The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 409

Chapter 409

Gemma’s POV

Mikhail’s hand is warm and steady at the small of my back as we move through the steps, swaying to the rhythm.

Suddenly, he leans in, his breath a tickle against my ear. “Your ex-husband is on approach. At ten o’clock. And he looks… volcanic.”

I stiffen, my head turning just as a large, familiar hand clamps down on Mikhail’s shoulder and shoves, hard. Mikhail stumbles back a step, his balance impeccable even in surprise.

Cassian steps into the space between us, “You’d better not be messing with me!”

Mikhail’s eyes, usually so easygoing, flash with a cold. alertness. My own breath hitches. I know that look. I see his hand twitch, his arm bending at an angle that means only one thing… he’s reaching for the concealed holster at his waist.

“Mikhail, don’t!”

The words are out in a sharp, panicked whisper. I lunge forward, not at Cassian, but at Mikhail, my own hand slapping down over his wrist, pressing it firmly against his side.

He looks from Cassian’s furious face to mine, the conflict

clear in his eyes. After a tense second, he forces his hand to relax, letting it fall away.

I make a mental note, my heart still hammering: I have to get that gun away from him. Permanently.

Cassian’s attention is fully on me now, “I need to talk to you.”

The last thing Dream International needs is a brawl at its anniversary gala. I give a tight, reluctant nod.

“Fine.”

I shoot Mikhail a stand down look and follow Cassian as he cuts a path through the crowd toward the French doors that lead to the gardens.

Outside, the air is scented with night-blooming jasmine and damp earth. A mosquito buzzes near my ear. I swat at it irritably. A moment later, a small insect repellent spray is being offered to me, held in Cassian’s hand.

I stare at it, then at him. Since when does Cassian Blackwell carry bug spray? The mundane consideration is more disorienting than his anger.

I take it, give a quick, perfunctory spray around my ankles, and hand it back. “Alright,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “What is this about?”

He just stands beside me, his gaze sweeping over my face as if he’s seeing it for the first time. “Gemma,” he says finally, his voice quiet. “How long did you plan to keep this from me?”

My heart gives a hard, painful thud. Which ‘this’? There’s a whole encyclopedia of secrets!

I force my expression to remain blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Still pretending?”

The question isn’t angry, it’s almost weary.

I take a steadying breath. “I’m not pretending. I genuinely don’t know which particular secret you’re referring to.”

His hand dips into the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket. For a wild, irrational second, I think of Mikhail, and my muscles tense, preparing for a weapon.

But what he pulls out is a simple, elegant rectangle of white cardstock. He holds it up, pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

My blood runs cold.

Cassian’s eyes lock onto mine. “Explain. Who is Moonlight?”

The last time he asked this, he was accusing Zina. Who is he assuming now?

I paste on a smile and glide over. “Hello. You’re Mr. Butler, right? I’m Gemma. I’ve really enjoyed your recent work, your performance in ‘Midnight River’ was particularly…”

I don’t even finish. He turns his head, and his eyes roll so far back I’m surprised they don’t stick. “Can’t you autograph hounds take a night off? I do have a private life, you know. Some of us are actually working.”

I’m stunned into silence. Autograph hound?

“I think you misunderstand,”I try again, keeping my tone polite. “I’m not a fan, I’m a—”

“I don’t have time for this,” he cuts me off with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “If you don’t want security to escort you out for stalking, you’ll leave. Now. I’m busy, and I’m certainly not signing anything.”

The image of him shatters, leaving behind the bitter residue of a very ordinary, very arrogant man.

Zina finds me a moment later, a fresh glass in her hand. She follows my gaze to where Robby is now laughing obsequiously at something Mikhail is saying.

She nudges me. “Wasn’t he your guy of the hour? Go on, get his number! He’s right there!”

I drain the rest of my orange juice in one gulp. “Forget it. I’m over it.”

Zina’s eyebrows shoot up. “What? Since when do you lose interest that fast? It’s barely been a day!”

Since he opened his mouth, I think. And because Zina is my best friend, I give her the abbreviated truth. “He’s arrogant.”

“What?” She glances back at Robby, who is now practically bowing as he shakes Mikhail’s hand. “He doesn’t look arrogant. He looks… eager to please.”

“Exactly,” I mutter.

The contrast between his real self and that charming persona is frankly nauseating. I can’t believe I wasted even a moment of mental energy on him.