orbs. "Did he hurt you?" She was pleased to hear French flow from his lips. His eyes softened and she could hear the raw concern in his words.  Unnerving, to be worried over by such darkness.

"Nothing I can't handle," she responded in that same language.

His eyes travelled down to the arm she had previously rubbed. The redness was already gone, leaving no evidence of anything ever happening. He hummed in thought, lifting her and spinning her around. She gasped, not expecting the move and grasping his shoulders for stability as a slew of people applauded their dance once more. He set her feet back on the floor only to spin her out and back into him. Her back rested against his chest, feeling the drumming of his heart, as he bent his head forward and whispered into her ear, "Don't pretend you didn't want to see me tear that man apart. He's the one that was responsible for the siege of your neighbors home." She hadn't paid much attention to the overtaking of her neighbors, if they could even be called that. Everyone with a home in the hills had ample space between them. If it hadn't been for the plumes of smoke rising in the south, she would have never known anything had happened to her aunt and uncle's old friends.

"Why do you care?" She refused to react the way he wanted. With the colonel's reputation it could have easily been a trap to get her to admit to sympathizing with the Jews should she say anything negative about the Germans.

He spun her back around to face him. "It isn't that I care, so much as why you don't." He eyed her curiously and she felt immense pressure of her training kick in to answer as carefully as possible. If she gave herself away, she would surely be killed. If she gave herself away in an opera house filled with Nazis...

"I don't pretend to know anything of war and all that it entails. Do I wish that innocent French lives weren't wasted? Of course. Am I so blind to believe that every French life is innocent. I should think not." She kept her breathing controlled and precise, waiting to see how he responded.

He seemed to mull over what she said and smiled. "Of course." His thumb drew small circles over her exposed back and the warmth shot through her body. "Let's not discuss politics anymore. Not here."

She breathed out in relief as the music cut out and she watched the führer walked up to the stage to begin the ceremony. Nicolas pulled her close to his side, away from the other Germans that began to flock around them to see the event unfold. "He is married to my childhood friend, you know," she said under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear. "Eric is."

Nicolas straightened up and cleared his throat. "All the more reason he should keep his hands off of you."

"Guten abend!" It made her skin crawl to hear the thick German tongue reverberate through the room. A few officers shouted their traditional salutes and were quieted down by an amused looking Hitler. "We are not here to celebrate me tonight." The modesty sounded foreign coming from him. "Tonight, we honor one of our own. One of the finest German officers I have ever been privileged to know. Colonel Nicolas Roemheld!" Everyone around them turned and clapped. It was deafening. "Come up here, Colonel! Be recognized for your bravery and impeccable leadership in the great war!"

"Follow me." She didn't want any part of being near Hitler again that evening, but she didn't want to be left behind in a sea of Germans either. She let him lead her through the crowd that parted for them just as they had the first night she met the colonel. He stopped at the steps on the side of the stage and signaled for her to wait for him, while he ascended to receive his award.

The sound of applause rang in her ears and she barely registered the speech. Too many people were cheering and whistling. "It is my great honor to serve my country and my führer," Nicolas said as Hitler pinned a new medal onto his clustered uniform. There were already so many awards that she found it hard to believe the new one would not fall off from lack of space.

"This will be the second time in history that this medal has been bestowed on a German officer. I can't think of a more deserving man to receive such an honor. I hereby present Colonel Nicolas Roemheld with the Star of the Grand Cross of the Iron Cross. May you continue to serve Germany and the Third Reich." He stepped back as Nicolas assumed the salute. The crowd fell into the same position until Hitler, having his fill of recognition, spoke into the microphone. "Let us celebrate this evening! Dance, drink, and pray for the swift fall of all those who oppose us!" She winced as more cheers echoed throughout the expanse. Hitler shook his hand and gestured for them both to exit the stage.

Genevieve held her breath as the führer approached her once more. Nicolas wasted no time in pulling her close to him again, before turning back. "You must feel so proud to be on the arm of such an accomplished man."

"Indeed," she agreed begrudgingly.

"And you, quite the catch you made there. I'm sure with the power you hold over the people, any one of these French women would have thrown themselves at your feet rather than face the alternatives." He laughed as though he had told the funniest joke, but the phrasing made her stomach clench.

She didn't miss the way Nicolas stiffened at her side. "The alternatives?" She chanced the question, not really expecting an answer.

Hitler waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, fraulein. You have nothing to worry about." He picked up her hand without warning and pressed a lengthy kiss to the back of it. He kissed her three times, moving up to her inner wrist before patting her on the head like a child and walking back into the crowd to enjoy the festivities. Nicolas was saying something in her ear, but she couldn't focus on his words. The only thought that swam through her mind was how she was going to incorporate the assassination of Hitler into her capture of the colonel and the doctor. If she planned it out carefully, using all her resources, she could end the war in one fell swoop.