Chapter 13: Hidden Corners
The hallway was dead quiet, long, and lined with heavy wood doors for the private bathrooms.
Kian was standing near the end, checking his watch, when he heard heels clicking fast against the floor behind him. He turned just as Alice slipped through the door, shutting it behind her.
"Alice," Kian said, his voice dropping low and hard. "What are you doing? Anyone could walk in."
Alice didn’t care. She marched right up to him, eyes hot with mad, bitter frustration. She grabbed the lapels of his suit, pulling herself up until she was inches from his face.
"You’re avoiding me," she hissed, her chest heaving against her dress. "You barely look at me at the office, you throw money at my account like I’m some whore you’re trying to pay off, and now you’re playing happy couple with her in front of five hundred people!"
Kian’s face stayed completely blank. He reached up, taking her wrists in a firm grip, pulling her fingers off his jacket. "Alice. Quiet down."
"You’re changing, Kian," she whispered, her voice cracking, tears of anger in her eyes. "You look at her like... like she actually matters. You were supposed to break her, take the money, and dump her! That was the plan!"
Kian just stared down at her, eyes dark and unreadable. He stepped in close, backing her right up against the wood wall, his big hand coming up to cup her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw.
"You’re letting your head get away from you," Kian said, his voice dropping into that quiet, smooth rhythm he always used when he wanted her to stop asking questions.
"Everything I do is to protect what we’re building. If I don’t act like a devoted husband, her dad’s old friends will tie us up in court for five years. Do you want the estate or not?"
"I want you," she choked out, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, dragging his mouth down to hers.
She kissed him with a desperate, wild kind of anger, trying to wipe away the image of him touching Isabella, trying to take back what was hers. Kian didn’t shove her off.
One hand stayed on her throat while the other slid down to squeeze her ass through the tight crimson satin, hiking the dress up roughly.
She was already panting into his mouth, grinding against his thigh.
Her fingers shook with urgency as she dropped to her knees on the hallway floor, the sound of his belt buckle snapping open loud in the quiet corridor.
She yanked his zipper down, eager and clumsy, pulling his heavy cock free. It was only half-hard, but Alice didn’t hesitate.
She looked up at him with glassy, worshipful eyes and took him into her mouth in one wet slide, sucking greedily, hollowing her cheeks as she bobbed her head.
Sloppy, hungry sounds filled the hallway, wet slurps, little whimpers vibrating around his length as she tried so hard to please him, swirling her tongue, taking him deeper until her throat fluttered.
One hand stroked the base while the other clutched his thigh, desperate for any sign he was as affected as she was.
Kian leaned one forearm against the wall, eyes half-lidded, staring down at her with detached boredom.
His free hand rested lightly on the back of her head, not guiding, just resting there. His mind was already back in the ballroom, on the pale pink dress, on Isabella’s trembling fingers, on how perfectly helpless she looked under the lights.
Alice’s eager mouth felt like background noise.After a minute he exhaled sharply, fingers tightening in her hair.
"Enough."He pulled her off his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting her swollen lips to the glistening head.
Alice barely had time to gasp before he spun her around, shoving her chest against the wall.
He kicked her heels apart, yanked the red dress up over her hips, and shoved her lace panties to the side. In one brutal thrust he buried himself inside her soaked pussy, forcing a muffled cry from her throat.
"Fuck—Kian—" she moaned, pushing back against him.
He fucked her hard and fast, hips snapping with efficient, punishing strokes. One hand clamped over her mouth to keep her quiet while the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.
There was no tenderness or dirty talk as per usual, just raw, mechanical pounding, the wet slap of skin echoing off the wood paneling.
Alice came first, shaking and clenching around him with a broken sob, but he didn’t slow down.
He chased his own release with single-minded focus, thrusting deep a few more times before he groaned low and emptied himself inside her, thick pulses of cum filling her up.
The whole thing lasted barely three minutes.
When he pulled back, Kian fixed his cufflinks, his breathing totally steady. He leaned down, pressing his lips to her temple, smoothing her dress straps back into place.
"Get back to your table," he whispered into her ear. "We’ll talk tomorrow. Stop making a scene."
Alice let out a shaky breath, a sharp little smile breaking across her red lips. She nodded, wiping her hair back. "Okay... okay."
She turned and slipped back out into the main room, her heart high, thinking she’d put him back in his place.
Kian stood alone in the hallway for three seconds watching Alice leave. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, slowly wiping a smear of red lipstick off the corner of his mouth.
His face went totally cold again. The quick heat was gone, leaving nothing behind but a flat, empty wall. He tossed the cloth into a small metal bin and walked back out.
Over by Table One, Alice made a point to walk right past Isabella’s chair.
She stopped next to the raised table, stepping close to where Isabella sat listening to the music.
"Mrs. Carter," Alice said, her voice dropping real sweet and polite.
Isabella turned her head toward the sound, her face smoothing out. "...Alice?"
"Happy Anniversary" Alice said, stepping closer with a soft laugh. "I almost didn’t spot you from across the room. You look stunning tonight."
A cold prickle ran down Isabella’s spine, but she kept her hands folded in her lap. "Thank you, Alice. That’s very kind."
Kian slipped back into his chair, a smooth smile on his face as he looked between them. "I see you two found each other."
"I just wanted to say hi," Alice said, her eyes bright. She reached forward, her fingers gently tucking a loose piece of Isabella’s hair behind her ear. "I was just telling her how good it is to see her out."
To anyone watching from the surrounding tables, it looked like a sweet moment between two girls who’d grown up in the same house.
Inside, Isabella’s blood went cold as ice.
She knew that voice. She remembered the sound of Alice’s sharp, mean laugh from her past life. The touch of Alice’s fingers on her ear felt like a snake crawling on her skin.
"You’ve gotten so thin, Isabella," Alice said, fake concern thick in her voice as she rested a hand on her shoulder. "Are you sure you’re eating enough?"
"I’m taking good care of her," Kian said smoothly, reaching across the table to cover Isabella’s hand with his own.
Alice gave a little laugh. "I can see that. Honestly, I’m almost jealous, Kian. You treat her like a princess."
A few women at the next table smiled, nodding to each other.
Alice leaned down, wrapping her arms around Isabella’s shoulders in a fast, light hug. "I’m really happy for you, Bella. I know your dad would be so glad knowing you’re looked after."
Isabella held her breath, jaw clamped tight as she took the hug, smelling Alice’s heavy perfume, and right under it, the faint smell of Kian’s cologne stuck to Alice’s dress.
"Thank you, Alice," Isabella forced out, her voice barely coming through.
Alice pulled back, her eyes dropping for a second to the pale skin of Isabella’s neck, seeing the thick layer of makeup smoothing out her collarbone. A tiny beat of suspicion flickered in her head, but she brushed it off with a smile.
"I’ll let you two get back to your food," Alice said, stepping back. "Don’t keep her out too late, Kian."
She turned and walked back toward Table Twelve, head up.
---
When the plates were cleared, the host stepped up to the microphone at the front, tapping his glass with a spoon. The room went quiet as the heavy velvet curtains pulled back to show a massive white and gold cake sitting on a cart.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the host announced, his voice echoing through the speakers. "Before we start the dancing tonight, we have one more thing to celebrate. Tonight, as Kingston Corporation marks fifty years, we also mark the birthday of the man leading the way—our president, Kian Carter!"
The room broke into loud applause.
Kian stood up, fixing his jacket. He reached down, taking Isabella’s hand to help her up beside him. They walked up the short steps to the middle of the stage, standing next to the massive cake under the bright yellow lights.
The host handed Kian the mic.
Kian looked out at the five hundred rich faces, his smile warm and easy.
"Thank you," Kian said into the mic. "Fifty years ago, this company was built on a simple idea of strength. Today, we’re stepping into something even bigger."
He paused, turning his dark eyes down to Isabella standing next to him in her pink dress.
"People always ask me what my greatest achievement has been since taking over," Kian said, his voice dropping down soft so it sounded personal to everyone in the room.
"It wasn’t continuing the legacy Lance Kingston started with. It wasn’t doubling our reach overseas." He reached out, taking Isabella’s hand and lifting it to his mouth.
"It was marrying my wife. Isabella is my whole life, and everything I do, I do for her."
A collective sigh went through the women in the front rows. Two old board members clapped hard, and photographers started snapping photos of them on stage.
Isabella stood totally still, her hand in his, her face stuck in a sweet, empty smile while her heart was screaming in her chest.
"Now," Kian said, turning back to the mic. "If you’ll raise a glass with me—"
He didn’t get to finish.
At the very back of the ballroom, the heavy double doors swung wide open.
The two tall guards just stepped back, bowing their heads as three men walked through. Silence filled the large space.
Like cold water spilling over the floor, the clapping died down table by table. People stopped talking mid-sentence. Executives lowered their glasses. An old senator sitting near the front aisle slowly set his fork down, eyes going wide.
Johan stepped in first, his broad shoulders filling out his suit, eyes scanning the room. Perez came right behind his shoulder.
And between them walked Aaron Kazarov.
He wore a dark suit under a long black coat draped over his shoulders.
Between his fingers, he held a thin, lit cigar, a trail of blue smoke rising into the air.
He walked leisurely, ignoring the guards scrambling out of his way.
The orchestra cut out, the violinists dropping their bows as the silence took over the whole room.
"Is that...?" an old guy whispered near the aisle.
"Kazarov," his friend breathed back, his face draining of color. "What’s he doing here?"
Kian froze on the stage. The mic stayed near his mouth, but his eyes narrowed into tight slits as he watched the broad figure walk straight down the middle aisle toward the stage.
Isabella felt the sudden, heavy drop in the air. She couldn’t see who had walked in, but she felt Kian’s hand tighten around hers until her fingers ached.
Her pulse shot through the roof.
Aaron stopped at the bottom of the steps, ten feet from where Kian and Isabella stood under the bright spotlights.
He took a slow drag of his cigar, blowing the smoke up toward the high ceiling. Then, his eyes slid past Kian’s face, landing right on Isabella’s pale, trembling frame in her pink dress.
A slow, mean smile spread across Aaron’s face in the bright light.
"Hope I’m not ruining the party," Aaron said, his low, raspy voice cutting through the dead quiet like a knife. "I’d hate to miss the president’s birthday."