His 181St Second (Laverne and Marina) novel Chapter 76

**Winds Carry Lost Promises by Asa Holt**

**Chapter 76**

Daron’s demeanor remained unyielding, his face an impenetrable mask as he focused intently on the stack of paperwork before him. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent testament to the unspoken words swirling around them.

“If you’ve got nothing worthwhile to say, then you might as well leave,” he uttered, his voice as frigid as the winter winds outside.

Garret, however, merely let out a soft “Oh,” and turned to exit the office. But rather than hurrying away, he lingered at the door, glancing at his watch as if timing the moment for dramatic effect.

After a brief pause, the office door swung open, revealing the interior once more. Garret, with his arms crossed and a casual lean against the wall, wore a playful smirk that seemed to challenge the somber atmosphere.

“Hey, Daron, what brings you out here? Ms. Finley’s already taken her leave,” he teased, his tone light and mocking.

Daron shot him a glacial glare, his expression as unyielding as granite. Without shifting his gaze from the paperwork, he addressed the secretary in the nearby cubicle, his voice cool and commanding.

“Fetch me a coffee. The internal line is acting up; I need tech over here,” he instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

“Yes, Mr. Zamora,” the secretary replied softly, rising from her seat and making her way to the break room.

Garret arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment. “Ms. Finley probably hasn’t gone far. Want me to chase her down for you?” he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Daron turned his cold gaze on him, his eyes betraying nothing but indifference.

“If you’ve got nothing better to occupy your time, I’ll gladly send you to manage the project in Velmora City,” he retorted, his tone as sharp as a knife.

Garret’s expression shifted from amusement to a fawning grin, the humor evaporating in an instant. “Just kidding, of course!” he exclaimed hurriedly.

Daron didn’t waste another glance on him, choosing instead to retreat back into the confines of his office, the door clicking shut behind him.

It wasn’t long before the technician arrived, a youthful man with a clipboard in hand. He approached Daron’s desk, examining the internal phone with a furrowed brow, but found nothing amiss.

“Mr. Zamora…” the technician began to report, but before he could finish his sentence, Daron waved him off dismissively. The technician, taking the hint, quickly exited the office, leaving Daron in solitude once more.

Alone now, Daron’s gaze drifted down to his phone, the dark depths of his eyes revealing nothing of the thoughts swirling within. He picked it up, contemplated it for a moment, then set it back down, his attention drawn to the proposal that Marina had left on his desk.

With a quick call, he summoned the manager responsible for the Sicester project. The man entered, confusion etched across his features as Daron handed him the file.

“Take a look at this proposal. What do you think?” Daron asked, his voice devoid of warmth.

The manager accepted the file with both hands, his curiosity piqued. After what felt like an eternity of scrutinizing the document, he finally lifted his gaze to meet Daron’s, respect shining in his eyes.

“Mr. Zamora, this proposal is exceptionally well-crafted, and the planning is quite impressive. Did you write this yourself? You must have put in a considerable amount of effort,” he inquired, his admiration evident.

Daron’s response was curt and cool. “No.”

The manager, ever the smooth operator, quickly deduced that Daron’s interest in the proposal indicated high regard for its author. Even without knowing who had penned it, he understood that a little flattery could go a long way.

“Honestly, Mr. Zamora, I can’t imagine anyone but you coming up with something like this. Was it Garret?” he ventured cautiously.

“No,” Daron replied, raising his hand, signaling for the manager to cease his speculation. The manager promptly returned the file, both hands still gripping it tightly.

The manager’s curiosity was palpable, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Then who was it?”

Daron’s eyes flickered with a hint of something deeper. “A… partner. They’ve extended an olive branch.”

The manager’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Not someone from the Zamora Group?” he blurted out, hardly able to process the implications.

Daron tucked the file away, his tone steady and cool. “They will be, soon enough.”

The manager hesitated, caught between the urge to probe further and the instinct to tread carefully. If Daron was already referring to this individual as a “partner,” it was clear they held significant value in his eyes.

“Congratulations, Mr. Zamora. It seems you’ve secured another star player,” the manager said with a grin, trying to gauge Daron’s reaction.

Daron’s expression remained inscrutable, his face a mask of neutrality.

“It’s unfortunate that this talent won’t be around for long. I won’t be able to keep them for myself,” he remarked, his voice cool but tinged with an undercurrent of regret.

The manager caught the hint of sorrow in Daron’s tone, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He wanted to voice his thoughts, but the words lodged in his throat. After all, someone Daron valued so highly before they’d even officially joined was not someone he wished to offend.

So, he plastered on a polite smile, opting for safe, courteous words.

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