His 181St Second (Laverne and Marina) novel Chapter 36

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

**Chapter 36**

Lavern was clearly putting on a show, trying to assert his authority in front of the gathering crowd.

In the past, Marina would have played along, ensuring he saved face among their peers. But that was before the betrayal, before he allowed his heart to stray into uncharted territory.

The sight of him grimacing as the wine settled uncomfortably in his stomach stirred a familiar sense of pity within her. She used to fuss over him, tending to his every need with tender affection, but now… she thought bitterly, ‘Does he really believe he deserves that kind of care? What a delusion.’

With a sideways glance, she assessed him but remained firmly in her seat, unwilling to give in to the old patterns.

Just then, a waiter glided over, presenting Lavern with a steaming bowl of soup, the aroma wafting through the air.

Lavern inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling slightly as he fought to mask his irritation under the knowing gazes of the men around him.

Today was pivotal; these individuals were the crème de la crème of Ross Group’s clientele and partners. He couldn’t allow Marina’s petty mood to unravel his composure in front of such important figures.

As the dinner progressed, Lavern’s spirits began to rise, fueled by the alcohol coursing through his veins.

In a moment of boldness, he boasted to Daron about the promising future of Ross Group, declaring that anyone who passed up a partnership with them would be making a monumental mistake.

The alcohol only amplified his brashness, turning it up to an obnoxious level.

Daron, on the other hand, had indulged in his fair share of drinks but remained the picture of composure, exuding an effortless coolness that made it impossible to gauge just how much he had consumed.

Marina couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between them.

Suddenly, her thoughts drifted to her stern, no-nonsense grandfather, who had once praised Daron as the most level-headed young man of his generation.

He had even confessed that, in his own prime, he may not have matched Daron’s calm demeanor.

Although Marina had never met him formally, she had heard countless glowing reviews about Daron, painting him as an ideal partner.

The thought of being involved with someone like him, or even just entangled in his orbit, filled her with an overwhelming sense of pressure.

She had never understood why she ended up engaged to the Zamora family instead of Elnora, who seemed like the perfect match for Daron.

Elnora had been groomed as the family heir, just like him—an unstoppable force—and they shared a history as old classmates, their compatibility far exceeding her own.

As Marina wrestled with her thoughts, she felt a familiar arm drape around her shoulders.

“Marina,” Lavern slurred, leaning in closer, his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol. “I’m completely hammered. Let’s call it a night, yeah? Time to head home.”

She instinctively raised her hand to push him away, but the collective gaze of their companions held her back. Reluctantly, she lowered her hand, choosing discretion over confrontation.

With a significant meeting looming just eight days away, she couldn’t afford to reveal any weakness, especially not to Lavern.

Yesenia, ever the perceptive one, recognized the tension brewing between Lavern and Marina. Woman to woman, she sensed the bottled-up frustration simmering in Marina’s eyes.

At the opportune moment, Yesenia stood to conclude the evening. “What a privilege it has been to share this meal with all of you tonight. A special thanks to Mr. Zamora for fitting us into his busy schedule.”

She continued, her voice warm yet authoritative, “Getting our project back on track so seamlessly? That’s all thanks to you, Mr. Zamora. I see this collaboration as just the beginning; I envision many more opportunities ahead. Cheers to you, and to everyone present.”

The group raised their glasses in unison, Daron included, each face reflecting a mixture of respect and camaraderie.

Lavern, however, slouched in his chair, his right arm draped lazily over the back of Marina’s seat, radiating a sense of careless arrogance. “Ms. Ray, the one you should really be thanking is me, don’t you think?”

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