The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 179

179 /397

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 179**

**16:31**

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**The Don Tore Up Our Divorce**

Their biceps bulge against the fabric of their tailored suits, and their scrutinizing gazes slice through the air like knives. Thick necks and broad shoulders; their very presence radiates a clear message: ‘Don’t even think about starting something unless you’re prepared for it to end in disaster.’

Yet, it’s the man seated at the back who truly captures my attention. Although he’s positioned in the shadows, his presence is palpable, like a storm brewing on the horizon. His dark hair is cropped short in a military style, and his jawline is sharp enough to cut glass.

A pair of aviator sunglasses obscures his eyes, but I can feel the weight of his gaze resting on us, lingering as he chews gum leisurely, as if time itself has no hold on him. The fabric of his jacket shifts slightly as he leans forward, revealing a physique that speaks of strength and discipline.

He stands taller than most, but it’s evident that his imposing size isn’t the sole reason he commands authority in this room.

He tilts his head toward the man beside him and mutters something in Russian, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

“Почему прислали двух женщин? Разве никого компетентного не было?”

The question hangs in the air, and I can feel my skin prickle with indignation. ‘Why did they send two women? Didn’t they have anyone competent available?’

Before the tension can thicken, I find myself responding in the same language, my words spilling out without hesitation.

“Те, кто судят по полу, некомпетентные.”

—

‘People who judge by gender are the truly incompetent ones.’

It’s as if I’ve tossed a stone into a tranquil pond; every head in the room pivots toward me, eyes wide with surprise.

The metallic click of guns being drawn echoes ominously in the silence. Although they aren’t yet aimed at me, the threat is palpable, the air suddenly feeling electric and thin.

My pulse races in my ears, and I notice Zina’s hand shift slightly, poised to react, though I doubt she could do much against a dozen armed men.

In that charged moment, the man raises a single hand, and his guards come to an immediate halt. A cocky half-smirk plays on his lips, yet the condescension in his gaze remains unyielding.

Неважно, he says, waving his hand dismissively.

Just one word: ‘enough,’ and like magic, all the men lower their weapons without question.

He deliberately switches to English for his next statement, ensuring everyone understands.

“Whatever they are, these two are the representatives of our allies. We don’t manhandle ladies.”

The unspoken “for now” lingers in the air, a subtle reminder that his patience is not infinite.

—

**Gemma’s POV**

Zina and I step out of the hotel lobby precisely at the appointed time. The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm glow, while the air is laced with the briny scent of the nearby ocean.