Chapter 71: The Kingmakers
When Aaron stepped into the room, he expected to see the Minister, the white-haired political kingmaker who had pulled the strings of Russian governance for forty years.
He had not expected to see Alexei Orlov.
Aaron paused just inside the heavy oak doors, his dark eyes sweeping over the two men sitting by the hearth.
Alexei Orlov stood up with a slow, deliberate grace. He was in his late fifties, his silver hair brushed neatly back, wearing a suit cut so perfectly it looked like armor.
The Orlov family was one of the oldest in the Lotus Alliance, a founding bloodline that had once held the top seat long before Aaron stepped in a decade ago and reorganized the entire structure of power, pushing the Orlovs down to second place.
Alexei offered a calm, polite hand. "Aaron."
Aaron took his hand, his grip solid and unyielding. "Alexei."
Neither man smiled with their eyes. The handshake was brief, a polite wrapper over years of deep, bitter resentment.
Alexei had never forgiven Aaron for taking the lead of the alliance, but in this room, under these lights, they both wore the quiet masks of civil business partners.
Sitting across from Alexei was a third man, and he was the reason Aaron’s focus instantly sharpened.
The man looked to be in his early fifties, wearing a sharp dark suit. He had the posture of an important man, but his hands gave him away.
His fingers kept tapping nervously against the stem of his glass, and his eyes flicked toward Aaron the moment he entered, filled with a sudden, tense energy.
He didn’t have the heavy, quiet weight of the other men in the room. He was a man who wanted power, not a man who was born owning it.
"You know Viktor Sokolov," the Minister said, his low, gravelly voice breaking the silence. The old kingmaker sat in a high-backed leather chair near the fire, a glass of dark liquor resting in his hand. He gestured for Aaron to take a seat.
Aaron sat down in the leather chair opposite Alexei, unbuttoning his coat. "Governor Sokolov," Aaron said, his voice flat.
Sokolov cleared his throat, leaning forward just an inch too eagerly. "Mr. Kazarov. It’s an honor to finally meet you in person. I’ve heard a great deal about—"
"I’m sure you have," Aaron cut him off gently, his gaze shifting back to the Minister.
Aaron knew Sokolov’s name. The man was running for a key seat in the upcoming federal elections, but he was trailing behind a popular opponent.
More importantly, Aaron knew how Sokolov had built his political ladder.
Years ago, the Kingston family had poured millions of dollars into industrial development projects in Sokolov’s region, back when Isabella’s father, Lance Kingston, was still expanding his global influence.
Sokolov’s career had been quietly propped up by Kingston money.
The Minister took a slow sip from his glass. "Viktor Is facing a difficult path in three months. His opponent has the public favor."
"He’s losing," Aaron corrected plainly.
Sokolov’s jaw tightened, a flush of red creeping up his neck, but he didn’t dare speak back.
The Minister chuckled softly, the dry sound rustling in his chest. "At the moment. But elections are not decided by public favor, Aaron. They are decided by who holds the strings behind the stage."
"And you brought me here to show me the puppet," Aaron said, his tone perfectly even.
"There are only three people in this region who can shift a federal election without ever putting their name on a ballot," the Minister said, looking directly at Aaron. "I am one. Alexei is the second." He paused, letting the silence hang in the air. "And you are the third."
Aaron didn’t blink. He knew why he was there. The Minister wasn’t begging him for a favor; he was setting the board.
By bringing Aaron into the room with Sokolov, the Council was signaling that they wanted Sokolov in that seat, but they needed Aaron’s vast network of financial and strategic backing to guarantee it.
"I’ll think about it," Aaron said simply.
Sokolov looked like he wanted to press for more, but a sharp glance from the Minister silenced him instantly.
Alexei set his glass down on the side table, the crystal clicking against the wood. He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, a small, cold curve touching his lips.
"It’s a heavy time for you to be taking on political moves, Aaron," Alexei said smoothly, his tone sounding almost caring on the surface. "Given how busy you’ve been managing your personal affairs."
Aaron’s eyes moved to Alexei. "My personal affairs are fine."
"Are they?" Alexei’s smile broadened just a fraction. "The press in the West seems to think otherwise. Your name has been dragged through every gossip column from London to New York over the last forty-eight hours."
Sokolov looked away, sensing the sudden drop in the room’s temperature. The Minister simply watched, his old eyes sharp over the rim of his glass.
"Media noise," Aaron said, his voice dropping into a low, steady rumble. "It means nothing."
"It means your focus is divided," Alexei countered gently, as if he were just a worried uncle giving advice.
"You are tying yourself to a woman whose family name is currently in pieces. The Kingston fortune no longer belongs to her. Her ex-husband controls the assets, the board has ousted her, and she is tied up in what looks to be a long, ugly legal war."
Alexei leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me, Aaron. What exactly are you acquiring here? What does the Kingston girl bring to the table?"
The room fell dead silent. The fire crackled in the hearth, popping loudly in the heavy air.
Alexei wasn’t just talking about a bad press story. He was attacking Aaron’s judgment. In their world, marriage was an alliance of power, a pooling of resources to strengthen the bloodline.
Alexei had tried for two years to push his own daughter, Anya, toward Aaron, hoping to fuse the Orlov and Kazarov families into an unstoppable empire.
Aaron had politely shut every attempt down. And now, Aaron was standing publicly behind a woman who had lost her company.
"Careful, Alexei," Aaron said quietly.
Alexei didn’t back off. He smiled, his eyes glinting with old bitterness.
"I am being careful, Aaron. I am looking at the health of our alliance. You chose a woman who brings nothing to your house. She has no land, no power, no corporate leverage left." Alexei shrugged his broad shoulders.
"And from what I hear of Lance Kingston’s daughter, she was raised like a delicate glass doll. She lost her sight and cannot even see the room she walks into. How is a blind, spoiled girl supposed to stand beside the head of the Kazarov family?"
Aaron didn’t shout. He didn’t slam his hand on the table or reach for a weapon.
He simply set his glass down on the small table next to him. The quiet, deliberate sound of the glass hitting the wood was sharper than a gunshot.
When Aaron stood up, the space around him seemed to shrink. He towered over the seating area, his broad frame casting a long, heavy shadow across the rug.
His face was completely smooth, devoid of any anger, but his eyes were so cold they looked completely black.
"Say that again," Aaron said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried a weight that made the blood run cold.