Page 32 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

"Everything's fine," she replied automatically. "I'm just..." Just what? Restless? Unsettled? Having difficulty concentratingfor the first time in her professional life? None of these were admissions she could make to her COO. "Reviewing our position."

"Well, if it helps, things are stable here. Not great, but stable. The team's executing the crisis plan effectively."

The news should have reassured her. Instead, it only underscored how unnecessary she was at this moment and how life continued in the empire she'd built, with or without her constant vigilance.

"Good," Serena said, the word tasting strange on her tongue. "Keep me updated on any major shifts."

"Will do. And Serena?" Ashley paused again. "Try to actually rest. That's the point of these places, isn't it?"

Before Serena could formulate a properly dismissive response, Ashley had ended the call. She stared at the phone in her hand, oddly unsettled by Ashley’s parting comment.

Rest. As if that were the solution to anything.

The word conjured Lila's voice in her mind: "The body keeps the score. It remembers what the mind dismisses."

Serena set the phone down with deliberate care, fighting the urge to throw it across the room. This emotional volatility was unlike her. She prided herself on consistency, on rational responses regardless of circumstance. Yet here she was, irritated by a perfectly reasonable suggestion from her COO and haunted by the words of a wellness coach she'd met exactly twenty-seven hours ago.

The villa suddenly felt too confined, the walls pressing in despite the open floor plan. She needed... what? What did Serena Frost, who had everything she'd ever worked for, possibly need?

Movement. Space. Air that didn't smell of sandalwood oil and subtle perfume.

She stalked to the bathroom, the one place in the villa that felt properly contained. The shower was yet another exercise in island indulgence, all natural stone and gleaming fixtures. She turned the rainfall shower to its highest setting, stripped efficiently, and stepped beneath the pounding water.

As steam filled the space, Serena closed her eyes and let her head fall forward. Water cascaded over her hair, down her shoulders, along the curve of her spine. The pressure felt good, though not as precise as Lila's touch had been.

There it was again—that thought, that comparison she shouldn't be making.

Serena reached for the shampoo, focusing on the mechanical routine of washing her hair. But even this familiar ritual felt different tonight. She found herself massaging her scalp the way Lila had worked her shoulders, with slow, deliberate pressure rather than her usual efficient scrubbing.

What was happening to her?

This island was wreaking havoc with her carefully ordered existence. The constant sound of waves, the unfamiliar scents, the way time seemed to stretch and contract without the anchoring rhythm of meetings and deadlines—all of it conspired to unravel her.

And Lila... Lila was the most disruptive element of all. With her gentle challenges and perceptive observations, she had somehow slipped past Serena's initial dismissal. There was substance beneath that serene exterior—intelligence, wisdom even—that demanded reluctant respect.

Worse, there was something about the way Lila looked at her that made Serena feel truly seen for the first time in years. Not as a CEO, not as a business icon—but as a woman. Just Serena.

The thought was so disconcerting that she turned off the water with a sharp twist, as if she could shut down her own mind as easily.

Serena stepped out, wrapping herself in a plush towel. Her reflection in the steamy mirror looked strangely unfamiliar—cheeks flushed, hair wild and ungoverned, eyes bright with some emotion she couldn't name.

She looked... alive. Not polished. Not perfect. Just alive.

The revelation was so unexpected that she turned away, completing her evening routine with deliberate precision. Teeth brushed for exactly two minutes. Face washed and moisturized in specific order. Hair combed and braided to prevent tangles.

Yet even as she moved through these familiar motions, something had changed. The massage had awakened nerve endings she'd forgotten she possessed. Her skin felt hypersensitive, aware in a way it hadn't been for years. She could feel the soft fabric of her sleep shirt against her shoulders, the cool tile beneath her feet, the lingering dampness at the nape of her neck.

Dressed in silk pajamas, Serena returned to the main room only to find her restlessness undiminished. The walls of the villa seemed to press in around her, the carefully curated luxury suddenly stifling. Her gaze kept being drawn to the curtained windows, beyond which lay the expanse of night sky and ocean she could sense rather than see.

She tried once more to focus on work, opening a strategic planning document she'd been developing before the Blackwood crisis. The familiar framework of SWOT analysis and market positioning should have centered her, returned her to her element.

Instead, the words swam before her eyes, refusing to resolve into meaning. Her fingers tapped against the table in an uneven rhythm that matched the waves outside. Her mind kept circling back to the memory of strong, gentle hands working the tension from her shoulders, to hazel-green eyes that saw too much, tothat unexpected moment on the beach when she'd found herself talking about Vivienne Blackwood without planning to.

Why had she done that? What was it about Lila Skye that had loosened her tongue along with her muscles?

"This is ridiculous," Serena muttered, closing the document with a decisive swipe.

She was Serena Frost, CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, the woman who had revolutionized cybersecurity and built an empire from nothing. She did not get distracted. She did not lose focus. And she certainly did not fixate on wellness coaches with perceptive eyes and unfairly talented hands.

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