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

Damien’s hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against his chest as his mouth devoured hers. She tangled her fingers into the soft, silver hair at the nape of his neck, parting her lips to let him deepen the kiss.

Damien let out a low, guttural groan, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin of her waist through the silk pajamas.

But right as Aria was entirely prepared to let him press her back into the pillows and ruin her, Damien suddenly froze.

He pulled away, his chest heaving as he rested his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, taking a ragged, shuddering breath to rein in his urges.

”As much as I would absolutely love to tie you to this bed right now,” Damien rasped. ”We need to dismiss our guest first.”

Aria blinked, her brain still entirely fogged by lust.

”Guest?” she repeated, looking around the empty ICU room. ”What guest?”

Damien didn’t answer her. He just turned his head slightly toward the far corner of the room and spoke in a flat, authoritative monotone.

”Clear out.”

For a split second, nothing happened.

And then, the door to the tall, metal medical supply cabinet in the corner of the room clicked.

The door swung open.

Aria watched in absolute, paralyzed horror as a massive, six-foot-four private military contractor, fully strapped in black Kevlar and carrying a matte-black tactical rifle, stepped out from behind a stack of sterile bedpans.

He gave Damien a crisp, professional nod.

”Sir. Ma’am,” the operative rumbled politely.

He marched across the floor and exited through the glass doors without looking back.

The door clicked shut.

Aria sat frozen on the bed. The silence in the room was deafening.

Slowly, the horrific realization of what had just transpired washed over her. The blood rushed to her face so fast she actually felt dizzy.

”Damien,” Aria whispered, her voice cracking as she slowly brought both hands up to cover her burning face. ”There was a man in the closet.”

”Yes,” Damien said casually, reaching past her to grab a napkin from the bedside table.

”A man was in the closet!” Aria shrieked, her voice muffled behind her hands. ”He was in there the whole time! He heard everything!”

Damien let out a rich, unapologetic laugh. ”He’s bound by a very strict, iron-clad non-disclosure agreement, Aria. As far as he’s concerned, he’s deaf and blind to anything that isn’t an active threat.”

”He is not deaf!” Aria wailed, dropping onto the mattress and curling into a ball of pure mortification. ”He has ears, Damien! I have to fake my own death. I have to move to Switzerland and change my name. I can never look your security team in the eye again!”

”You’re being dramatic,” Damien smirked.

”Eat your chicken,” he murmured, picking up a golden, crispy breast from the bucket and holding it out to her.

Aria uncurled from her ball of shame. She glared at him, snatched the chicken from his hand, and took an aggressive bite.

”Having a heavily armed mercenary hiding in the linens is overkill,” Aria complained with her mouth full. ”This is the VIP wing of the most exclusive hospital in the city. There are literal guards at the elevators, Damien. It’s a fortress.”

Damien leaned back against the pillows, crossing one ankle over his knee. His golden eyes darkened slightly, the playful amusement fading into something cold and analytical.

”A hospital is never a fortress,” Damien corrected smoothly. ”It’s a building with multiple public access points. An assassin could pose as a phlebotomist to bypass the hallway guards. They could drop through the HVAC ventilation shafts. Or they could trigger a localized EMP to kill the backup generators and breach the window locks during the blackout.”

Aria stopped chewing. She stared at him.

”Do you want me to keep going?” Damien asked, tilting his head. ”Because I have three other scenarios mapped out.”

”No,” Aria sighed.

”I thought so.”

They settled into a comfortable silence. Aria sat cross-legged on the hospital bed, gnawing on a drumstick, while Damien ate a KFC biscuit.

”So,” Aria asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin. ”Since I was busy doing basically nothing today, what did you do?”

”Work,” Damien replied simply.

”Details, Mr. Sinclair,” she prodded, bumping her knee against his thigh. ”What kind of work?”

Damien let out a small sigh, giving in.

”We finalized the hostile takeover of Vanguard Logistics,” Damien explained, his voice dropping into that smooth, hypnotic cadence he used in boardrooms. ”Their CEO thought he could stall the merger by hiding behind a poison pill defense strategy, so Julian and I spent the afternoon liquidating his shell companies and legally cornering his board of directors until they forced him to resign.”

Aria didn’t understand ninety percent of the financial jargon coming out of his mouth. ”Poison pill defense” sounded like something out of a spy movie.

But she didn’t care to understand. She just listened to the sound of his voice.

She watched the way his lips moved as he spoke. She watched the sharp, aristocratic cut of his jawline, the way his golden eyes flashed with ruthless intelligence when he described destroying a rival CEO’s career.

He was gorgeous. He was absolutely, undeniably insane, but he was gorgeous.

In her past life, Damien Sinclair had been a terrifying entity. A headline. Well, he still was. A man she would have crossed the street to avoid looking at directly.

And now, she was married to him.

Aria broke her gaze away from his lips and reached across the bed, aiming for the stack of paper napkins resting near his hip.

She didn’t make it.

Damien caught her wrist mid-air.

Aria froze, her breath hitching in her throat.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t break eye contact.

He slowly pulled her hand toward his face.

Aria’s heart executed a violent, frantic leap against her ribs. The air in the room suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter.

Damien parted his lips. He slipped her index finger into his mouth.

Aria let out a sharp, involuntary gasp.

His mouth was incredibly hot. He wrapped his lips around her finger, his tongue swirling with a slow, deliberate, agonizingly wet pressure that sent a shockwave of electricity straight down her spine and pooling directly in her core.

He pulled her finger slowly out of his mouth.