His 181St Second (Laverne and Marina) novel Chapter 3

**Winds Carry Lost Promises by Asa Holt Vale**

“No,” Marina replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but firm. In her mind, a storm of thoughts swirled. Just one slap! How could that possibly make me feel any better? The idea felt absurd, like trying to extinguish a raging fire with a mere drop of water.

Lavern, unfazed, took the very hand she had just slapped him with and gently brushed a soft kiss across her palm, his lips lingering for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Did that hurt?” he asked, his tone light, almost teasing. “Once we’re home, I’ll explain everything properly, alright? There’s no need to get worked up over someone who doesn’t matter.”

Marina dropped her gaze, a flicker of sorrow crossing her eyes like a shadow passing over the sun. This must be that age-old guy thing, she mused. Unless you catch them red-handed, they’ll never admit they’re wrong.

“Someone who doesn’t matter? You mean Ms. Thornton?” Marina tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized Shawna’s face, searching for any hint of defiance.

Shawna stood there, her complexion as pale as a sheet, rigid and unmoving like a mannequin. All the earlier confidence that had radiated from her when she first strutted into the shop was now completely extinguished.

“Yes,” Lavern replied, his answer landing like a stone, firm and without a hint of wavering.

Shawna blanched even further, her lips pressing into a thin line, as if she were trying to hold back a flood of emotions.

As they stepped out of the bridal shop, Marina marched straight toward her car, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger and confusion.

“Ride with me,” Lavern insisted, his grip suddenly tightening as he pulled her close with unyielding force. “I’ll drive you home.”

She struggled to break free, but his grip was ironclad; no matter how much she twisted and turned, she couldn’t shake him off. Instead, she found herself being hauled over to his car, feeling as if she were being dragged along against her will.

Lavern opened the passenger door, and there, resting innocently on the sleek gray-and-black seat, was a pink-and-white hair clip.

He reached in without a hint of urgency, picking it up as if it were the most mundane object in the world.

Marina let out a scoff, her irritation bubbling over. “Might want to give it a once-over, check for any other personal goodies hidden away? If I stumble on some underwear in there, I’ll need therapy for my eyes.”

Lavern, who had been maintaining a calm facade until now, suddenly erupted like a cat whose tail had been yanked. “Marina, why does your mind always dive straight into the dirt? I love you, but I won’t put up with this. What happened today is a one-off, and it better stay that way. Ross Group is right on the verge of breaking through to the next level, and I can’t avoid having female colleagues or partners in the mix.”

“You embarrassed Shawna today,” he continued, his voice rising. “I’m overlooking it because she’s just entry-level. But if you pull the same stunt on some influential woman down the line, going all impulsive like that, how’s Ross Group supposed to keep growing?”

Marina held his stare, her bright, clear eyes now frosted over with a chill that matched her rising anger. It was dawning on her just how masterful Lavern was at gaslighting, twisting her feelings into knots.

She didn’t argue or hop into his car. Instead, with a swift motion, she turned on her heel and slid back into her own vehicle, the engine roaring to life as she sped off, leaving him behind.

With people milling about outside the bridal shop, Lavern didn’t bother chasing after her to save face. He jerked his door open, scowling like a storm cloud gathering overhead. As he leaned in to take his seat, he caught sight of Shawna emerging from the shop, her pretty face drained of color, a ghost of her former self.

He paused for a moment, then waved her over, his voice clipped. “Get in.”

Meanwhile, Marina frowned at the sleek black luxury car ahead of her, its back bumper dented in, a license plate that was just a string of “8’s” staring back at her.

She had spaced out for just a moment and rear-ended it. Full blame on her; she’d have to pay for letting her mind wander into the abyss.

With a mix of trepidation and regret, she swung her door open, stepping out to apologize to the driver climbing out of the other vehicle. “Sorry, I…”

The other driver gave her a quick once-over, his expression unreadable, and instead of responding, he respectfully swung open the rear door.

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