After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 108: Return Policy: Denied

The elevator ride down from the Velvet Room was silent, save for the rhythmic squeak-squeak of Ken shifting his weight in the vinyl trousers and the soft hum of the ventilation system.

They piled back into the blacked-out Escalade. The adrenaline of the heist was fading, replaced by the sticky reality of body oil and regret.

Kai broke the silence, staring at his phone screen as the driver pulled out into traffic, heading back toward Julian’s apartment complex.

"We’re good," Kai announced, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. "The uplink is stable. It’s a massive data dump, so it’s going to take twenty-four hours to parse the encryptions. I’ll have the client cross-reference list ready by tomorrow night."

He looked at Julian, who was picking a rhinestone off his cheek with tragic dignity.

"We’ll meet at your place, Jules. 8:00 PM."

"Absolutely not," Julian snapped. "Do you know how hard it is to get glitter out of Italian marble? And you ate all my yogurt. My housekeeper is going to charge me a hazard fee just for walking through the door."

"You bill by the hour, Julian," Kai scoffed. "Stop being so stingy. You’re rich. Buy new yogurt. Buy a new house if the glitter bothers you that much."

"It’s the principle," Julian muttered, crossing his arms over his mesh tank top. "And the oil. There is oil on my throw pillows. I don’t even want to know whose it is."

"It’s decided," Kai said, ignoring him. "8:00 PM. Don’t be late."

The Escalade pulled into the private underground garage of Julian’s building. The car stopped.

"Finally," Julian groaned, opening the door. "I need a drink, a priest, and a shower, in that order."

They all climbed out. The cool concrete air felt like freedom.

"I’m heading to The Void," Kai announced, adjusting his leopard print crop top in the reflection of his sports car. "I look too good to waste this outfit on a Tuesday night."

He grabbed Ken’s arm.

"You’re coming with me."

Ken’s eyes widened in horror. "I absolutely am not. I have work."

He looked at Damien pleadingly. "Sir. The merger documents for the Tokyo deal need review."

Damien, who was leaning against the Escalade, the leather harness creaking as he crossed his arms, didn’t even blink.

"The Tokyo deal is signed, Ken," Damien said calmly. "You have the night off."

Ken looked like he had just been sentenced to death. "Sir, please. Don’t make me go with him."

"Have fun," Damien said, unlocking his own car—a sleek Aston Martin he had left there earlier.

Kai cheered, dragging a despairing Ken toward his convertible. "Come on, Naughty Cop! Let’s go ruin your reputation!"

Aria stood by the passenger door of Damien’s car, watching them bicker. She looked at Julian, who was miserably trying to cover his chest with his arms as he walked toward the elevator. She looked at Kai, vibrating with chaotic energy. She looked at Ken, loyal to a fault even in vinyl.

And she looked at Damien. Her husband. Standing there in leather pants and a harness, looking ridiculous and terrifying and perfect, all because she asked him to.

In her past life, Aria had died alone in a cold room. Her only friends other than Zoe had been a ghost in her head and a grandmother she still thought about every day. She had never had a team. She had never had people who would humiliate themselves just to help her win.

A lump formed in her throat. Her eyes started to sting.

"Hey," she said softly.

The men stopped. They turned to look at her.

"Thank you," Aria whispered. "You guys... you really didn’t have to do this. But you did."

She looked at Julian. "Even you, Julian. Thank you."

Julian softened, sighing. "You’re welcome, Aria. Just... never make me wear glitter again."

"No promises," she choked out a wet laugh.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Panic.

The three of the most powerful men in the city and Ken froze. Julian took a step back, looking terrified. Kai stopped dragging Ken.

"Whoa," Kai said, his hands hovering in the air. "Wait. Are you crying? Why is she crying? Damien, she’s crying!"

"Are you sad?" Ken asked.

"I’m not sad," Aria sobbed, wiping her eyes, but the tears kept coming. "I’m just... I’m just really happy. You guys are the best."

"You’re Mrs. Damien Sinclair," Kai said, his voice unusually soft. He walked over, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder with a glittery hand. "You’re family, Ari. Of course we’d help you."

"Family," Aria repeated, the word hitting her hard.

Damien stepped in. He couldn’t handle her tears either—they made him want to burn the world down to fix whatever caused them.

"Okay," Damien said, opening the car door. "Stop crying. Get in."

He practically bundled her into the passenger seat, buckling her in as if she were made of glass.

Damien rounded the hood and slid into the driver’s seat. The leather of his pants squeaked against the leather of the seat—a sound that would have been funny if the atmosphere wasn’t so thick.

He started the engine. He didn’t drive immediately. He turned to her, reaching out to wipe a tear from her jaw with his thumb.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low.

Aria nodded, sniffing. "I’m fine. I just... I’m just really happy right now."

She looked at him, her eyes shining.

"You wore a harness for me, Damien. You let a strange, weird pimp ogle you. You did all of that."

"I’d do it every day," Damien said, his golden eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that burned. "I’d wear a clown suit if it got you what you wanted. I’d burn this city to ash if it made you smile. You know that."

Aria let out a shaky breath. "How did I get so lucky?"

"I’m the lucky one," Damien corrected. He leaned over, kissing her softy, tasting the salt of her tears. "Now stop crying. You’re going to ruin your Madam makeup."

Aria laughed, the heaviness in her chest lifting.

He put the car in gear and drove out of the garage, the city lights blurring past them.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the underground parking structure of the Sinclair Tower.

Damien killed the engine. The silence of the car was intimate, filled with the scent of his body oil and her perfume.

He turned to her. He didn’t reach for the door handle.

He leaned back in his seat, spreading his legs slightly, the leather straining. He looked at her with a heavy, lidded gaze that was no longer protective. It was hungry.

"We’re home," he murmured.

He ran a hand down the front of his harness, his fingers trailing over his bare chest.

"So, Madam V," he drawled, his voice dropping to a seductive, transactional purr that made Aria’s breath hitch. "The consultation is over. But the night is young."

He tilted his head, his eyes flashing.

"Do you still want to purchase my services?"

Aria bit her bottom lip, her eyes dragging over his body—the leather, the skin, the sheer power of him.

"Definitely," she whispered breathlessly.