The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 22

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 22**

**Gemma**

As the silence lingers, an unsettling wave of uncertainty begins to swell within me.

Have I overstepped my bounds?

Across the room, Cassian’s aunts, Natalia and Eleanor, exchange glances that speak volumes of their disapproval.

It’s clear I’ve stunned everyone present. Their expressions suggest that they perceive me as aggressive, perhaps even a threat.

The notion is almost comical. Here I am, standing in a room filled with wealth and power, while I possess neither a multimillion-dollar bank account nor a cadre of bodyguards to shield me.

What I truly wish for is not to face this daunting situation all alone.

*****

**Cassian**

18:45

I linger in the shadows just outside the room, observing the way my family interacts with my wife.

A surge of anger courses through me. Each disrespectful word aimed at her is a direct affront to me.

In the three years of our marriage, I’ve never witnessed them speak to her with such disdain, yet the casualness with which they do so tonight suggests this is a familiar routine for them.

But Gemma’s defiance? That’s something new.

I find myself unexpectedly impressed by her wit. My wife possesses a cleverness I hadn’t fully recognized before. Her retorts are sharp and pointed.

Yet, in this setting, she shouldn’t have to defend herself at all. As my wife, she holds a higher status than any of them. They should show her the respect she deserves.

Gemma confided in me about their past rudeness. I brushed it off, thinking she was simply being overly sensitive.

Now, I wonder if perhaps I’ve misjudged the situation entirely.

I narrow my eyes, feeling the tension in the air, and step into the room. Instantly, all eyes turn to me, their attention snapping like a taut string. As the acting head of this family, their fates and fortunes rest in my hands.

I stride over to Gemma’s side, speaking directly to her, “Dinner is ready.”

I extend my hand to assist her in rising from the couch, but she stands on her own, a quiet determination in her demeanor. “I can find my way. You should go in with your grandfather.”

A wave of displeasure washes over me at her clear dismissal, especially in front of everyone else. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her close.

To my relief, she doesn’t resist. I would hate to create a scene in front of my family.

“Grandpa is already waiting. I’ll walk with you, Wife.”

Gemma’s eyes widen in surprise, the soft green of her irises reflecting a mix of confusion and curiosity, as if she can’t comprehend why I would want to accompany her.

Her newfound intrigue is entirely her own doing.

We enter the expansive dining room, dominated by a long, heavy table. My grandfather is already seated at the head, as is his rightful place.

These are a staple at our dinners at home, a clear indication that she enjoys them as much as I do.

Yet, Gemma stares at the beans, her discomfort palpable.

“Eat,” I whisper urgently, leaning in closer. “We need to appear harmonious for my grandfather. You want Seaside Manor, don’t you?”

She forces a smile and leans in, as if sharing a secret meant only for my ears. Her hand rests on my knee, and the warmth of her breath against my neck sends a rush of desire through me.

Damn it. I want her again. Once simply isn’t enough.

“I don’t eat almonds,” she replies softly.

A frown creases my brow at her stubbornness. She’s refusing to eat simply because I placed it on her plate. “Yes, you do. We have these all the time at home. You love them.”

“No, Cassian,” she insists, her voice low and intimate, sending shivers down my spine.

“Reyna loves almonds,” she continues, “but I’m allergic to them. I only have them served at home because you like them.”

I blink, taken aback.

I had no idea.

Taking a deep breath, she explains, “I have to take a pill before any meal where tree nuts are used, just to be safe. But I didn’t bring my pills today, so I can’t eat this. Not even for you.”

A flash of embarrassment washes over me; I don’t like feeling this way, especially about something as fundamental as my wife’s dietary restrictions.

I hiss back, “Why bring Reyna into this? You could have simply said you were allergic. Why do you always make everything about her?”