The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 149

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 149**

**Gemma’s POV**

As soon as Zina agreed to accompany me, an immense wave of relief washed over me, akin to the sensation of shedding an oppressive weight, like a loaded gun that had been pressed against my spine. The anxiety that had gripped me began to dissipate.

The notion of a honeymoon cover story? It no longer mattered. Even if Cassian decided to bail—once again—on one of our half-cooked plans, I was resolved to go.

To hell with it! Zina and I would transform this into a memorable girls’ trip, and we would savor every moment of it.

The afternoon slipped away far too quickly as Zina and I rummaged through racks of vibrant dresses and stylish cover-ups, each more enticing than the last, perfect for the sun-kissed beaches of Nassau.

Zina held up a slinky red dress, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Girl! You’re gonna give that man a heart attack.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within me. Retail therapy was doing wonders for my soul; by the time I returned to Blackwell Manor, my arms ached from carrying bags, my wallet felt considerably lighter, and the suffocating atmosphere of the manor seemed to lift, if only slightly.

Kicking off my shoes, I began unpacking the treasures from the shopping bags, tossing them haphazardly into my suitcase. I became so engrossed in my task that I lost track of time entirely.

A sharp knock on the door jolted me from my reverie. A servant stood there, politely inviting me downstairs for dinner.

Claire was out at some glamorous party, and Sibille was buried in her office, conducting back-to-back interviews. This left just Grandpa and me for dinner, and honestly? I found myself grateful for the quiet company.

Seated across from each other, we engaged in a pleasant conversation about the garden and the prospect of growing lilacs in the upcoming season. Grandpa animatedly described how finicky the soil had been last spring when we were suddenly interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

He’s back.

Cassian strode into the dining room, his mere presence sucking the air from the room like a vacuum. Dressed in a leather jacket that clung to his frame, he was devastatingly handsome—unfortunately, the universe had balanced that out by making him an insufferable jerk.

Grandpa waved over a servant, his voice steady. “Set a plate for—”

“There’s no need,” Cassian interjected, his tone clipped. He dropped a crumpled paper bag onto the table and pulled out the lunchbox I had packed for him earlier that day. “Just heat this up and bring it back.”

I lifted my gaze from my plate, forcing my voice to adopt a cold, detached tone. “No need to heat it. Just eat the freshly prepared dishes instead. It’s all made by the servants anyway, so it doesn’t make a difference.”

Grandpa, ever my ally, chimed in to back me up. He was the only one I could count on to be in my corner. “She brought it to you at noon, and if you wanted it, there was plenty of time to eat it. Why are you pretending to care about it now? If you genuinely appreciate these gestures, then just act like it!”

Cassian’s knuckles turned white around the handle of the lunch container, as if he were on the verge of hurling it against the wall in a fit of frustration.

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