The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 11

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 11**

**Gemma**

The moment Zina picks up the phone, her voice bursts through the receiver like a melody, “Hellooo!” It’s a playful sing-song that immediately contrasts with the chaotic noise in the background. I can make out a man’s voice, boisterous and laughing, but I push that aside.

“Zina, I’ve made my decision. I’ll take the job,” I announce, raising my voice to ensure she hears me clearly over the din.

Her laughter rings out, bright and infectious. “Excellent! You will not regret this. We’re back in business, bitch!”

With a triumphant grin, I end the call, almost flinging my phone onto the couch in a moment of exuberance. But a thought stops me short. I take a breath, reconsider, and swiftly block Cassian’s number before I set the phone down.

—

Later that evening, the door swings open, and Zina stumbles in, her energy still buzzing from the night’s escapades. I remain awake, my mind swirling with frustration from Cassian’s unexpected visit earlier.

As she kicks off her dazzling silver heels—shoes that make her legs look impossibly long—I can’t help but vent. “You won’t believe what happened with Cassian,” I say, my voice laced with irritation.

“Asshole,” she mutters, her fingers instinctively massaging her aching feet. “I’m telling you, girl, you’re better off without him. Sure, he’s a sexy-as-sin billionaire mafia boss who could toss you over his shoulder with one hand, but who needs that kind of drama?”

“Ugh, that doesn’t help at all,” I groan, rolling my eyes. The last thing I need right now is to be reminded of how undeniably attractive Cassian is.

Suddenly, Zina’s expression shifts, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Besides, we’re about to make a fortune that will dwarf his riches. And we won’t have to rely on our daddies being rich criminals with shady side hustles.”

I can’t help but snicker, rolling my eyes at her. “What we do is still pretty illegal,” I remind her, “for the most part.”

Of course, there are a few legitimate gigs we take on, like the one Zina is currently working on—uncovering the security breach within Adrian Blackwell’s company, Nautilus.

“Yeah, but think about it,” she counters, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Are we really criminals if the only people we rob are other criminals? I think we’re more like… Robin Hood, don’t you?”

I chuckle, feeling a flicker of excitement at the thought. “Yeah, we are.”

Zina sighs, her foot sliding to the floor with a thud. “Can you grab me a cheese stick from the fridge? My feet are killing me.”

As I open the fridge, a wave of pungent odors hits me like a brick wall. It’s a strange concoction of scents that shouldn’t be offensive—Zina keeps her place tidy, after all—but the way they mingle is simply overwhelming. I slam the door shut, bending over as nausea washes over me.

“Whoa, hey! Barf in the trash!” Zina calls out, her voice surprisingly sharp.

Ignoring the pain in her feet, she leaps up and grabs the trash bin.

“Do not bring that anywhere near me!” I manage to croak out, still trying to catch my breath.

She sets the bin down, opting instead to fill a glass with water, which she hands to me as I slowly recover.

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