The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 178

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

**Chapter 178**

**Gemma’s POV**

Zina jolts upright, her eyes narrowing at the door with a fierce intensity. “What the hell? We just checked in a few hours ago, and they’re already here for a check?”

Her voice cuts through the air, sharp and tinged with annoyance, but beneath that, I can sense a tremor of panic simmering just below the surface.

I push myself off the bed, raising a hand in a calming gesture. “Just take a breath, Zina. I’ll take care of this.”

With a quick sweep of my fingers through my hair, I square my shoulders and stride across the room in four determined steps, twisting the doorknob just as another knock reverberates against the wood.

As the door swings open, a wave of clarity washes over me, and everything falls into place.

Cassian leans nonchalantly against the doorframe, clad in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the sinewy veins on his forearms.

The hallway light glints off his sharp, calculating eyes, and he exudes an air of authority that makes it seem as though he owns not just this hotel but every soul within its walls. Behind him, two of his men flank the hotel manager, whose face is pale, betraying a hint of fear.

It’s the manager who breaks the thick silence first, his voice steady but strained. “Good evening, madam. I apologize for the disturbance, but we need to conduct a routine check to ensure that no intruder has breached the premises.”

He steps forward, gesturing for his men to enter the room before I can voice my objections.

“There’s been a report of a man spotted near your window, and we’re here to ensure your safety,” he continues, his tone deceptively calm.

I can see through his facade; his gaze flickers, betraying the lack of genuine concern. There’s no urgency in his voice, no real alarm.

This is all a performance, and he’s the one orchestrating it.

The manager keeps murmuring apologies as the men begin their invasive search, rifling through closets, scanning corners, and flashing their lights over the windows. Just as I open my mouth to protest, one of them strides toward our laptops.

“Hey!”

I’m still frozen in place when Zina leaps from the bed, snatching our laptops and clutching them to her chest like they’re precious treasures.

“This has my personal stuff on it! Just back off!” she demands, her voice ringing with protective urgency.

The man freezes, casting a glance toward Cassian, seeking direction. But Cassian doesn’t even spare him a glance. His focus is solely on me.

“Come with me,” he commands, his voice low and unyielding.

“Excuse me? Cassian, what—”

I start to protest, but before I can finish, he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close.

“Enough games, Gemma…”

His voice is a murmur against my ear, and before I can wriggle free, he lifts me effortlessly, tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of flour, securing an arm around the back of my thighs.

“Cassian! Put me down!”

I pound my fists against his back, but his grip is unyielding. I catch a glimpse of Zina, still locked in a heated argument with the guards, and then Cassian strides down the hallway, his pace unbroken, ignoring my protests and the bewildered stares of a couple passing by.

By the time he kicks open the door to our suite, I’m practically seething with rage. He drops me onto the bed without ceremony, and I bounce softly against the mattress, the impact jolting me.

I barely have a moment to collect myself before he leans over me, one hand bracing beside my head. The grin on his lips is infuriatingly smug, a perfect embodiment of provocation.

“Feeling more obedient now?”

I glare up at him, my voice dripping with defiance. “Get away from me!”

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