His 181St Second (Laverne and Marina) novel Chapter 44

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

Marina pivoted on her heel, her heart skipping a beat as she spotted Daron emerging from the shadows. The soft, inviting glow of the porch light cascaded over his shoulders, casting a warm halo around him. He was nonchalantly fiddling with her phone, exuding an undeniable air of authority that sent a shiver down her spine. There was something both magnetic and intimidating about him, a combination that was difficult to articulate.

Lavern, lingering at the doorway, retracted his hand as if it had been burned. He observed helplessly, a flicker of unease dancing at the edges of his vision, as Marina approached Daron.

“Thanks, Mr. Zamora,” Marina offered, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to reclaim her phone from Daron’s grasp.

Daron glanced down at her, his expression inscrutable, yet his calm demeanor held an underlying intensity. “Need a hand?” he inquired, his tone casual but layered with something deeper.

Marina shook her head, a faint smile gracing her lips. “No, thank you.”

Yet, as she attempted to take her phone, Daron’s grip tightened slightly, an imperceptible shift that sent a ripple of confusion through her.

She met his gaze, her brow furrowing as she caught a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, a spark that puzzled her.

“Um, Mr. Zamora…” she began, her voice trailing off as she felt the weight of the moment.

The phone remained stubbornly in his hand, a silent standoff that left her feeling unsettled.

After what felt like an eternity, Daron’s expression softened, and he relaxed his hold, allowing her to take the phone.

From the doorway, Lavern watched the charged interaction unfold, his face a mask of grim determination. He stepped forward, wrapping his arm around Marina’s shoulders in a gesture that was meant to assert his presence.

“Thanks for bringing Marina’s phone back, Mr. Zamora. I’ve spoiled her; she’s always misplacing things. I hope she didn’t give you too much trouble,” Lavern said, his voice laced with forced cheerfulness.

Daron responded with a cool detachment. “Trouble or not, it’s done. Not much to say.”

Lavern hadn’t anticipated Daron’s bluntness; it caught him off guard, his smile faltering for the briefest moment as he tightened his grip on Marina’s shoulder, a silent warning.

Marina shot him a frosty look, her voice sharp as ice. “You’re hurting me.”

Lavern froze, the realization hitting him like a cold wave. He reluctantly loosened his hold, guilt flickering across his features.

Marina gently removed his hand, turning to Daron with a newfound resolve. “Let me walk you out,” she stated, her tone cool and composed.

Daron’s lips curled into a faint smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. “What, you worried I can’t handle walking in the dark?”

Marina felt a mix of irritation and determination well up inside her. She was merely trying to be courteous, yet he was twisting her intentions into something else entirely.

“I’m not worried,” she replied, pressing her lips together to suppress her frustration. “Then I won’t walk you out.”

Daron nodded, his expression unreadable. “Alright.”

Despite his agreement, he made no move to leave, standing there like a stone statue, impervious to the tension thickening the air around them.

Realizing he wasn’t going anywhere, Marina took a step toward the door, her mind racing.

Lavern, still lingering nearby, wore a grim expression, but he forced a polite mask over his discomfort. “Mr. Zamora, we won’t walk you out. Have a good night,” he said, attempting to maintain an air of civility.

He turned to follow Marina, but Daron’s voice cut through the night like a knife. “Mr. Ross, your car’s blocking mine. Could you move it?”

Lavern’s heart sank as he fished out his phone, ready to call Robert. But then he remembered he had been drinking and had used a driver service that evening.

With a resigned sigh, Lavern lowered his phone. “Alright.”

At that moment, Marina opened the iron gate, stepping inside with a decisive click as she locked it behind her, a barrier between them and the tension that had been building.

Lavern followed Daron out of the alley, maintaining a careful distance, each step echoing with the weight of unspoken words.

As they walked, Daron kept that distance, his silence a clear message that he had no interest in conversing with Lavern.

Lavern clenched his jaw, feeling the contempt radiating from Daron, a palpable force that pressed against his chest.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and quickened his pace to catch up. “Mr. Zamora, I’ve always wanted to know. What do you really think of Ross Group?”

Daron’s response was immediate and unfiltered. “It’s like the springboard for an athlete.”

His expression remained calm, those deep-set eyes nearly swallowed by the shadows, the moonlight casting a faint glow that hinted at the emotions beneath the surface.

“It matters,” Daron added, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

Lavern felt a slight loosening of his nerves, a flicker of hope igniting within him.

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