The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 57

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

**Chapter 57**

**Cassian**

As I guide the plane down onto the runway, the familiar rush of triumph surges through me. I toss my headset aside, the sound of the engines winding down still echoing in my ears.

Another successful operation. The thrill of slipping past the government authorities who should have caught me is intoxicating.

They never stand a chance. I’ve made sure to grease the palms of those who might have the wits to pursue me. As for the rest? Watching them scramble is a guilty pleasure.

Normally, the adrenaline rush and the satisfaction of outsmarting them would keep my mind occupied. But today is different.

Today, my thoughts are consumed by her.

It’s been days since I last heard from Gemma. Days that stretch into eternity, filled with an unsettling silence. I despise the fact that she’s been absent for so long, without a single word or sign of life.

…or perhaps she’s secretly reached out to one of the household staff to smuggle out that ridiculously expensive necklace to donate to charity.

11:35

The mere thought of it tugs at the corners of my mouth, coaxing a small smile. I can still picture that necklace, glimmering under the lights at the gala, the blue diamonds I had insisted my grandfather procure for her last birthday.

Naturally, I had to retrieve it. The money went to a good cause, after all.

I find myself eagerly anticipating the moment she returns home, her eyes widening in disbelief as she discovers it nestled once again in her jewelry drawer. Will she be furious?

Lately, I’ve caught myself mulling over questions like these, thoughts that never crossed my mind before. What does she think? How will she react to my gestures?

She never used to pique my curiosity in this way.

Stepping off the plane, I make my way toward my office in the warehouse, the familiar scent of machinery and metal greeting me like an old friend.

It feels like an eternity since I last laid eyes on Gemma, since that fleeting moment when I almost had her in the kitchen at the Pub. A dull ache settles in my chest, a constant reminder of her absence.

Or maybe it’s just the frustration of being so desperately in need of physical connection, I scold myself.

Perhaps any woman would suffice. It doesn’t necessarily have to be Gemma.

But whenever I picture myself with another woman, that desperate urge dissipates.

I crave her, and only her.

Clenching my jaw, I attempt to suppress these feelings. There are pressing matters awaiting my attention on my desk—reports, intelligence updates, proposals, and deals from rival mafia families.

Yet, as I settle into my chair, my focus eludes me. I find myself restless, my mind perpetually drifting back to her.

“Cassian?”

The sound of my name pulls me from my thoughts. I hadn’t even realized that someone had knocked three times before stepping through the door.

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