Chapter 14: Uninvited guest
Isabella’s breath seized in her throat. She couldn’t see the man standing down there, but that voice hit her like a bucket of ice water.
The hard knot in her chest loosened just a bit, replaced by a sudden wave of relief.
He was actually here. He hadn’t dumped her off to rot in Kian’s house.
Before she could even get her feet under her, Kian stepped right in front of her, using his broad shoulders to hide her from Aaron.
"What are you doing here, Kazarov?" Kian said, his voice dripping with poison, though he kept his head up for the cameras. "You weren’t invited."
Aaron let out a dry little laugh, taking another slow pull from his cigar.
"Not invited? Now you’re hurting my feelings, Kian. I could’ve sworn my name was on the list." He offered a small, mocking grin, not caring at all about the lie.
"That never happened," Kian snapped, his jaw working hard as he tried to keep his temper in check. "You’re trespassing."
All across the ballroom, the quiet broke into a wave of fast whispering.
"Is that Aaron Kazarov?" a girl at the front table muttered, pulling her phone out of her bag. "What’s he doing here?"
"I thought Carter hated his guts," her dad whispered back, his face going pale as he stared at the stage. "That guy’s trouble. More than half the city’s underground runs through his office."
"Look at Carter’s face," another guy whispered to his wife, taking a fast drink of wine. "He looks like he’s about to strangle him right on the floor. This is getting bad. Or maybe it’s good. "
Over at Table Twelve, Alice stood frozen, her fingers digging into the edge of the tablecloth.
She stared at Aaron, her heart hammering in her throat. She’d heard all the rumors about the Kazarov name, but seeing him in person, standing there totally calm, dark, and dangerous in front of hundreds of people, sent a cold chill right down her spine.
"What the hell is this?" Vivienne whispered beside her, eyes wide. "Why is Kian shoving his wife behind his back like that?"
Alice didn’t say anything. She couldn’t pull her eyes off the stage.
Aaron took a slow step forward, his shoes clicking on the hard floor.
He didn’t care about the guards shuffling toward him, and he didn’t care about the news cameras flashing from the side.
His eyes stayed locked right on the edge of the pink dress showing behind Kian’s dark suit.
"Come on, Kian," Aaron said, his tone casual, almost friendly, though his eyes were sharp. "Don’t be like that. It’s your birthday. I came to give my best. And I wanted to see how Miss Isabella’s doing."
Kian’s face went dark, a twitch pulling at his cheek. He shifted further left, totally blocking Isabella from view.
"Keep my wife’s name out of your mouth. You’ve got no business with her, and you’ve got no business in this room."
"Kian..." Isabella muttered soft from behind his shoulder, her voice shaking as she tried to pull her hand out of his tight grip. "What’s going on?"
"Stay behind me, Bella," Kian muttered quickly, not turning around. "It’s fine. Just an uninvited guest who doesn’t know when to leave."
He raised his voice so the press could hear. "If you don’t turn around and walk out right now, I’m having security throw you into the street."
The room went dead silent again. Two photographers leaned over the velvet ropes, snapping shots as fast as they could.
Aaron’s smirk faded, replaced by a flat, steady calm. He took the cigar from his lips, letting the smoke drift up between them.
"I wouldn’t call your guys, Mr. Carter," Aaron said softly. "Unless you brought enough to fill a graveyard, it’s gonna be a rough night for your staff."
Kian saw his shot and took it, shouting it out for the crowd and the cameras. "Is that a threat, Kazarov? At a peaceful event? You really are just a thug, aren’t you?"
He pulled at his collar, trying to look like the noble guy defending his people. "This is a respectable venue. Get out."
Aaron listened to the speech, a faint, amused look returning to his eyes. He saw right through Kian... using the dark rumors to make himself look like the good guy for the reporters.
"You’re right," Aaron said, giving a small, fake shrug. "My mistake. I wouldn’t want to ruin a nice family party. I didn’t come to throw hands with your hired help."
Kian sneered. "Then leave."
"I’m just here to pick up something I left behind," Aaron said smoothly, like he hadn’t heard a word. "Something that belongs to me."
A wave of confusion ran through the tables.
"Belongs to him?" an old senator whispered, brow furrowing. "What’s he talking about? A contract?"
"Does Carter owe him money?" a woman near the front asked, holding her pearls.
Phones came out all over the room. Live streams popped up, screens lighting up people’s faces as they filmed the standoff.
Kian let out a short, dry laugh, though his eyes looked frantic. "Nothing in this room is yours, Kazarov. Whatever junk you’re looking for, it’s not here. Get out."
Aaron smiled, that same slow, mean grin that made Kian’s blood boil.
"Oh, it’s here," Aaron said softly. He raised a hand, pointing a finger past Kian’s shoulder. "She’s standing right behind you."