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

A few days had passed since the auction.

The drunk investor who had touched Aria’s butt woke up in a bed at Mount Sinai Hospital with a wired jaw, a shattered cheekbone, and a sudden, miraculous case of amnesia. When the NYPD detectives came to take his statement, the man stared blankly at the ceiling and explicitly declined to press charges against Damien Sinclair.

The felony assault case evaporated into thin air.

As for the business front, Vale Entertainment was officially under reconstruction. Aria had spent the last seventy-two hours sequestered in the upstairs guest room, conducting back-to-back Skype meetings with Mateo, Vittoria’s fiancé. Vittoria herself was absent from the calls.

And Damien?

Damien was strictly following Elias’ advice.

He gave Aria her space. But he made certain that she felt him in every corner of the penthouse.

Every morning, Aria woke up to find a fresh arrangement of her favorite white peonies resting on the kitchen island. Beside the vase, there was always a small, wrapped box of chocolates, and a single piece of cream cardstock bearing his elegant handwriting.

I love you. That was all the notes ever said.

Aria was melting. Her heart was a puddle of mush every time she saw his handwriting. She missed his warmth, she missed his voice, and she missed his touch.

But her pride was a stubborn beast. She wasn’t ready to wave the white flag of surrender just yet.

It was now October. A sunny Sunday morning.

Aria leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting for her toast to pop. She held a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, blowing softly on the surface.

She was wearing a paper-thin, white crop tee, and she had purposely decided not to wear a bra underneath. Her top was paired with very short lounge shorts and fluffy slippers.

She knew exactly what time Damien would come from his study to make his morning coffee. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She heard his footsteps approaching the kitchen archway.

Aria took a sip from her mug, mentally preparing to serve unbothered indifference.

Damien stepped into the kitchen.

Aria’s eyes widened. She inhaled sharply, accidentally swallowing the scalding hot cocoa.

The liquid fire scorched her tongue and slid burning down her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the desperate urge to cough, her face flushing as she forced the hot liquid down to maintain her cool facade.

It was a matter of who was really teasing who?

Damien was shirtless.

He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung, heather-grey sweatpants. He looked too unfair: broad shoulders, a defined eight-pack, and silver hair messy from sleep.

Damien didn’t say a word. He just walked right past her to reach the espresso machine.

Aria tried to act unbothered, staring fixedly at the toaster, but the wide, open-concept kitchen suddenly felt the size of a closet.

They moved around eachother doing their own things. Aria reached for the butter in the fridge just as Damien reached for the cream. Their arms brushed.

The silence between them was deafening, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Neither of them spoke, but they kept stealing hidden, heated glances at each other the second the other person looked away.

Whirrrrrr.

The soft hum of Diana’s wheelchair broke the quiet.

Diana rolled into the kitchen, looking extremely annoyed in her silk robe.

”Damien, I need a glass of orange juice,” Diana demanded, tapping her nails against her armrest. ”My nurse is useless today.”

Damien let out a low sigh, breaking the silent tension. He walked over to the refrigerator to grab the juice carton.

Aria took a breath to steady her racing heart. She turned around to face the upper cabinetry, intending to grab a highball glass for Diana’s drink.

She reached up. The glasses were on the second shelf.

Aria went up on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as high as she could. The motion caused the hem of her crop top to ride all the way up, exposing her waist and a sliver of underboob.

At the fridge, Damien pushed the door shut and turned around.

He stopped dead in his tracks. ℯ

His golden eyes locked onto the exposed expanse of her skin. He stared openly, shamelessly at her body, mesmerized by the curve of her waist stretching upward.

Aria’s fingertips brushed the rim of the glass and held onto it.

But her fluffy slippers lacked traction on the polished marble floor. Her foot slipped.

”Ah!” Aria gasped, losing her balance.

She stumbled backward.

But Damien had already stepped into her fall. Aria stumbled right into his solid, bare chest.

He stood like a brick wall, catching her weight entirely.

Her back was pressed flush against his torso.

Aria gasped softly. Pressed against him, she could feel the frantic rhythm of his racing heart pounding against her shoulder. And pressed against her lower hip was his... erection.

A hot flush exploded across Aria’s face.

She scrambled to steady her footing, gripping the glass tighter and quickly spinning around to face him, putting just an inch of space between their bodies.

Her chest was heaving, her face burning red as she looked up at him. Damien’s jaw was locked tight, his golden eyes dark with unspoken want.

Aria held the empty glass out to him.

Damien reached out to take it. As he grabbed the glass, his long fingers deliberately brushed against hers.

”Thank you,” Damien murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp.

Aria didn’t let go of the glass.

She stared up at him, and Damien stared right back down at her. Their fingers remained tangled around the cold glass, neither of them willing to pull away, consumed by the magnetic pull keeping them frozen in place.

”Oh, my god.”

Diana’s irritated voice cut through the air.

”You two are behaving like lovesick teenagers,” Diana snapped, glaring at them with increasing annoyance. ”Can I please just get the orange juice?!”

The bubble popped.

Aria quickly cleared her throat, breaking eye contact. She let go of the glass, looking away, and hurried back over to the toaster as her toast finally popped up.

Damien silently poured the orange juice into the glass. He walked over, handed the drink to his sister, and returned the carton to the fridge.

He grabbed his mug of black coffee from the counter and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Aria staring at her toast, her entire body still buzzing from the contact.