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

The Sinclair Penthouse smelled like cedar, expensive linen, and finally, peace.

Aria kicked off her fuzzy slides the moment the elevator doors slid shut.

”We’re home,” she groaned, padding barefoot onto the plush rug, ”at last.”

Damien followed her, loosening his tie. He picked up her slides without a word, placing them neatly by the console table.

”We still have a list to finish,” he reminded her.

”Yes, yes, I know,” Aria muttered, heading for the bedroom. ”But I need a shower. I feel like I have hospital air stuck to my skin.”

”We can save time,” Damien suggested, catching up to her. His voice dropped to a low, persuasive rumble. ”Shower together. It’s more efficient.”

Aria looked back at him. He looked innocent, but his eyes were dark with intent.

”Efficient,” she deadpanned. ”Is that what we’re calling it? You just want to see me naked.”

”I always want to see you naked,” Damien admitted shamelessly, unbuttoning his shirt. ”But I also want to get this work done so we can sleep.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He pulled her into the bathroom.

The shower was, as predicted, not efficient.

The steam filled the massive glass enclosure instantly, turning the world soft and hazy. Damien stepped under the spray first, the water sluicing down the hard planes of his chest, tracking over the silver scars on his ribs and the definition of his abs.

Aria found herself staring. It was like walking into a live wet dream. He was magnificent, water dripping from his dark lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead.

He reached for the sponge and a bottle of body wash that smelled of bergamot. He lathered it up, his eyes locking on hers.

”Turn around,” he murmured.

Aria obeyed. She felt the warm, soapy sponge against her shoulders, scrubbing away the tension of the day. But then the sponge was gone, replaced by his large hands.

His soapy hands slid down her spine, his thumbs pressing into the knots in her lower back. He moved around her waist, his fingers splaying over her stomach, pulling her back until she was flush against him.

She could feel every inch of him—the hard wall of his chest, the rough hair on his legs, and the heavy, undeniable ridge of his erection pressing against her lower back.

”Damien,” she breathed, her head falling back against his shoulder.

He dropped a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the column of her neck. His hands slid up, cupping her soapy breasts, his thumbs flicking over her nipples until they peaked hard against his palms.

He spun her around.

He pressed her back against the wet tile. The water crashed around them, deafening and hot. He crowded into her space, his thigh sliding between hers, the friction of wet skin on wet skin sending a jolt of electricity through her.

He kissed her. It was deep, wet, and tasted of water and hunger. Aria wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his wet hair, pulling him closer. She lifted her leg, hooking it around his waist, opening herself to him completely.

Damien groaned into her mouth, his hands gripping her hips, lifting her slightly. He ground against her, the contact searing.

But just as Aria prepared to lose herself, Damien froze.

He pulled back, his chest heaving, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes were blown wide, black with lust, but there was a steel edge of discipline cutting through the haze.

”Focus,” he rasped, water dripping from his nose onto hers. ”If we start this, we aren’t finishing the list tonight.”

Aria blinked, dazed, her body still humming. ”You’re the one who started it!”

”And I’m the one stopping it,” he said, stealing one last, hard peck before stepping back and turning off the water. ”Come on. The sooner we find the leak, the sooner I can have you to myself properly.”

They dried off in the cool air of the bathroom. Aria sat at the vanity to do her skincare routine, watching Damien in the mirror. He simply towel-dried his face and looked... flawless.

”It’s annoying,” Aria muttered, aggressively applying serum.

”What is?”

”Your skin. You drink scotch, you smoke and you run a stressful empire, and your pores are invisible. How does such a perfect human being exist? It’s unfair.”

Damien smirked, wrapping a towel around his waist. ”It’s genetics. Don’t be jealous, Mrs. Sinclair. You get to look at it.”

He walked into the bedroom.

Aria finished up and followed him. She found him sitting up in bed, propped against the headboard, his laptop open on his lap.

He was wearing his reading glasses.

Aria paused in the doorway. There was something devastatingly hot about Damien Sinclair in glasses—it softened the ”Demon King” edge and replaced it with a hyper-intelligent, focused intensity that made her weak in the knees.

She grabbed her own laptop and sat at the vanity, not trusting herself to be in the bed next to him and actually work.

”Okay,” Damien said, his voice crisp. ”Delta List. We’re looking for connections between Sasha, Chloe, or Veronique and anyone in Lydia’s circle. Or anyone who might have wanted that ledger destroyed.”

”Sasha had a booking last Tuesday,” Aria said, scrolling through the file Kai had sent. ”Client listed as ’J. Smith’. Paid in cash.”

”Dead end,” Damien said, typing. ”Veronique was with a senator. He’s clean, just sleazy. What about Chloe?”

”Chloe...” Aria squinted at the screen. She looked up, catching Damien’s reflection in the mirror. He was frowning at his screen, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

She stared. He looked so serious. So competent.

Damien looked up, catching her eye in the reflection. He paused. His gaze softened, sweeping over her face, admiring the way the light hit her damp hair.

”Find something?” he asked.

”Just admiring the view,” Aria admitted, looking back at her screen, cheeks heating.

”Mutual,” Damien murmured.

They worked for another hour. The room was filled with the soft click of keys and the quiet hum of the city outside.

”Wait,” Damien said suddenly. ”Row 89. Chloe. Booked by a shell company three days ago. ’Azure Holdings’.”

Aria spun around in her chair. ”Azure? Like the fraud scheme Sterling was running?”

”Similar naming convention. But the payment origin tracks back to a bank in Paris.”

”Paris,” Aria repeated. ”Lydia.”

”It’s a lead,” Damien said. ”If Chloe met with someone from Lydia’s camp before the theft... she could be the one who got the job.”

He marked the entry. ”We’ll have Kai trace the company tomorrow.”

He set his laptop on the nightstand and took off his glasses. He rubbed his eyes.

”That’s enough,” he said. ”Come here.”

Aria didn’t argue. She closed her laptop. Her limbs felt heavy as she walked to the bed and crawled in.

”We found a lead,” she whispered, burrowing into the duvet.

”We did,” Damien said, sliding down to pull her into his arms. ”You did good. For a rookie detective.”

”I’m a natural,” Aria mumbled, her eyes already drooping.

Damien smiled. He tilted her chin up.

He kissed her. It was slow, deep, and promising. He tasted of mint and exhaustion. Aria kissed him back, her hand coming up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt.

But the warmth of the bed, the safety of his arms, and the sheer length of the day finally won.

Her hand went limp. Her breathing deepened.

Damien pulled back.

Aria was fast asleep, her lips slightly parted, completely out cold mid-kiss.

He stared at her for a moment, blinked, and then let out a soft, amused chuckle.

”Unbelievable,” he whispered.

He kissed her forehead gently, pulling the duvet up to her chin. He wrapped an arm around her.

”Goodnight, Aria.”