After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 52: Turbulence at 30,000 Feet*

The privacy partition of the Gulfstream G650 slid shut with a soft, mechanical hiss, sealing the rear cabin off from the cockpit and the galley.

The sudden silence was heavy. The only sound was the low, steady hum of the engines and the frantic beating of Aria’s heart.

Damien unbuckled his seatbelt. The click echoed in the small space.

"Come here," he said.

It wasn’t a request. He rotated his leather captain’s chair to face hers, spreading his legs slightly.

Aria hesitated. "Damien, the flight attendants... they’re right on the other side of that wall."

"The wall is soundproof," Damien assured her, his eyes darkening as they swept over her ’survival chic’ outfit. "And if it isn’t... they are paid very well to be deaf."

He reached out, grabbing the strap of her tactical backpack and pulling. Aria tumbled forward, landing squarely in his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist instantly, locking her in place.

"You’re going to be on an island for a week," Damien murmured, his nose grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. "Surrounded by cameras. Surrounded by my idiot nephew. I won’t be able to touch you."

He bit down gently on her pulse point.

"I need to make sure you don’t forget who owns you while you’re playing in the dirt."

Aria shivered. The vibration of the plane seemed to travel through him and into her. "I have a good memory," she whispered.

"Let’s reinforce it."

He kissed her. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting the coffee she’d had earlier, demanding a response.

Aria melted. She always melted. For all her "Scarlet Queen" bravado, she was still new to this—to the overwhelming heat of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his silver hair.

His hands didn’t stay idle. They roamed over her body, frustrated by the layers of tactical gear.

"Too many zippers," he growled against her lips.

He found the hem of her tank top and shoved it up. His warm, calloused palms hit her bare skin, and Aria gasped, arching her back.

"Damien," she breathed, pulling back to look at him. "We can’t... not here. The seat is too small."

"We fit perfectly," he corrected.

He shifted her, lifting her hips so she was straddling him, facing him. Her combat boots rested on the edge of the leather seat.

"I want to touch you," he whispered.

He didn’t wait. He reached between them, his hand finding the button of her cargo pants.

Aria gripped his shoulders. "Wait—what if we hit turbulence?"

"Then hold on tight," Damien smirked.

He popped the button and slid the zipper down. The sound was obscenely loud in the quiet cabin. He slid his hand inside her pants, pushing past the fabric of her panties to cup her directly.

Aria choked on a gasp, burying her face in his neck to stifle the sound.

"So wet," Damien rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction as he felt the slick heat coating his fingers. "You’re soaking through everything."

He found the swollen nub of her clitoris, slick with her own desire, and began to rub it in slow, maddening circles.

"Damien..." Aria whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily against his hand.

He increased the speed, his thumb dragging over the sensitive bundle of nerves, using the natural lubrication to glide effortlessly.

He teased her, alternating between light, feather-soft flicks that made her squirm and hard, grinding pressure that made her see stars. The friction was relentless.

"You’re... terrible," Aria gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He leaned back, watching her come undone. He loved seeing the sharp, calculating glint in her emerald eyes dissolve into a hazy, drugged pleasure.

"Say my name," he ordered, increasing the pressure, his thumb moving faster.

"Damien..."

"Again."

"Damien!"

He brought her to the edge, held her there until she was sobbing his name, and then pushed her over.

Aria shattered. She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, her body convulsing in his arms as the orgasm ripped through her. Her inner walls clenched around emptiness, throbbing in time with his strokes.

Damien held her through it, not stopping until the last tremor faded, kissing her temple, her cheek, her jaw.

When she finally went limp against him, breathing raggedly, he smoothed her hair back.

"Good girl," he whispered.

He adjusted her clothes, buttoning her pants with the same care he used to sign billion-dollar contracts, though his hand lingered for a moment on her stomach.

"Now," he said, checking his watch. "We land in twenty minutes. Fix your hair, Mrs. Sinclair. You have a jungle to conquer."

The tropical heat hit them the moment the jet doors opened, but Aria didn’t feel it. She was still burning from the inside out.

She stepped onto the tarmac, her hair slightly mussed but her skin glowing with a flush that no highlighter could replicate.

Damien followed her down the stairs, putting his sunglasses on. He looked cool, collected, and completely unruffled. The only sign of what had happened in the cabin was the slight smirk playing on his lips when he looked at her.

Across the tarmac, a smaller, rattling commercial prop plane was taxiing in. It looked like a toy next to Damien’s Gulfstream.

The door opened, and a miserable figure stumbled out.

It was Lucas.

He looked green. He was clutching a paper bag to his chest. His hair was a disaster, and his "survival outfit"—designer khaki shorts and a polo—was wrinkled.

"Turbulence," Lucas groaned, spotting Damien. He walked over, looking like he wanted to die. "Uncle! Why did we have to take the prop plane? We hit an air pocket over the ocean. I threw up three times. Bella is still in the bathroom crying."

Damien adjusted his cuffs, looking at his nephew with mild distaste. "The budget for the contestants is fixed, Lucas. Economy class builds character."

"I have enough character!" Lucas whined.

A blur of energy burst out of the prop plane behind Lucas, nearly knocking him over.

"Land! Sweet land!"

Leo, the young actor playing the Prince, hopped onto the tarmac. He was wearing a backpack shaped like a cartoon shark and looked entirely unbothered by the flight.

"Sister Aria!" Leo shouted, spotting her. He bounded over like a golden retriever. "Did you see the ocean? It was so blue! I saw a dolphin! Or maybe it was a shark. It was definitely a fish!"

Aria smiled at Leo—a genuine, soft smile that she reserved for the few people she actually tolerated.

"I saw it, Leo," she said kindly. "Did you bring your gear?"

"Yes! I have bug spray and gummies!" Leo patted his shark bag.

Lucas scowled at the interaction. He looked at Aria, expecting sympathy for his motion sickness. Instead, she was looking at him with the same expression one would use to view roadkill.

"We had a very smooth flight," Aria said to Damien, her voice dripping with sugar, deliberately ignoring Lucas.

"Smooth," Damien agreed, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. "Though there was a little... friction... near the end."

Aria turned a violent shade of scarlet. She choked, mortified, and elbowed him sharply in the ribs to shut him up.

Lucas blinked, looking between them, sensing he was missing something but too nauseous to figure it out. "Are we going to the hotel now? I need a shower."

"Hotel?" Aria scoffed, trying to regain her composure. She pointed to a massive production helicopter waiting at the far end of the runway, blades spinning.

"This is Survival Star, Lucas," she said, adjusting her backpack straps. "The only hotel you’re getting is a tent. If you can figure out how to pitch it."

"Wait—what?" Lucas panicked. "Uncle, you said you were the judge! Doesn’t the judge stay at a resort?"

"I do," Damien said, gesturing to a sleek black SUV waiting to take him to the isolated production compound. "My wife and I have to part ways here."

He turned to Aria. He hated letting her go, even for a week.

"I’ll be watching," Damien murmured, low enough that only she could hear. "Don’t get hurt. And if you need anything... look up."

"I don’t need help to beat them," Aria smirked. "Go sit in your air conditioning, Mr. Executive Producer. I have a game to win."

She turned and walked toward the helicopter where Leo was already climbing in, waving enthusiastically.

"Try not to miss me too much, Husband," she called over her shoulder.