The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 156

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 156**

**Chapter 156**

**Gemma’s POV**

I find myself at a loss for words, utterly taken aback by his audacity. “Excuse me?” I manage to stammer, my heart racing.

How can he be so brazen, especially when he knows I’m married? To Cassian Blackwell, no less—doesn’t he have any regard for his own safety? The thought of it sends a shiver down my spine.

Yet, he merely offers me a warm, easy-going smile, as if my marital status is of no consequence to him.

“Miss Gemma,” he says, his tone friendly and reassuring, “I really don’t think it’s wise for you to venture out alone in this weather. The wind is picking up, and you might end up catching a cold. Please, allow me to drive you. I insist.”

I can feel the dampness clinging to my clothes, making me feel like a drenched rag left out in the rain, but I don’t need him to remind me of that.

“I… I don’t think so,” I reply awkwardly, wrapping my arms around myself in a futile attempt to ward off the chill. “I can manage to get home on my own—”

“Please,” he interrupts gently, his eyes earnest, “I really don’t feel comfortable with you walking home alone. Just let me drop you off, I promise I won’t pry into your life.”

His sincerity is disarming, and I find myself unable to refuse his offer. With a reluctant nod, I relent.

“Okay… thank you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

I slide into the passenger seat, taking care not to soak his car with my wet clothes. The moment I fasten my seatbelt, he starts the engine and pulls away, but instead of heading toward Blackwell Manor, he navigates to a quiet, upscale restaurant, parking in front of it.

Confusion washes over me. “What… why have you brought me here?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

He reaches into the backseat and retrieves a sleek shopping bag, handing it to me with a casual air.

“I happen to have a spare set of clean clothes,” he explains. “Please, take these inside and change in the washroom. You’ll feel so much better afterward.”

I pause, overwhelmed by the unexpected kindness. “Wait… what?! I can’t wear your clothes. That’s… that’s not appropriate at all! And I can’t just walk into a restaurant like this—”

But before I can voice any further objections, Kane has already stepped out of the car, circling around to open the passenger door for me.

“First of all, Miss Gemma, they are women’s clothes, freshly dry-cleaned. And secondly…” he adds with a playful glint in his eyes, “nobody here will stop you because I happen to own the place, and you’re my guest.”

Before I can formulate any more protests, he gently nudges me toward the entrance. A waitress appears almost instantly, leading me toward the restroom.

Five minutes later, I emerge clad in a surprisingly well-fitting brown jersey dress. I pat down my damp hair as best as I can and stuff my soaked clothes into the carry bag.

As I step out, Kane is waiting by the reception, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“Thank you,” I say, turning to the waitress.

“I hope to see you again, ma’am!” she beams, her smile brightening the atmosphere.

Kane turns to me, his expression warm. “Are you hungry? Do you want to eat something first?”

I shake my head vigorously, horrified at the thought. “No! Of course not. I don’t want to impose on you any more than I already have.”

With a knowing smile, he opens the car door for me. “As you wish. But that dress really suits you, by the way.”

I glance down at the dress, adjusting the sleeves nervously, questioning my decision to accept his help in the first place.

Before I can stop myself, the question slips out. “Why did you have a spare dress in your car?”

The moment the words leave my lips, I realize how intrusive that sounds. What am I doing, prying into his personal life without any right?

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify