After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 117: Please, Don’t Block the Wife

The SUV pulled up to the curb outside Zoe’s apartment building.

Across the street, a black sedan was parked under a streetlight. The windows were tinted too dark to be legal, and the engine was idling silently.

"That car has been behind us since the hospital," Zoe noted, eyeing the sedan suspiciously. "Paparazzi?"

"Probably," Aria lied smoothly. It was the shadow team Damien had assigned—the invisible wall standing between Zoe and the Vipers—but Zoe didn’t need to know she was under 24/7 surveillance. It would only freak her out. "Just go inside. Lock the door. Call me if you see anything weird. Even if it’s just a pigeon looking at you funny."

"Aye aye, Captain," Zoe saluted. She hopped out, waving to the invisible occupants of the sedan before disappearing into her building.

Aria watched until she saw the lobby lights flick on. Then she slumped back against the leather seat.

"To Sinclair HQ," she told the driver.

The ride was short. The city was waking up for the night, neon lights blurring against the rain-streaked windows.

The car pulled into the private underground entrance of the Sinclair Headquarters building. Aria bypassed the main lobby chaos and took the executive elevator straight to the top floor—the C-Suite.

The doors slid open with a soft ping.

Usually, the reception desk was empty at this hour, or manned by Ken. But tonight, there was a new face.

A woman sat behind the sleek marble desk. She was young, pretty in a sharp, eager way, wearing a headset and a blouse that was unbuttoned just one button too low for corporate standards. She was typing furiously.

Aria stepped out of the elevator. Squish-squish went her slides on the polished floor.

The receptionist looked up. Her eyes scanned Aria from the messy bun to the fuzzy footwear. Her lip curled in immediate, instinctive disdain.

"Deliveries go to the basement," the receptionist said, her voice dripping with artificial politeness. "The service elevator is around the corner."

Aria didn’t stop walking. "I’m not a delivery."

"Excuse me, Miss?" The receptionist stood up, blocking the path to the double glass doors of the CEO’s office. "You can’t just walk back there. Mr. Sinclair is in a high-level meeting. He is not to be disturbed by... solicitations."

Aria stopped. She tilted her head.

"Solicitations?" Aria repeated, a small, dangerous smile playing on her lips. "Do I look like I’m selling cookies?"

"You look like you’re lost," the receptionist sneered, her eyes flicking to the security button under the desk. "Or like you’re looking for a handout. Mr. Sinclair doesn’t do charity cases. Please leave before I call security."

Aria laughed. It was a cold, bright sound.

"Honey," Aria said, stepping into the girl’s personal space. "I suggest you sit down, shut up, and update your LinkedIn profile. Because if you touch that security button, the only thing you’ll be guarding is a cardboard box with your stapler in it."

The receptionist blinked, her confidence wavering. "Who... who are you?"

"I’m the woman who’s going to fire you if you don’t move in three seconds."

"I am the Executive Night Assistant!" the girl argued, puffing up her chest. "I answer only to Mr. Sinclair!"

"And who do you think Mr. Sinclair answers to?" Aria asked.

Before the girl could respond, the double doors behind her clicked.

They swung open.

Damien stood there. He had discarded his jacket. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his tie was gone, and he looked exhausted.

But the moment he saw Aria, the exhaustion vanished. His eyes lit up, the gold irises burning with a sudden, intense relief.

"Mr. Sinclair!" The receptionist spun around, pointing an accusing finger at Aria. "I’m so sorry, sir! This... person... refused to leave. She was trying to force her way in! I was just about to call security to have the trash removed."

Damien didn’t even look at the receptionist. He walked right past her as if she were a potted plant.

He went straight to Aria.

"You’re here," he breathed.

He reached out, his large hands cupping her face, ignoring the receptionist’s gasp of horror.

"Damien," Aria smirked, resting her hands on his chest. "Your gatekeeper thinks I’m trash. You really need to vet your staff better."

"She’s new," Damien murmured, his thumb stroking her cheekbone, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of the stress she’d been under. "She’s temporary."

"Sir?" the receptionist squeaked, her face draining of color. "Do you... do you know her?"

Damien finally glanced at the woman. His expression was cold, bored, and utterly dismissive.

"Pack your things," he said calmly. "You’re done."

"B-But sir—"

"Get out," Damien ordered, turning his back on her.

He looked back at Aria, his gaze dropping to her fuzzy slides, then back up to her eyes with a look of pure adoration.

"Come in," he said, pulling her toward his office. "I’ve been waiting for you."

"Are you in a meeting?" Aria asked, letting him drag her. "She said you were busy."

"I was," Damien said, kicking the door shut behind them and locking it. The sound of the lock clicking was the sweetest sound Aria had heard all day.

He spun her around, pressing her back against the door, but he didn’t kiss her immediately. He just held her there, his forehead resting against hers, breathing her in.

"I saw the news," he murmured, his voice low. "An ’Anonymous Donor’ saved Raymond Vale."

Aria leaned into him. "Yes, it keeps him alive to testify."

"I knew it was you the second I read the headline," Damien said softly. "You’re ruthless."

"Is that a compliment?"

"It’s the highest praise I have."

He lifted his head, his eyes searching hers. "I haven’t seen you since breakfast. It feels like a lifetime."

"It’s been a long day," Aria admitted, her voice softening.

"Too long," Damien agreed.

He leaned down then, capturing her lips. It was slow. It was tender. His lips moved over hers with a reverence that made her knees weak. He tasted of mint and coffee and relief. One of his hands tangled in the messy hair at the nape of her neck, gently tilting her head back, while the other wrapped securely around her waist, pulling her flush against him so she could feel the steady, grounding thrum of his heart.

Aria sighed into his mouth, her hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. For the first time since she woke up in the estate, the tension in her body unspooled. She felt safe.

Damien pulled back just an inch, his eyes soft, his thumb tracing her lower lip.

"I missed you," he whispered.

Aria felt a furious blush rise in her cheeks. She ducked her head, smiling shyly against his shirt.

"I missed you too," she murmured.

Damien chuckled, the sound vibrating against her. He kissed the top of her head.

"Come sit," he said, leading her toward the massive leather couch in the corner of his office. "Are you hungry?"