Page 82 of Winterveil

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“It was a hostage situation.”

“Then you perform well under pressure,” said Klaudia. Her tone was so idle that Julian couldn’t quite be certain, but he thought it might almost be a compliment.

“It didn’t instantly lose me the nomination, at least,” said Julian. “Cafferty—my campaign manager—pulled off some remarkable spins.”

“I don’t think it needed a spin.” Klaudia’s voice took on a contemplative quality. “It was . . .”

“Magnetic? Beguiling?”

“A decent strategic move.” She met his gaze. “Your hesitation showed itself as restraint. Your discomfort looked mature in contrast with the host. If anything, he came off as childish and inane. And you came off as . . . more than eighteen.”

That was definitely a compliment. Or at least as near to one as he was ever likely to get. Julian kept his eyes locked with Klaudia’s and smiled.

“It wasn’t really strategy,” he said. “It was performance.”

Klaudia shrugged. “They’re more alike than not.”

“Maybe. Conveyance of power is as important as power itself.”

“You paid attention in Professor Narendra’s class.”

“I had to, if I was going to beat you.” Julian felt oddly sheepish as he spoke. Something about the intensity of her gaze made his stomach flutter, not in the way of intimidation, but in the way of captivation. He liked having her undivided attention. “In order for a threat to be credible, your enemies have to believe you can make good on it.”

“Therefore it’s rational to engage in some level of showmanship,” Klaudia said. She was almost smiling.

“You’d make a good politician.”

“No,” she said, the faint amusement on her face fading. “I don’t have the charm.”

“I find you charming.”

Admittedly, he only said it because he wanted to make her blush again.

But she didn’t. Instead, she replied dispassionately, “You’re a smooth talker.”

Julian could almost see the mask forming. The vulnerable side of Klaudia armoring itself again. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed, and maybe that was why he strode over to the table, lifted the inexplicably provided bottle of vodka, and said, “We might as well find some way to amuse ourselves until Nadiya and Giselle get back.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why did Deckard include it, if he didn’t want us to enjoy it?”

“Because he saw your performance on The Tonight Show and thought he could tempt you.”

He was pretty sure it was a rare attempt at a joke by Klaudia, but she was probably also right. Deckard’s attention to detail was so exacting it was most likely yet another abstruse test. His expectations of Julian were even lower than he’d initially thought.

“Then what should we do?” he asked. “Stare at each other from our own corners of the room?”

“I had another idea.”

Klaudia strode away, into one of the side rooms. In another moment, she emerged with a glossy wooden box—a chess set.

“Are you sure?” Julian arched a brow. “I am nationally ranked.”

“I know.”

Maybe his strategic inclinations should have led him toward becoming a grandmaster instead of a disgraced politician. Julian felt a familiar lift in his stomach, a giddy sensation that always accompanied him during tournaments. Both the certainty of victory and the possibility of loss were thrilling, like the peaks and plummets of a carnival ride.