His 181St Second (Laverne and Marina) novel Chapter 61

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

**Chapter 61**

Marina found herself captivated by the depths of Daron’s eyes, searching for something—an emotion, a hint of vulnerability—but he simply closed them, shutting her out.

Feeling a wave of disappointment wash over her, she diverted her gaze, the flicker of hope extinguished.

Moments later, Daron, still seated and seemingly lost in thought, murmured her name softly.

“Marina… pay the bill.”

His voice was low and smooth, laced with a complexity of emotions that made her heart skip a beat.

There was something undeniably alluring about the way he spoke, especially with that hint of alcohol lingering in his tone; it was infuriatingly sexy.

“Okay,” Marina replied quickly, her fingers instinctively reaching for the service button.

The waiter appeared almost instantly, the payment terminal in hand.

Marina grabbed her phone, prepared to settle the bill.

It was just a meal, after all—something she could easily afford.

And considering all the favors Daron had done for her lately, treating him to dinner felt like the least she could do.

As she handed her phone to the waiter, ready for him to scan the payment code, a slender, warm hand suddenly covered her screen.

Marina looked at Daron, confusion knitting her brow.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to understand the sudden halt.

His gaze was serious, almost somber. “The Finley family is on the verge of bankruptcy. You should save your money.”

His words struck her like a blow, sharp and painful.

What had seemed like a simple meal and a bottle of wine suddenly felt extravagant and burdensome.

She felt a rush of embarrassment, her cheeks warming as she sheepishly pulled her phone back and gestured for him to take over.

“So… you’re paying?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light despite the weight of the moment.

Daron observed her with a hint of amusement, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he handed her his phone.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice carrying a teasing lilt.

Marina took the phone, feeling slightly lost. With the waiter still patiently waiting, she steeled herself, swiped to unlock the screen, and asked, “What’s the password?”

“775260,” he answered, his eyes focused intently on her.

She entered the digits, her concentration unwavering.

Daron’s gaze followed her fingers as they danced across the screen, a storm brewing in his expression, revealing layers of unspoken thoughts.

As she navigated through his minimalist phone, she quickly located the payment app, but when she attempted to access the payment code, another password prompt appeared.

Glancing up, she found Daron watching her, his eyes deep and unreadable, as if they held secrets she longed to uncover.

“Here, you do the password,” Marina suggested, her voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, Daron recited it aloud.

“770457.”

Marina entered it, and when she looked up, she caught a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, though she couldn’t decipher why.

Shrugging it off, she handed the code to the waiter, ready to move on.

Time was slipping away; they needed to head to the airport soon.

Once Garret finished his business, he came to pick them up.

Marina hurried after Daron, her heart racing with anticipation.

Daron leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, as if he were trying to catch some much-needed sleep. When they arrived at the airport, she assumed he was still lost in slumber. But as the car came to a stop, his eyes fluttered open, revealing a hint of bloodshot irritation, remnants of his earlier buzz still evident.

Garret escorted them into the bustling airport but had to remain in Sicester for an urgent matter. Before departing, he entrusted them with the briefcase, a weighty responsibility.

Marina noticed Daron massaging his temples, a deep frown etched across his face, clearly uncomfortable.

Without needing to be asked, she instinctively took the briefcase from Garret, feeling the weight of it as a silent commitment.

Daron looked down at her, his expression inscrutable, a mix of gratitude and something else that she couldn’t quite place.

“Relax, Mr. Zamora. I’m not about to snoop through your stuff or swipe any business secrets,” she reassured him, trying to lighten the mood.

Daron smirked, a playful glint in his eye. “You don’t have the guts.”

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