The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 114

**TITLE: Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 114**

**Cassian**

It feels like an eternity since I’ve been this close to Gemma, and every passing moment has been a struggle, a constant battle against the overwhelming urge to reach out to her. Every day, I’ve been holding back, suppressing the intense longing that swells within me like a tide ready to crash.

In the enveloping darkness, Gemma’s perfume intoxicates me, wrapping around my senses like a warm embrace, igniting a deep craving for the softness of her skin, the delicate brush of her fingers against mine. The tension builds within me, my sweatpants becoming uncomfortably tight, a physical manifestation of my desire.

I can hear her breathing, quick and uneven, mirroring my own need for her. I let my hand glide along her waist, the warmth of her body igniting a fire within me. I know every inch of her, every sensitive spot that makes her shiver. Under my touch, she yields like water, pliable and inviting. Even in the dim light, I can make out the rosy hue of her cheeks and the wide, startled gaze in her eyes.

Her lips, slightly parted and glistening from the nervous bites she’s taken, beckon me closer. The sight of her, so vulnerable and delicate, sends my control spiraling away. I can’t hold back any longer; pleasure washes over me in a rush, leaving me gasping, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

It’s been years since I’ve lost control like this, since I’ve felt the rush of ecstasy that comes with such abandon—since my teenage years, to be exact.

**12:17**

Once the wave of pleasure subsides, I lean down, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, a gesture filled with reverence.

Gemma remains stock-still, her eyes wide with surprise, staring at me as if I’ve just performed an act of magic.

And, to be honest, I have.

I open my mouth, ready to offer her some sort of explanation, but before I can utter a word, my phone vibrates on the nightstand, slicing through the fragile silence that envelops us.

“Who could possibly be calling at this hour?” I mutter, frowning as I reach for the device, glancing at the screen before answering.

“Mhm, understood,” I say, my voice low. A servant is informing me that the driver has picked up some of Gemma’s daily necessities she left behind and has brought them here.

I lean down again, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. She doesn’t pull away this time, but her expression is frosty as she questions, “Was that Reyna? Are you leaving now?”

Her words hit me like a cold splash of water. What is she thinking?

“I’m not leaving. I just need to grab something from downstairs,” I reply, my tone steady, trying to reassure her.

It was just a brief phone call, and already she’s spiraled into a whirlwind of doubt?

Gemma continues to scrutinize me, as if searching for some hidden truth. Just then, a knock on the door interrupts our intense gaze.

I rise, open the door, and return with a handful of items.

Only then does Gemma notice what I’m carrying—her everyday essentials and a few pieces of luggage.

“We’ll be staying at Grandpa’s for a bit,” I explain, keeping my voice calm and soothing, hoping to provide her with a sense of security. “I had someone bring you the things you might need.”

“I don’t need them,” she huffs, pulling the covers tightly around herself as if to shield herself from me.

**12:17**

Her cold tone makes me sigh in exasperation.

“Can you please stop being so reactive all the time?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.

“Then why don’t you find someone calmer?” comes her muffled retort from beneath the blanket.

“You know that’s not what I mean. There’s no need to push me away,” I respond, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I know I didn’t fully understand the impact Reyna had on Gemma before. There were misunderstandings, yes, but now that I’m aware, I’m more than willing to mend things between us.

Even if divorce is on the horizon, I want this year to be one of peace.

“Cassian, everything between us is clear now. Let’s not waste our energy on things that don’t matter,” she states, her voice steady but laced with finality.

Things that don’t matter?

Is she implying that my feelings for her don’t count? Is she attempting to sever all ties with me completely? I’ve put so much effort into this, and now she seems indifferent?

**12:17**

That realization ignites anger within me.

Yet, I don’t want to fall back into our usual cycle of conflict, risking a deeper rift between us. Still, I can’t remain in this room; I don’t trust myself to maintain my composure.

I don’t care if Donovan notices anything amiss tomorrow. I storm out, slamming the door behind me with a force that echoes my frustration.

“I don’t have any plans,” I respond gently. “If Cassian is okay with it, I’ll go.”

I’m fully aware of Donovan’s intentions—he’s giving us a chance to mend our relationship.

“He’s okay with it,” Donovan asserts firmly, the Mafia don leaving no room for dissent.

Cassian nods, his expression softening. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. I’ll take Gemma.”

That seems to appease Donovan.

“This isn’t just any event—it’s to welcome significant European connections. This partnership is crucial for both Blackwell Industries and the Blackwell family. I’m counting on you two not to screw this up. If we make a good impression, the deal we can secure will outshine every other gun supplier in North America.”

Well then. No pressure, I think to myself.

After breakfast, I meander around the estate, engaging in light conversation with Donovan. As long as I can avoid Cassian, everything will be just fine.

Later that afternoon, Cassian and I set off for the reception together.

I haven’t packed many formal dresses, so I opt for a light blue one, applying a touch of lipstick and simple makeup to complete the look.

Halfway through the drive, Cassian’s phone rings. It’s Claire.

“Hey, Cassian! I’m heading to the event too. Can I catch a ride with you guys? Where are you now? Can you swing by and pick me up?”

No wonder I didn’t see her this morning—she must have left early. But where had she disappeared to?

**12:17**

“Send me your location. I’ll come get you,” Cassian responds quickly, hanging up after getting the address.

He turns the car around, and soon after, Claire hops in. She spots me immediately, adorned in a gem-encrusted designer gown, her hair styled to perfection—she looks excessively glamorous.

With a roll of her eyes, she plops into the seat beside me without uttering a word.

Perfect. I’m not in the mood for conversation either.