The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 52

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**
**Chapter 52**

**Gemma**

It’s not some random guy thinking I’m an easy target because of Claire’s careless words, and for that, I’m genuinely relieved.

No, it’s Cassian. I should have anticipated this.

His large hand grips my forearm, possessive and fierce, as his glare zeroes in on Jace, the uninvited guest in this tense moment.

“I think you’ve leaned on him enough for tonight,” Cassian asserts, his voice low but laced with authority.

I’m utterly taken aback by Cassian’s sudden assertiveness, especially in such a public setting. The way he’s acting, so protective, feels both infuriating and oddly comforting. But I refuse to let him dictate my actions like I’m some fragile flower needing to be shielded.

“I came here with—”

I cut myself off, hissing, “What are you doing, Mr. Blackwell?” My voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, but I can’t hide the irritation simmering beneath the surface.

“You are my wife,” he replies, mirroring my tone with a steely resolve. “If you’re leaving, I’m going to ensure you get home.”

I glance at Jace and can see the tension coiling within him, like a spring ready to snap. Just like last time, I feel the instinct to shield him, to keep Cassian from unleashing whatever wrath he might be harboring.

Taking a deep breath, I inhale through my nose, counting to five as I try to summon patience from the depths of my being.

“All right,” I concede, my voice steadying. “Jace, thank you for your help tonight. If Mr. Blackwell is so determined to escort me back to Zina’s place, then I’ll allow it.”

Jace looks back and forth between Cassian and me, his expression a mix of wariness and defiance. I can feel a pang of fear in my chest, worried he might decide to confront Cassian after all.

He seems ready to stand his ground against the mafia king, and for a fleeting moment, I admire his bravery. But then, to my relief, he backs down.

In this world where civility is often a façade, I know that an event like this banquet can spiral into chaos in an instant. I don’t want any of that chaos to spill over onto my friends.

Cassian starts to pull me along, his grip firm, but I yank my wrist free from his hold. “Offer me your arm,” I command, my tone sharper than I intended.

Fire ignites in Cassian’s gaze. “Are you giving me a command, little rabbit?” he growls, his voice a low rumble that sends delicious shivers racing down my spine. I fight against the warmth pooling in my belly, unwilling to succumb to the attraction that lingers between us.

“Yes,” I reply simply, my resolve hardening. “If you wish to escort me, do so politely, or I will create a scene.”

He emits that deep, growling sound again, something primal flickering in his eyes. Yet, slowly, he extends his arm, offering it to me.

Watching him, the beast within him subdued yet simmering, as he performs a gesture that should be gentlemanly, does things to my heart that I can’t afford to acknowledge. Not if I truly want to untangle my emotions from his grasp.

After leaning on Jace for support all night, I can’t deny there’s a different kind of strength in Cassian. Jace is strong, yes, but Cassian feels like iron and stone—unyielding and formidable.

“Then tell your cousin to stop spreading those rumors,” I hiss, leaning back in my seat. “It’s really not a big deal.”

He shifts closer, his intensity radiating off him. “Not a big deal? You have no idea what kind of men attend these events, Gemma. What they might do if they think they can corner a woman who seems…receptive.”

His eyes glaze over, lost in a memory that sends a shiver down my spine. “Finding out you aren’t receptive won’t stop them once they’ve set their sights on getting what they want.”

I shudder at the thought, but I refuse to let fear dictate my actions. I’m an adult now. “I’ll handle it,” I assert, my voice steady.

At the exact moment, Cassian declares, “I’ll handle it.”

I roll my eyes, exasperated. “No thanks.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, bewildered.

“I mean I’ve got it under control,” I reply firmly.

He scoffs, his smirk dripping with condescension. “Oh, do you? The unemployed warehouse girl is going to figure out how to keep herself safe from the most dangerous men in the mafia underworld?”

His arrogance ignites my fury. I slam my fist against the divider, my voice rising. “Stop this damn car!”