After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 143: My Skin is Glowing

Aria felt delightfully boneless. Her legs were shaky, her skin was burning, and her heart felt lighter than it had in two lifetimes. She pulled her black trousers and silk camisole back on, twisting her soaking wet hair up into a messy claw clip. Her face was scrubbed completely bare of makeup, but looking in the locker room mirror, she didn’t care.

She was glowing.

Damien looked even more compromised.

His suit jacket was slung casually over his shoulder. His tie was entirely MIA, and the top three buttons of his crisp white dress shirt were left undone, exposing the hard lines of his chest and a faint, unmistakable red mark right on his collarbone that Aria had put there.

"Ready?" Damien asked, his voice still a low, gravelly rasp as he waited by the doors.

"Ready," Aria smiled.

Because the private gym elevator was down for maintenance, they had to take the secondary lift up to the lower executive mezzanine, which meant walking directly through the main corporate floor to reach the C-Suite elevators.

The metal doors slid open.

The bustling, high-stress atmosphere of Sinclair Corporation immediately hit them. It was a sea of glass cubicles, rushing interns, and junior executives aggressively typing on laptops.

Damien didn’t step out and walk ten paces ahead of her like the cold, untouchable CEO he usually played. Instead, he stopped. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around hers. He shifted his grip, sliding his fingers between hers, interlocking them perfectly, palm to palm. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Aria looked up at him, her breath hitching at the casual, undeniable possessiveness of the gesture.

Damien didn’t say a word. He just gently tugged her forward, leading her out onto the floor.

The reaction was instantaneous.

It started with a dropped pen. Then, a phone ringing went unanswered. Within ten seconds, the entire corporate bullpen had ground to a complete, stunned halt.

Aria kept her chin tilted up, her Louboutins clicking rhythmically against the marble. She didn’t shrink under the weight of a hundred staring eyes. She leaned into it. She swung their interlocked hands slightly, a tiny, smug smile playing on her lips.

The whispers erupted behind them like a wave of suppressed hysteria, loud enough for Aria to catch snatches of the chaos.

"Oh my god, look at her hair. It’s literally soaking wet." "Did they just... in the executive gym?" "Look at his shirt! Mr. Sinclair never leaves his collar unbuttoned. Ever." "Is that a hickey on his neck? I’m going to pass out."

They walked past the accounting department. The woman who had snidely whispered that Aria was ’not even all that’ earlier, was standing by the water cooler.

She stared at their interlocked hands, then up at Damien’s thoroughly ravished, wildly protective expression.

Her jaw dropped. The tablet in her hands slipped right through her fingers, hitting the floor with a loud, cracking clack.

Aria didn’t even turn her head.

They finally reached the executive elevator. The doors closed, shutting out the stunned masses.

As soon as they stepped into Damien’s private office, the adrenaline of their public display began to fade.

Damien locked the glass doors. He walked over to his massive mahogany desk and picked up his phone, tapping the screen to wake it up.

Aria walked over to the mini-bar, pouring two glasses of sparkling water. "Did Kai text?"

"He did," Damien said, his voice tightening.

Aria turned around, handing him a glass. "And? Azure Holdings? Did he trace the Paris bank account?"

Damien took the glass, his jaw clenching. "He traced it. It’s a bust. Azure Holdings is a legitimate overseas investment firm out of Geneva. The CEO is a seventy-year-old Swiss man who has never been to France and has zero ties to Lydia or the Vipers. Chloe was just servicing a very boring, very rich banker."

Aria slumped into the guest chair across from the desk, groaning. "You have got to be kidding me. A dead end?"

"A dead end," Damien confirmed, tossing the phone onto the desk. "Which means the thief is probably and hopefully still hiding somewhere in the remaining three thousand rows of that damn Delta list."

The sheer, overwhelming volume of the remaining data crashed down on them. The frustration was a physical weight.

Damien pinched the bridge of his nose, a sharp hiss escaping his teeth. The sudden spike in stress, triggered the migraine instantly. It hit him like a spike driven through his left temple.

He squeezed his eyes shut, blindly reaching across the desk for the orange bottle of Vanax.

He popped the cap off and tipped the bottle toward his palm.

Smack.

Aria’s hand shot out, slapping the plastic bottle right out of his grip. The pills scattered across the mahogany wood.

Damien’s eyes snapped open. "What are you doing?"

"Pills are a crutch," Aria said firmly, stepping around the desk. She grabbed his shoulders and forcefully pushed him down into his heavy leather CEO chair. "Sit."

"Aria, my head is splitting open—"

"I know," she interrupted softly, moving to stand directly behind his chair. "But you took three of those this afternoon. You’re going to wreck your liver. Let me help."

She gently pushed his head forward. Her thumbs found the hollows at the base of his skull—the Fengchi acupressure points.

"Close your eyes," she instructed.

Damien sighed, leaning back, and let his eyes drift shut.

Aria applied firm, circular pressure. She didn’t use needles this time, just the steady, practiced strength of her hands, tracing the meridians down his neck and across the tense line of his shoulders. She dug into the tightly coiled muscles, forcing the stagnant energy to release.

For a minute, the only sound in the office was Damien’s ragged breathing slowly evening out into a deep, steady rhythm.

"Better?" Aria whispered, her fingers massaging his scalp.

"Much," Damien murmured, his voice heavy with relaxation. The sharp, blinding edge of the pain had melted into a dull, manageable ache. He reached up, capturing one of her hands and pulling it down to kiss her knuckles.

"Good," Aria smiled, resting her chin on the top of his head. "So, what’s the plan? We order more greasy takeout and stare at Kai’s spreadsheet until our eyes bleed?"

Damien opened his eyes. He gently pulled her around the chair, settling her onto his lap.

"No," Damien decided, wrapping his arms around her waist. "We’re leaving. We are going home."

"And food?" Aria asked, tracing the line of his jaw. "Because I burned a lot of calories down in sub-level three. I require sustenance."

"I’ll cook," Damien said casually.

Aria’s hand froze. She stared at him, her emerald eyes wide with genuine, unadulterated disbelief.

"You?" Aria asked, blinking rapidly. "Cook? Like... with fire and pans?"

"Yes, Aria. With fire and pans."

"Damien, you didn’t know how to open a ketchup packet," she pointed out, trying not to laugh. "I assumed you thought a stove was just a very expensive, modern art installation in the kitchen."

Damien narrowed his eyes at her, though a smirk played on his lips. "I am perfectly capable of cooking. I lived alone in Europe for five years before I took over the company. I know how to use a kitchen."

Aria looked highly skeptical. "Do I need to sign a liability waiver before eating it? Does Ken have an ambulance on standby?"

"Keep making jokes, Mrs. Sinclair," Damien warned, standing up and lifting her effortlessly into his arms. "And I’ll feed you something else entirely."

Aria shrieked with laughter as he carried her toward the door.

"Okay, okay! Chef Damien!"