World Domination Begins With Getting a System in a Modern World-Chapter 140: The Former Dinner & Wine Pairing

James pulled into the driveway of the mansion, the Maybach gliding to a smooth stop as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

He felt the exhaustion in his bones — not from physical exertion, but from the delicate dance of social interaction he had just performed.

The luncheon had been intense, and him avigating the soft battlefield of polite smiles, hidden agendas, and subtle power dynamics took more out of him than anything he has ever done in his life.

It was even more draining than his night part-time job at the club.

As he stepped inside the house, the familiar scent of lavender and citrus met him. He caught sight of Leslie and Patty in the living area. Both women looked up the moment they heard the door open.

Leslie was the first to react.

"Hey! You’re back!" Her voice was gentle but laced with curiosity.

Patty’s eyes lit up with a smile when she saw him.

"How was it, sweetheart? Did you—?"

But she stopped mid-question, noticing the weight behind James’ eyes. She saw that his movements were slower, his shoulders looks burdened.

James gave a tired but warm smile.

"Later," he said simply. "I need a little rest."

That was all they needed to hear. Patty nodded with understanding while Leslie watched him with concern, saying nothing more.

He gave them both a thankful glance before heading upstairs. The moment his room door clicked shut behind him, James peeled off his blazer, tossed it on the armchair, and collapsed onto the bed.

His eyes shut almost instantly.

Downstairs, Leslie and Patty exchanged glances.

"He looks drained," Leslie whispered.

Patty sipped her tea, thoughtful.

"It must have been overwhelming."

"You think something happened?" Leslie asked, her voice lower now.

"I think... a lot happened," Patty replied softly.

"Those types of luncheons aren’t just about food. That’s where people measure you without saying a word."

Leslie leaned back against the couch, with a frown.

"I hope they didn’t treat him like an outsider."

Patty reached over and gently squeezed her daughter’s hand.

"He’ll be fine. You saw him — he made it through. Now he just needs rest."

***

Two hours later, the soft buzz of James’ phone pulled him from his sleep. He reached for it blindly, eyes blinking against the ambient light.

5:18 PM.

Dinner starts by 6:00.

James let out a soft groan, sat up, and rubbed a hand across his face. The nap had done wonders. His body felt lighter, his mind feels clearer now.

With no time to waste, he slipped out of bed, headed straight to the bathroom, and took a quick shower.

The hot water revived him fully, washing away the emotional and social drain of the afternoon.

After drying off, he walked into his closet and began dressing for the evening.

Tonight wasn’t just another dinner — it was the Formal Dinner & Wine Pairing Night. The tone would be different. Sharper and more exclusive. It wasn’t just about proximity now. It was about making impressions that stuck.

He slipped into his midnight navy Brioni suit, its sleek lines hugging his frame perfectly. The crisp white shirt felt cool against his skin, the tie knotted with practiced ease.

He adjusted the cuffs, letting the silver cufflinks catch the light, then placed the burgundy pocket square precisely in place.

Once everything was set, he reached for the Patek Philippe watch and secured it on his wrist.

He finished the look with a light spray of his Roja cologne, took one last glance in the mirror, and grabbed the key fob for the Mercedes-Maybach.

When he came downstairs, he saw Leslie and Patty in the kitchen preparing dinner. The warm aroma of roasted vegetables and something buttery floated in the air.

Patty looked up. "Going out again?"

"Formal dinner at the club," James replied.

Leslie walked out of the kitchen and looked at him fully. Her lips parted slightly.

"Wow... you look..." She stopped, then smiled. "Powerful."

James chuckled, kissed Patty on the cheek, and gave Leslie’s hand a quick squeeze.

"I won’t be long. Save me a plate."

"You got it," Patty smiled.

He left the house, stepped into the Maybach, and the engine purred quietly to life.

***

The drive to the Bel-Air Country Club took less than ten minutes, but it was long enough for James to steel himself mentally.

According to what Elliot told him, unlike the luncheon, tonight would be busier. The wine events were a favorite among members — especially those who loved the appearance of refined indulgence.

As he neared the gates, he noticed immediately — the driveway was packed and luxury cars lined the road like a parade: Bentleys, McLarens, Aston Martins. All meticulously parked by uniformed valets.

The moment the Maybach rolled to a stop, two valets stepped forward and James handed off the key fob, and smoothed down his blazer.

He walked toward the entrance of the West Ballroom.

Everything about the exterior was grand: golden sconces, tall doors framed by elegant pillars, and faint classical music playing from somewhere within.

But just as he stepped into the venue, letting the warm glow of chandeliers wash over him, his eyes met someone else’s across the room.

And everything stopped.

It was her.

The woman from Rodeo Drive. The same woman Leslie had slapped hours ago.

She stood near the grand wine bar, her emerald gown shimmering under the lights, her face painted with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

She was laughing at something someone said, her posture relaxed — until her gaze locked onto James.

For a brief second, neither of them moved.

Recognition dawned in her eyes... followed by venomous sneer.

James kept his expression neutral, but inside, he felt the tension coil in his gut.

Of all the people...

The woman’s lips curved into a sharp smirk, and she slowly turned away, whispering something to a man beside her, before tossing James a dismissive glance over her shoulder.

James exhaled through his nose, calm and composed. This wasn’t Rodeo Drive anymore. This was her world. And now they were both playing on the same field. And he’s very certain that she will play dirty.

James straightened his jacket and made his way deeper into the room, past rows of tables draped in white, past the waiters offering small hors d’oeuvres and glasses of wine from silver trays.

He wasn’t here to start drama. But if she brought it to him? He wouldn’t back down. He’s not a pushover and will never become one.