After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 125: The Gene Pool Needs Chlorine

The DJ at The Rusty Anchor was a brave man. He was currently trying to mix a Dua Lipa track with a sea shanty, and the result was a auditory hate crime that somehow slapped.

"Come on!" Zoe screamed over the bass, grabbing Aria’s wrist. "The floor is calling us!"

"The floor is sticky!" Aria shouted back, resisting. "It’s seventy percent beer and thirty percent regret!"

"That’s just texture!"

Zoe didn’t take no for an answer. She dragged Aria out of the booth, leaving a very drunk, very sullen Bella to guard the tequila bottle.

The dance floor was a writhing mass of production assistants, gaffers, and background actors letting off months of steam. The air smelled of sweat, cheap cologne, and freedom.

Zoe threw her hands up, her silver slip dress shimmering like a disco ball as she spun around. She was full-on performing, treating the sticky pub floor like the main stage at Coachella.

Aria tried to relax. She really did. She swayed her hips, letting the music drown out the thoughts of the ledger and Bella’s phone. She was twenty. She was supposed to be having fun.

A shadow fell over them.

A guy wearing a backwards baseball cap and a t-shirt that said ’Female Body Inspector’ slid into their orbit. He smelled of axe body spray and audacity.

"Hey ladies," he shouted, leaning in way too close to Aria. He reached out, his hand hovering over her waist. "You two look like trouble. Can I buy you a drink? Or maybe just you?"

Aria stepped back, smiling tightly. "No thanks. I’m good."

"Come on," the guy pressed, stepping closer, invading her space. "Don’t be like that. Just one drink."

Aria sighed. She stopped dancing. She held up her left hand, flashing the massive ruby ring Damien had given her. It caught the strobe light, flaring red like a stop sign.

"I’m married," she said, her voice pleasant but final. "To Damien Sinclair. You know, the guy who owns this city? And your life? And possibly your soul?"

The guy’s face went pale. The legend of the ’Demon King’ was strong in this city.

"Oh. Uh. Right. Cool. Have a nice night, ma’am."

He backed away so fast he tripped over his feet.

Zoe sighed, watching him go. "See? That’s what I want. I want a ’scare the bros away’ ring."

"You just need a scarier aura," Aria laughed.

Zoe pulled out her phone. "I’m calling for reinforcements. The talent pool here is shallow."

She hit ’Go Live’ on Instagram.

"Hey guys!" Zoe shouted at her phone, panning the camera around the sweaty bar. "We are live from the trenches. I am currently single and looking for a man who owns a suit and brushes his teeth. If you know anyone, DM me. Serious inquiries only. My standards are low, but not ’cargo shorts’ low."

She ended the stream and dragged Aria off the floor. "Abort. Abort mission. Let’s people watch."

They retreated to a high-top table near the bar, leaning against the sticky wood to catch their breath.

"Let’s play Smash or Pass," Aria suggested, sipping her soda water. "Him. The one by the dart board."

Zoe squinted. "Man bun? Pass. He looks like he wants to explain crypto to me."

"The guy with the vape?"

"Pass. If I wanted to date a fog machine, I’d go to a haunted house."

"The Sound Mixer?"

"Smash, but he’s married to a model. Why are the good ones always taken or wearing toe-shoes?"

Zoe slumped onto a stool, resting her chin in her hands.

"I’m tired of swiping, Aria. I’m tired of ’hey beautiful’ DMs from guys who hold fish in their profile pictures. I want... I want someone fun. Someone interesting."

She stood up, raising her arms to the ceiling as if summoning a deity.

"I want to manifest a chaotic billionaire!" she screamed over the music. "Someone with a dark past, a fast car, and absolutely no emotional regulation skills! Is that too much to ask, universe?!"

A few people turned to look. Aria laughed, hiding her face in her hands.

"Be careful what you wish for," Aria warned.

"I’m wishing for it! Bring me the toxic king! Bring me the hottest ruin!"

The back door of the pub—the one usually reserved for deliveries and illicit smoking breaks—swung open.

Aria furrowed her brows in confusion when she saw Zoe’s face change.

Zoe froze. Her mouth fell open. Her eyes widened, dilating instantly as she stared over Aria’s shoulder.

"Oh. My. God," Zoe whispered.

"What?" Aria asked, reaching for her drink. "See someone decent?"

"Beyond decent," Zoe breathed, her voice trembling with a mix of reverence and unholy thirst. "I see a demigod. And he’s gorgeous."

Aria went to turn around, but Zoe grabbed her arm, digging her nails in hard enough to leave marks.

"Don’t look," Zoe hissed. "He’ll see us looking. Oh god, Aria. He’s wearing real leather. And the shirt. It’s unbuttoned to his navel. I think my panties just evaporated. Gone. Disintegrated."

"Who is it?"

"It’s him," Zoe recited, staring like a woman possessed. "Kai Vane. The Information Broker. The King of the City Nightlife. Born November 18th. Scorpio sun, Gemini moon, Leo rising. Net worth: unlisted but rumored to be in the nine figures. Current relationship status: single, allegedly because he’s ’married to the chaos’."

The man stepped into the light. He scanned the room, looking bored, dangerous, and expensive in a leopard print shirt and leather jacket.

Zoe let out a whimpering sound, clutching her chest.

"I want him to ruin me," she whispered, the alcohol stripping away her inhibitions. "I want him to drag me into that alley and rearrange my internal organs. I want him to rail me until I forget my own social security number."

"Zoe!" Aria choked on her soda. "You’re drunk," she laughed.

Aria was always well aware of Zoe’s massive crush on Kai Vane, even in her past life. But she knew her best friend better than anyone. It takes one night for her to fall in love, as much as she acts like she just wants to have fun.

And Kai was a heartbreak wrapped in pretty packaging.

"I might be ovulating," Zoe added intensely.