Page 27 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

The name still carried a sting, though dulled by time and healing. "This is different. It's professional."

"Uh-huh." Marcus's skepticism was palpable. "Professional admiration making you blush right now?"

Lila touched her cheeks, annoyed to find them warming under his scrutiny. "It's hot out. And you're reading way too much into this."

"I'm just saying, you have a type. Brilliant, complicated women who need fixing."

"I don't try to fix people," Lila protested, though the observation hit uncomfortably close to home. "I create space for them to heal themselves."

"Noble distinction." Marcus slid off his stool and approached, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just remember that some people don't want to heal. They've built their entire identity around their wounds."

Lila sighed. "You're such a downer sometimes."

"Realist," he corrected with a grin. "Someone needs to balance out your eternal optimism."

Their conversation paused as Maika, the resort's head gardener, entered carrying a basket of fresh herbs. The older Fijian man nodded in greeting.

"Morning sessions going well?" he asked, his weathered face creasing into a smile. "I saw you on Whisper Cove earlier. The new guest seems... intense."

"That's one word for her," Marcus muttered.

"She's making an effort," Lila said firmly. "Which is more than many guests do their first day."

Maika chuckled, sorting his herbs with practiced hands. "The tightest-wound ones often have the most spectacular unraveling."

"See?" Lila gestured triumphantly at Maika. "He gets it."

"He's known you longer than I have," Marcus conceded. "And he’s watched you work minor miracles with the supposedly unreachable."

"Speaking of unreachable"—Lila glanced at the clock on the wall—"I need to check on Mr. Peterson. He canceled his morning hike, which isn't like him."

"Duty calls." Marcus handed her a fresh slice of mango for the road. "Dinner at the staff beach tonight? I want all the details your professional ethics allow you to share."

"Maybe." Lila gathered her things, suddenly eager to redirect the conversation away from her reaction to Serena. "Depends on my schedule."

As she headed toward the door, Marcus called after her, "Just remember, ice queens can give frostbite if you get too close!"

Lila waved him off without turning, but his words followed her down the path. The truth was, something about Serena Frost had gotten under her skin in a way that felt distinctly unprofessional. That tiny moment of vulnerability during the massage—the unexpected sigh, the softening around her eyes—had awakened something in Lila that she'd carefully kept dormant since Sophie.

The realization was uncomfortable enough that she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the practical aspects of her job. A quick check-in with Mr. Peterson (mild sunburn, nothing serious), paperwork for tomorrow's new arrivals, and a staff meeting about the upcoming full moon celebration would fill her afternoon with welcome distraction.

But as she moved through her tasks, her mind kept drifting back to that moment on the beach. The weight of Serena's unexpected confession about Vivienne Blackwood. The way her perfect mask had slipped, just for a heartbeat, revealing something raw and wounded beneath.

By late afternoon, Lila had completed her duties and found herself drawn to the quiet of her office in the wellness center. The small space overlooked a garden of native plants, their vibrant colors intensified by the golden light of approaching sunset. She settled at her desk, opening Serena's file with the intention of updating her notes from their morning sessions.

Her pen hovered over the blank page. How to capture what had transpired in clinical terms? The notes were meant to track progress, highlight concerns, and shape future sessions. Yet the simple facts—"Client participated in yoga and massage, showed physical relief, briefly mentioned professional conflict"—failed to capture the subtle shifts she'd witnessed.

A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. Lila looked up to find Elara Silver standing in the doorway, elegant as always in flowing linen pants and a simple tunic, her silver pendant catching the late afternoon light.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Elara said, though her presence in the doorway suggested she expected admittance regardless.

"Not at all." Lila set down her pen, gesturing to the chair across from her desk. "Just updating client notes."

Elara entered with her characteristic graceful authority, settling into the offered seat. Though technically the resort owner, she moved through Solara with the ease of someone who considered herself more steward than ruler.

"I understand Ms. Frost attended both yoga and massage this morning," she said, getting straight to the point. "An unexpected development, given her initial resistance."

Lila smiled. "News travels fast."

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