The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 402

Chapter 402

Zina’s POV

We’re squeezed into the back row, a trio of terrible spies. Molly’s eyes are locked on the back of William’s head like laser sights. I can almost see her imagining him whipping out a switchblade.

I can’t take it. I yank hard on her sleeve. “Stop staring so intensely,” I hiss. “You’ll get us caught.”

Her gaze is like a spotlight, blatant and obvious. A stray dog eyeing a fence has more subtlety.

She flinches, her whole body slumping back into the plush velvet seat. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I’m inexperienced.”

That’s an understatement, since she’s clearly more nervous than Gemma is right now.

Just then, the side door to the stairwell opens, slicing a beam of light across the floor. A figure steps in, moves with a quiet confidence down our row, and slides into the empty seat right beside me. Cassian is here.

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Why are you so late? I mouth the words, my hands making frantic, silent gestures.

He doesn’t even look at me. His eyes ar

い

eady fixed

ahead. “Traffic,” he mutters, the single word tight and dismissive.

As he says it, his gaze lands on William and hardens instantly. I roll my eyes. Great!

He and Molly are the same. Two predators with zero chill, both immediately zeroing in on the target with a focus so intense it’s practically audible.

I reach over and yank the brim of his/baseball cap down, almost over his nose. “Do you even know how to stalk properly?”

I whisper–shout.

He presses his lips into a thin line and I see the effort it takes, the sheer force of will he’s exerting to stay still and not charge down the aisle.

This isn’t him being reckless… he’s holding back. For

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Gemma.

Just then, William leans in, his head dipping close to Gemma’s ear. He whispers somethin

the gesture makes my breath catch.

e intimacy of

Gemma gives a small nod and William stands up. He steps past her, into the aisle, and walks out of the theater, leaving her alone in the semi–darkness.

Gemma’s POV

0

The moment William disappears through the exit door, I twist in my seat. My eyes sweep the darkened rows behind me, doing a quick count.

Zina, Jace, Molly… and one more. A fourth figure, sitting rigidly beside them, a baseball cap pulled down so far it shadows his entire face.

Who is he? Probably just another moviegoer who chose the emptiest row. But with his cap angled like that, can he even see the screen?

“Gemma,” Zina’s urgent whisper carries over the film’s soundtrack. “What’s going on? Where did he go?”

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“The restroom!” I whisper back.

“Is he planning something?” Jace’s voice is low, tense.

A cold shiver traces my spine. “Just keep an eye out…”

I murmur, my hand tightening around the cold cup in my hand, slick with condensation.

“If he tries anything, I’ll throw this lemonade at him.”

Before Zina can respond, William returns. Everyone behind me ducks their heads in unison, in a comically synchronized flinch.

He slides back into his seat and leans in close again. “When I was out there, I overheard people talking. Someone was outside buying tickets for this show. A thousand dollars each!”

I frown, totally bewildered. “What?”

He shrugs, a faint smile on his lips. “Maybe they just have more money than they know what to do with.”

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The movie drones on. I’ve seen it a dozen times; I could recite the dialogue in my sleep. But with William beside me, I can’t focus on a single frame.

Just then, the screen stutters. The ima erks, skips, and finally freezes in a perfect shot of the male lead on one knee, proposing.

I’m about to turn and ask William if the projector’s broken when the house lights blaze on, sudden and

harsh.

William stands up.

Behind me, I hear the sharp intake of four breaths being held.

“Gemma-”

Zina’s warning cry is cut off by her own command. “Don’t move! Sit down!”

“Stay right where you are!” Jace’s voice barks.

In the blinding light, with William turning toward me, and I don’t think. I act.

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I launch myself up from my seat and hurl the entire contents of my cup straight at his face.

shirt and

The liquid hits him, drenching his hair dripping from his chin. I scramble back, and a solid, familiar presence is suddenly there, stepping between William and me like a human shield.

Cassian?!

William just stands there, stunned. He blinks, and that’s when I notice that in his left hand, clutched awkwardly at his side, is a small, bedraggled bouquet of roses, now spotted with watery citrus.

At the same moment, a few people in the very front row, people I hadn’t even noticed, twist around. They raise little party poppers and POP! POP! POP! A shower of cheap confetti rains down, sticking to William’s wet clothes and hair, turning the scene into a bizarre, pathetic carnival.

I stare, my brain struggling to catch up. I look up at Cassian’s profile. “What are you doing here?”

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He doesn’t look at me, his eyes fixed on William. “Just watching a movie.”

I’m speechless. I look back at William, f

the flowers.

V

y processing

William swipes a hand down his face, sputtering. “Ms. Marino,” he says, his voice shaky with confusion, “I….. I meant to ask today if you’d consider being my girlfriend. But it seems there’s been a… serious misunderstanding.”

Before I can form a word, Zina shouts from the back, “Aren’t you here to kill Gemma?”

Molly nods furiously. “Just be honest! Who sent you?”

William looks from them to me, his confusion seemingly genuine. His friends in the front row take advantage of the chaos and slip out, abandoning him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, utterly

lost.

“I’ve seen the security footage from the Bernard party. You’re the one who pushed me into the pool. So quit the performance.”

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When did he even get the flowers? The thought nags. Did

he know we were onto him? But how?

“What party? I don’t know anything ab

hat.” He takes

a shuddering breath, confetti trembling.. nis shoulder.

“Ms. Marino, if you didn’t want to accept, you could have just said no. You didn’t have to go to these lengths. I’m a chef, and a law–abiding citizen. I’m not into violence.”

I watch him, the sincerity in his dripping, confetti–flecked face warring with the evidence I know. I don’t know what to believe.

He glances at Zina, then at our little assembled group, and a flicker of understanding crosses his features. “Honestly,” he says, a bitter laugh escaping him, “the only things I’ve ever ‘handled‘ are sea bass. But I’m… impressed by the production value of this rejection.” He gives me a curt, defeated nod. “Sorry for the interruption. I won’t bother you again.”

He moves to leave, but Cassian shifts, blocking his path. Without a word, Cassian pulls out his phone, taps the screen, and holds it up, shoving it directly into William’s

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line of sight.

Cassian’s voice is a low, dangerous ice. “Wait, Mr. Clark. Where are you going before featuring it best role of your life? Your acting skills are really great, I have to say. Just have a look for yourself!”