Rekindling Desire, page 1
Sinclair Duet: Book Two
A workplace, billionaire, grumpy/sunshine, second-chance contemporary romantic suspense
ALEATHA ROMIG
New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author
COPYRIGHT AND LICENSE INFORMATION
REKINDLING DESIRE
Copyright @ 2023 Romig Works, LLC
2023 Edition
ISBN: 9781956414677
Editing: Lisa Aurello
Proofreading: Stacy Zitano Inman
Cover Art: RBA Designs/ Romantic Book Affairs
Formatting: Romig Works LLC
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2023 Edition License
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Sinclair Duet, book two
In the blink of an eye, the tables turned.
I’m Damien Sinclair, a man always in control.
I thrive on the knowledge that my word is the final one—gospel.
In the millisecond I hesitated… Gabriella Crystal stepped in. I’m damn glad she did, but I will forever be in her debt.
Ella holds in her hands not only my heart, but also my future, my company, and everything I hold dear. The love we once shared is palpable, a glowing ember in the dying ash. To save my world, that ember must grow, must ignite and burst into the flames of desire.
She can never know the power she holds.
It’s the only way to save all I live for.
Have you been Aleatha’d?
The Sinclair Duet is a scorching hot, second-chance romance filled with the suspense and intrigue you’ve come to expect from New York Times bestselling author Aleatha Romig.
*REKINDLING DESIRE is book two, the conclusion of the Sinclair Duet.
The end of REMEMBERING PASSION
Gabriella
As Michael drove us down the winding driveway, Damien called Allen. Thankfully, he and Angie had stayed in Ashland. The pilot said he could have the plane ready in under an hour. Our first stop was our hotel.
“Don’t take time to change,” Damien said. “We can change on the plane.”
I heard more than his words. It was as if my hearing was in tune with his soul. From what he’d shared in the past, Damien and his father had a strained history. Despite that fact, each phrase he uttered was laced with worry. Outside my room, I reached for his hand. “I’ll hurry.”
He looked at where we were touching and back to my face, his expression solemn. “I don’t anticipate being great company. You might reconsider the stop in Indy.”
My lips curled into a smile as I leaned into his chest. “You can’t scare me away after spending the last week trying to get me back.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Thank you.”
Once the plane was in the air, we both changed from our formal wear into more casual clothes. This time we were both wearing blue jeans. Damien spent most of the flight between calls with his sister and calls with Stephen Elliott, an attorney I recalled from Sinclair.
With my legs curled beneath me in the seat, I sat watching the man I’d tried to forget, seeing him in a way that contrasted the reasons I’d left him. While I’d worked for him, I’d witnessed his anger. It wasn’t directed at me, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t heard his curses or seen the way his face could redden.
During the duration of the flight, there were bursts of cursing, yet his deep baritone voice stayed resolved, as if he was preparing himself for the worst.
I thought about Damien’s offer or his proposal. It wasn’t exactly the way a girl dreamed it would be. We weren’t under the canopy of stars or in still water. He didn’t offer me a diamond ring. Although, according to him, that had been the plan.
“We’re about to land,” Angie said. “There’s a car waiting to take you to the hospital.”
“I’m going to get my purse,” I said, standing and walking to the bedroom in the aft of the plane. When I turned, Angie was behind me. “I’ll hurry.”
“I wanted to thank you, Ms. Crystal. I don’t try to eavesdrop, but I know Mr. Sinclair is worried about his father and about the company. I’m so glad you’re with him.”
I swallowed. “Me too, Angie.”
The memory of Damien saying the flight crew had witnessed more verbal disagreements came back. “Did you meet Amber?”
“Ms. Wilmott,” she said with a serious expression. “Yes.”
“I know you can’t tell me anything…”
Her smile returned. “I can say we’re very happy to have you back. Take care of him.”
Take care of Damien Sinclair.
“I will.”
Damien was still on the phone as we exited the aircraft and entered the back seat of the waiting car. The cold breezes from up north were replaced with Florida’s humid air. The spring flowers were swapped with palm trees.
“He finally showed up,” Damien said into the phone. He looked at me and mouthed ‘Darius.’
I inhaled, wondering what the confrontation would be. It was hard to tell with Darius.
When Damien finally tucked the phone into the pocket of his jeans, he reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Dad’s still in surgery.”
I nodded.
“I could do this alone.”
“You could. You don’t have to.”
Palm trees lined the streets and tall lamps illuminated the way. My skin grew tight as the car came to a stop in front of the hospital. Once out of the car, Damien placed his hand in the small of my back and led me through the large glass doors. Without a word, he guided me through the hallways, up an elevator, and through more corridors.
Dani, Damien’s sister, was the first person I recognized as we approached a private small surgical waiting room. She rushed from her chair and wrapped Damien in a hug.
“No word,” she said, her words muffled against his shirt.
With his lips pressed into a straight line, Damien embraced his sister. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he nodded.
When Dani backed away, she turned to me. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you.”
The two of us embraced. Truth be told, she and I had always gotten along. We’d even met a few times for lunch over the last two years. It was nice to see her out in the open.
I retook Damien’s hand. “I’m glad I’m able to be.”
Next stop was Marsha Sinclair, Damien’s mother. When her bloodshot eyes focused on Damien, she too stood and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank God you’re here.” She turned to me. “Gabriella.”
“Marsha, I’m so sorry about Derek.”
“Are you two…?”
Before we could respond, the sound of voices caused us to turn.
“Damien,” Darius said, calling from the doorway. A tall woman with blond hair was at his side. “We need to talk.”
Damien’s hand stiffened in my grasp. “I’m glad you’re here for Dad. Nothing else matters right now.” He stood taller and addressed the woman, “Amber.”
Amber.
I tried not to react.
Darius was a little taller than Damien. While they were similar in appearance, Darius’s hair was peppered with gray. He held tight to Amber’s hand. “I have news to ease Dad’s stress.”
Damien inhaled.
Amber stared at Damien’s hand holding mine and then shifted her focus up to our eyes. “You two are back together?”
She obviously had greater knowledge of me than I had of her.
Before either of us could answer, Amber lifted her left hand. A diamond-encrusted band glistened under the lights. “Congratulate us. Darius and I are married.”
Damien and I turned toward Marsha who nodded.
“Do you know what that means, brother?” Darius asked.
“It means you took the blackmail,” Damien replied. “I’m still CEO. That’s not changing. Dad will be okay.”
“The addendum,” Amber said.
I took a step forward and offered Amber my hand. “We haven’t formally met. I’m Gabriella, Damien’s fiancée.”
Gabriella
The halls of the hospital were quiet in the middle of the night—more accurately, in the early morning hours of Sunday. Within the small chapel, that eerie silence was but another element increasing my apprehension.
I’d made a proclamation upon our arrival to the hospital. The circumstances hadn’t changed. Derek Sinclair was still in surgery. What was changing felt like an out-of-control locomotive.
Within my ears, I heard the buzzing of the warning signal.
Caution.
Caution.
It rang out, warning that we were moving too quickly.
I peered around, curious if others heard the alarm.
“…being as today is Sunday, we will have the license issued first thing Monday morning,” Pastor Becky Abrams said. “In many cases, the clerk’s office will postdate the license to correspond to your ceremony. Hospital weddings are a special entity—a class by themselves. Assuming the clerk’s office will accommodate your wishes, your marriage will be legal as of today.”
Our marriage.
“Today?” My once-strong voice was barely a whisper.
My attention went to Damien’s stare, assessing the churning waters of his blue orbs. There were too many emotions swirling within the murky sea to pin down one or even two. While he had the greater burden of concern regarding his father, I wasn’t a stranger to the sense of uncertainty. Within me, a conflict raged, prickling my skin and speeding my circulation with each passing minute. Contrasting emotions and feelings made my flesh taut, the tiny hairs along my skin stand on end, when all the while my insides boiled, and my skin chilled.
Damien reached for my trembling hands, holding them to his wide chest. “Ella, look at me.”
My gaze moved from where he held my hands, up to his tightly clenched jaw, prominent cheekbones, protruding veins throbbing near his temples, and finally to his navy-blue stare.
“I promise a better wedding—one you deserve.” His tone was deep, his promise reverberating through me as he squeezed my hands. “This one—tonight—it’s just for legal purposes.”
I looked around the small chapel where the three of us stood. There were no more than five rows of pews on each side. The altar was basic. A wooden cross hung from the wall, highlighted by indirect lighting. Along the side of the room was a table with candles, some lit and others not.
Biting my lip, thoughts of those I cared for flooded my mind. There was my mother, father, sister, brother-in-law, and niece. Friends also came to mind: Niles and Jeremy, Rosemary, and so many others who knew both Damien and me. I’d never dreamed of a grand wedding, yet I had imagined more than a hospital chapel in the middle of the night.
“Miss Crystal,” Pastor Abrams said, her soft brown eyes taking in more than my exterior, as if she could see through to my confused soul. “If you have any reservations about going through with this ceremony...”
“It’s just a ceremony? Right?”
She nodded. “The ceremony is symbolic. Once the county clerk’s office opens, I’ll file for the license. Signing the paper is what will make the two of you married.”
My mouth and throat dried as I tried to swallow. Again, I looked up at Damien, sensing the stress that hung around him like a cloud. It was visible in the small lines around his eyes, the way his chiseled jaw tightened, and the taut muscles showed beneath his skin.
“Your dad?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We don’t know. He’s still in surgery.”
“Sinclair Pharmaceuticals.”
His nostrils flared. “The wedding could be moot.”
“Or it could secure your position,” I said as a new thought occurred to me. I longed to call Niles to ask him if he could hear me, if I was still present.
This marriage had been my idea.
I’d been the one to announce our engagement.
“Aruba?” I asked, recalling what he’d recently confessed.
“I still have the ring, in Indianapolis.”
Sucking in a breath, I spun toward the sound of the opening door at the far end of the small aisle. Dani came rushing toward us, still wearing the clothes from hours before. She handed me a red rose tied with a ribbon and gave something to Damien.
“Surely the gift shop is closed,” I said, taking the rose.
“I pulled some strings. It seems hospital security isn’t unaccustomed to wedding emergencies.”
Damien looked down into the palm of his hand, closed his fingers around an object, and shook his head. “No.”
Dani laid her fingers over his balled fist. “Mom said she wants you to use it—to have it.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
Damien forced his closed hand toward his sister. “We don’t need a ring to make this legal.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Your mom can’t offer her wedding ring.”
Dani forced a smile. “She didn’t. It isn’t. The band was our grandmother’s. Since Nana passed, Mom has always worn her ring on her right hand. She wants you to have it, Ella. She wants to be here, but she can’t make herself leave the waiting room.
“We know this wedding is rushed, but you can’t erase the years you were part of our lives. My brother is the one who needs to make this right.” She feigned a smile. “Like they say, you don’t only marry the person, you marry the family. Our family loves you.”
I would guess Dani’s new sister-in-law wasn’t a fan, but maybe she wasn’t including Amber in the overall family umbrella.
Sniffing, I worked to keep my emotions at bay as I looked up to Damien. “If you don’t want to use it, we don’t need a ring.”
“I want you to have the best. A seventy-year-old band isn’t the best.”
“May I see it?” I asked.
Slowly, Damien opened his fingers. The ring lying upon his palm looked too small. Yet as I reached for it, I realized that it was the size of his hand that dwarfed the band. In my fingers, the band looked as if it would fit. I twisted the golden circle, rolling it between the tips of my finger and thumb. I squinted my eyes. “There’s an inscription.”
“Really?” Dani questioned, reaching for the band. “I never knew that.” She took the ring toward a light and turned it until she began to read, “It says: Don’t let the flame extinguish. Always rekindle.”
For a moment, the words of the inscription hung heavily in the air.
Finally, I admitted, “I never knew your grandparents. Rekindle.” The word settled into my psyche.
To relight.
To revive—something that has been lost.
“Rekindle,” I repeated the word and looked at Dani. “Does Marsha really want me to have it?”
Dani nodded. “She does. Who knew Nana and Papa were romantics?”
“They sound practical,” I replied. “As if they knew what it took to keep a relationship working.”
“If you ask me,” the pastor said, “I think they are giving timely advice from Heaven. Flames aren’t difficult to ignite, whether of love, desire, or lust. A spark can turn an entire forest to ash. However, that flash is incapable of igniting the forest fire alone. The striking of metal and flint creates a flicker, yet without fuel, the spark dies. To truly ignite the blaze requires other elements. I think your grandparents’ inscription means they understood that to keep the flames burning, it takes work.” Her smile broadened. “All relationships ebb and flow. That is life. Taking the time and making the effort to rekindle the fire—that is what is required for a successful relationship.”
The buzzing in my ears stilled as I held the wedding band. When I looked up at Damien, there were tears in my eyes.
His palm gently came to my cheek. “Ella.”
On the plane to LA, he’d asked me what I would have said if he’d proposed in Aruba. My honest answer was I didn’t know. That didn’t mean I would have said no or yes. I truly didn’t know. There was a time I imagined my forever with the man before me.
My leaving him was because I felt as if when with him, I disappeared. Maybe if he had proposed, I would have known that I wasn’t invisible—that he saw me.
“Five months,” Damien whispered. “If what we shared isn’t rekindled, we’ll agree to amicably part ways.”
Part ways.
Is that possible now that we’ve both remembered the passion?
The clergy spoke. “I don’t encourage contingency plans at a wedding.”
I scoffed. Of course, she didn’t. Then again, she didn’t know our history. I feigned a smile. “Maybe you should. It sets a goal.”
