The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 304

Chapter 304

Gemma’s POV

Cassian’s gaze flicks toward the housekeeper, “Bring me another set of cutlery.”

Chloe’s expression is bright with subtle victory as she

practically floats to the sideboard and returns with a fresh place setting.

Without a second glance at the chicken soup Lauren personally placed before him, Cassian reaches across the table and serves himself a bowl of the rich, creamy mushroom soup from the tureen near my plate.

I see Lauren’s shoulders stiffen, humiliation radiating in waves around her. She opens her mouth, no doubt to offer some weak justification for her efforts.

I cut her off before she can dig the hole deeper. “Lauren,” I say, my tone deliberately light. “You are a nutritionist. If you’re expected to take on the duties of a chef as well, the salary we’re paying you is frankly insufficient.”

I offer her a thin, polite smile. “The Blackwell family doesn’t believe in exploiting its employees. You should focus solely on your area of expertise.”

I’m giving her a graceful exit from the embarrassing position she put herself in by trying to curry favor with my husband, even though we both know that’s what this is about.

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eat whatever my wife is having. There’s no need for separate

meals for us.”

He looks directly at Lauren for the first time, his gaze cool and impersonal, “I hired you to be he nutritionist.”

I watch Lauren’s hand clench into a white–knuckled fist at her side. She’s fighting to maintain control. “I was only concerned that with Mrs. Blackwell’s… condition, the food tailored for her might not be to your taste, Mr. Blackwell. Pregnant women require specific, sometimes richer, nutrition.”

“I find it quite enjoyable.”

To drive the point home, he nonchalantly spears a piece of lemon herb chicken directly from my plate and eats it.

Lauren storms off, the message is received, loud and clear.

XXXXX

After the tense meal, Cassian suggests a walk. The last thing I want to do is stroll around with him… my body is craving the soft embrace of my mattress, and my mind is already dreading the night ahead.

The thought of sharing a bed with him again, after so long sleeping alone, sends a jumble of anxiety and unresolved feelings through me.

“Walking is beneficial for you and the baby.”

He is already pulling on his jacket as if the matter is setued.15:21

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4) Lucky Draw

I want to refuse, but I can feel the eyes of the entire household staff on us. They’re all witnesses to our newly negotiated “togetherness.”

I have no choice. With a silent sigh of resignation, I follow him out the front door.

The moment we’re out of earshot I round on him, my irritation bubbling over. “This pregnancy is a lie, Cassian. I don’t need beneficial‘ walks for a non–existent baby. Aren’t you taking this charade a bit too seriously?”

The words are sharp against the strange intimacy of the situation. I am carrying a child, his child, but he can’t know that.

He doesn’t look at me, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. “You have a weak constitution. Walking is good for you, baby or not.”

I glare at his profile, convinced he’s just trying to make me uncomfortable. But as we walk further into the lush, quiet neighborhood, I have to admit it’s not entirely unpleasant.

The air is cool against my skin, a relief after the heavy, rich food. The world is settling into a peaceful evening, and the orange glow of the streetlights casts a warm, gentle light on our path.

For a moment, it almost feels normal. The tension in my shoulders begins to ease slightly.

We’re about to round a bend in the path when a dark, blurry shape erupts from the dense bushes lining the sidewalk. It moves with startling speed, heading straight for me.

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involuntary scream escapes my lips.

In an instant, Cassian becomes a solid, immovable wall in front of me, his arm shooting out to push me firmly behind him.

My own hands fly out, clutching the solid muscle of his arm, my heart hammering against my ribs. I cling to him, peering cautiously over his shoulder, my breath caught in my throat.

Cassian’s POV

The adrenaline is buzzing in my veins from her scream, my body coiled and ready to confront whatever threat emerged from the shadows.

But under the warm glow of the streetlight, the shape resolves into something harmless, almost comical.

It’s a dog. A large, shaggy German Shepherd with so much hair falling over its eyes I wonder how it can see anything at all. It’s pink tongue is lolling out as it rubs its bulky body against our legs in a display of pure, goofy affection.

I feel the tension drain from Gemma’s body where she’s still clutching my arm. A soft, relieved sigh escapes her.

Her fear melts into a gentle, unguarded warmth I haven’t seen in a long time. She has always had a soft spot for animals.

A girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen with two long braids and a simple linen dress, comes running up, her face flushed with apology. “Milo! Come here, you troublemaker!”

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She scolds fondly.

Lucky Draor

The dog, Milo, its shaggy head at the sound of its name, gives a happy spin, but its allegiance seems firmly with Gemma now, refusing to leave her side.

The girl clasps her hands, her eyes wide with regret. “I’m so sorry! He’s just too playful, I hope he didn’t scare you.”

“It’s alright,” Gemma says, her voice soft. “A lively dog is a happy dog.”

She looks at the girl and asks, “May I pet him?”

“Of course! He’s very gentle. He hardly ever bites!”

Gemma kneels slightly, absolutely confident. She places her hand on the dog’s head, her fingers sinking into the thick, curly fur. A small smile graces her lips, one that reaches her eyes. The orange streetlight catches the edges of her hair, creating a soft halo around her.

In this moment, she looks like an angel, all the sharp edges and defensive walls she carries completely dissolved.

I feel a sudden ache in my chest as my heart begins to beat a faster, heavier rhythm against my ribs. I can only watch her.

“Milo really likes you!” the girl exclaims, breaking the spell. “I’ve never seen him act like this with a stranger!”

Gemma looks up, her smile widening.

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“Really? Maybe I just have a way with animals.” She says it with such simple belief, and I find myself believing it too. She’s always had that effect, even on the aloof cat at the manor.

She spends a few more minutes scratching Milo’s belly as he rolls over in ecstasy on the grass, his legs kicking happily in the air. Eventually, she straightens up, bidding the girl and her dog a warm goodbye.

“I live just over there…” the girl says, pointing. “If you ever want to play with Milo again, just come find me! Bye!”

Gemma waves back, her movements light and easy. She turns to me, the remnants of that gentle smile still on her face. “Let’s head back. I think we’ve walked enough.”

I just look at her, “You really like animals…”

She stretches, “What girl can resist something that fluffy?”

She replies, her tone light and effortless. I watch her for another moment, this woman who can be a fortress of cold logic one moment and melt into a puddle of affection for a shaggy dog the

next.

“I understand…”

I say quietly. I’m beginning to understand a great many things.