After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

The silence of the Sinclair Penthouse was a stark contrast to the roar of the helicopter rotors, but the ringing in Aria’s ears hadn’t stopped.

She stepped out of the elevator and dropped her tactical pack onto the floor with a heavy thud. Her body ached in places she didn’t know existed. Her thighs burned, her hands throbbed beneath the bandages, and she smelled like engine exhaust, jungle rot, and sweat.

”Shower,” she announced, her voice cracking slightly. She didn’t look at him. She marched straight for the Master Suite, her boots heavy on the hardwood. ”If you try to stop me, I will bite you.”

Damien followed her, closing the bedroom door and locking it with a deliberate, heavy click that made Aria’s breath hitch.

”I have no intention of stopping you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. ”I intend to join you.”

He walked past her into the bathroom, turning the water on high. Steam began to fill the room instantly, softening the sharp edges of the marble and fogging the mirrors.

Aria stood by the sink, gripping the edge. She looked at her reflection. She looked wild. Her hair was still braided tight against her scalp, her face was devoid of makeup and streaked with dirt, and her eyes burned with a feverish intensity.

She reached for the button of her shirt. Her fingers, stiff and trembling, fumbled with the fabric.

”Stop,” Damien murmured, appearing behind her.

He brushed her hands away. He didn’t rush. He stood close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, but he didn’t touch her—not yet.

”You’re shaking,” he noted, his voice rough.

”I’m tired,” Aria lied. She wasn’t really tired. She was just king of...terrified.

”Then let me help you,” Damien told her, his hands moving to the top button of her shirt.

He undid the first button. His knuckles grazed the hollow of her throat, sending a shiver racing down her skin.

He worked his way down, his fingers brushing against the swell of her breasts as the fabric parted. He pushed the shirt off her shoulders, letting it slide down her arms to pool on the floor. She stood before him in her bra, the black fabric stark against her pale skin.

He knelt.

Aria gasped as his large, warm hands moved to her boots. He unlaced them with agonizing slowness, peeling off her socks, massaging the arch of her foot with his thumb. The sensation was so intense she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning.

He moved up to the button of her cargo pants. The metal snap popped loudly in the quiet bathroom. He slid the zipper down, the sound rasping against her nerves. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, pulling the heavy fabric down her legs. Aria stepped out of them, kicking them aside.

Now she was left in just her silk underwear.

Damien stood up slowly, his eyes never leaving her body. He reached behind her, finding the clasp of her bra. With a deft flick, it came loose. The straps fell away, and he tossed the garment aside. His gaze dropped to her bare chest, darkening with a hunger that made her knees weak.

”Beautiful,” he breathed, his voice rough.

He hooked his thumbs into the sides of her panties. ”Lift.”

Aria obeyed, lifting one leg and then the other as he stripped the final barrier away. She stood completely naked before him, vulnerable and exposed under the harsh bathroom lights, but Damien looked at her like she was a masterpiece he had been waiting a lifetime to unveil.

He didn’t touch her. He just looked, his gaze tracing every curve, every bruise from the jungle, every inch of skin he now claimed as her husband.

Damien stripped off his own clothes with efficient, jerky movements. When he was finally bare, the sight of him—scarred, powerful, and undeniably aroused—made Aria’s mouth go dry.

He led her into the massive walk-in shower. The hot water hit them, a physical balm against their battered skin.

Damien picked up a sponge and the strawberry body wash.

”Turn around,” he commanded softly.

Aria obeyed, resting her forehead against the wet tile. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She felt the sponge on her back. He washed the mud from her legs, the soot from her arms, the sweat from her back. He watched the water swirl brown and dirty at the drain, scrubbing until it ran crystal clear.

He washed her hair, his fingers digging into her scalp, releasing the tension of the tight braids. Aria groaned, her muscles finally beginning to uncoil under the heat and his hands.

She leaned back against him, her body slick with soap. She could feel him—hard and heavy against her lower back. The intimacy of it was overwhelming.

She turned in his arms, looking up at him through the steam.

”Damien,” she whispered.

His eyes were dark. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip.

”You’re clean,” he murmured.

Aria waited. She tilted her head up, inviting him. A part of her wanted him to take her right there, against the wet wall, just to stop her mind from spinning.

But Damien stopped. He looked at the dark circles under her eyes. He felt the way her legs were trembling from sheer exhaustion.

He let out a ragged sigh, resting his forehead against hers.

”Not tonight,” he rasped.

Aria blinked, a pang of disappointment piercing through her chest. ”Oh. I... I didn’t mean to imply...”

”Don’t look at me like that,” Damien growled, seeing the insecurity flash in her eyes. He grabbed her hips, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly how much he wanted her. ”I want you so bad my teeth ache. But you can barely stand up.”

He kissed her hard on the mouth.

”I’m not taking you when you’re half-asleep,” he said, turning off the water. ”When we do this, Aria, you’re going to be wide awake. And you’re going to scream my name until the neighbors call the police.”

He wrapped her in a fluffy towel before she could argue. He carried her out of the bathroom and deposited her onto the massive bed.

”Sleep,” he ordered, pulling the duvet up to her chin.

Aria curled into the pillows. She watched him walk around the bed, still damp, and slide in next to her. He pulled her back against his chest, locking her in place.

She felt a strange mix of frustration and warmth.

”Goodnight, Damien,” she whispered, her eyes heavy.

”Goodnight, Aria.”

The next morning, the sun was an intruder.

Aria woke up buried under the duvet, her body heavy but rested. The soreness had faded to a dull ache.

She turned over. The bed was empty.

”Damien?”

Aria padded out, wearing one of his shirts that hung to her knees. She found Damien standing at the kitchen island, staring at a tablet. He looked up, his eyes sweeping over her bare legs, darkening for a second before he returned to business mode.

”Morning, Mrs. Sinclair,” he said, handing her a coffee. ”How do you feel?”

”Like I slept for a century,” Aria admitted, taking the mug. She sat on a barstool, tucking her legs up.

Damien slid the tablet toward her.

”Your reward,” he said.

Aria frowned. ”I thought the shower was the reward.”

”That was mostly for me,” Damien confessed. ”This is for you.”

Aria looked at the screen. It wasn’t anything related to a certain French cartel as she had hoped.

It was a contract.

[Offer of Brand Ambassadorship: CELESTIA LUXURY JEWELRY][Face of the Campaign: Aria Vale]

”Celestia?” Aria gasped, nearly dropping her coffee. ”It’s the top jewelry house in Europe. They only hire royalty or Oscar winners.”

”They officially dropped Bella this morning,” Damien said calmly, taking a sip of his coffee. ”Something about her ’brand image’ not aligning with their values after she pushed a co-star into a sand pit.”

Aria looked at the contract. The fee was astronomical. It was enough to fund her own studio. It was enough to bury the Vale family financially without touching a cent of the Sinclair fortune.

”This is perfect,” she whispered, a slow, predatory smile spreading across her face.

Damien kissed her forehead.

”Go get dressed. We have a contract to sign. And I think you need a dress that says ’I won’.”