Coop’s arm tightened around me for just a second before he released me. “Sure.”
Oliver took Coop’s place with practiced ease, one hand claiming my waist while the other enveloped mine. He moved with surprising grace for someone who spent his time planning domestic terrorism.
“You look absolutely stunning tonight,” he said, his eyes traveling down the dress he’d selected. “Burgundy suits you.”
“Thank you for the dress.” I forced the words out. “It’s beautiful.”
“Of course it is. I have exquisite taste.” He pressed his hand slightly harder against my back, pulling me a fraction closer. “In all things.”
I forced myself not to stiffen, to move with him naturally. “The party is incredible. I wouldn’t have expected something so elegant out here.”
“Appearances matter, Mia. Even revolutionaries appreciate sophistication.” He spun me, the dress flaring around my ankles, my Converses hidden beneath the silk. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“It’s certainly been…educational.”
“Indeed. And did you find Coop’s performance today educational as well?” His eyes studied my face. “At the shooting competition?”
“I found it impressive.” That was safe enough—it was true.
“More than impressive. He beat me.” Oliver’s voice held no anger, just contemplation. “Not many men would dare.”
“Should he have let you win?”
Oliver laughed, the sound cultured but cold. “If he had, I would have known. Men like Coop don’t lose at things that matter. His pride wouldn’t allow it.”
“And that doesn’t bother you? Losing?”
“On the contrary, it tells me exactly who I’m dealing with. A man who won’t cater to anyone, even when it might be politically wise.” His eyes found Coop across the room, talking with two buyers while still watching us. “That’s either admirable or dangerous.”
“Which do you think it is?”
“Both.” He looked back at me. “Tell me, did you find it exciting? Watching him win?”
There was something in his tone, a weight to the question that warned me to be careful.
“Yes,” I admitted, because complete honesty seemed safer than a lie he might detect. “There’s something primal about watching a man prove himself in that way, I’m not sure why. It’s…attractive.”
“Biology,” Oliver said with satisfaction. “Women are naturally drawn to strength, to men who demonstrate their ability to provide and protect. It’s encoded in your DNA, no matter what modern society tries to tell you.”
I bit back my initial response—that women were drawn to many things, strength being only one of them. Instead, I changed the subject.
“Coop mentioned he won something. A head start?”
Oliver’s smile turned mysterious. “All in good time.”
“You enjoy the mystery, don’t you? The dramatic reveals?”
“I enjoy theater, yes. Life should have grand moments, don’t you think? Crescendos that make the heart race?” His hand on my back traced a small circle, the touch making my skin crawl. “Are you curious about tonight’s festivities?”
I tried to sound casually interested rather than desperate for information. “Everyone seems excited about it.”
“As they should be. It’s legendary among our circle. Something that sets us apart from ordinary men playing at revolution.”
“What kind of event could do that?”
He spun me again, using the movement to pull me closer when I came back to him. “The kind that strips away civilization’s pretty lies. That reveals who we really are beneath the suits and pleasantries.”
“That sounds…intense.”
