Page 36 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

The footsteps drew closer—light but purposeful, approaching from the garden path she'd traveled earlier. Serena calculated her options. She looked over and saw her clothes folded by the pool's edge, too distant to reach without exposing herself. The nearest exit point would place her directly in the newcomer's line of sight.

She moved deeper into the shadows at the far end of the pool, where the underwater lighting was dimmest. There, she waited, body submerged to her shoulders, years of crisis management translating into physical stillness.

The footsteps stopped at the pool's edge. Through the darkness, Serena could make out a silhouette: distinctly feminine, slender, haloed by moonlight catching on loose hair. Something in the posture, the way weight shifted slightly to one hip, was immediately familiar.

"I didn't expect anyone else to be here at this hour," came a voice she recognized instantly.

Lila.

Of all the people who might have discovered her midnight swim, why did it have to be the one person who already occupied too much of her mental space?

Serena could retreat further into the shadows and avoid conversation altogether. It would be the prudent choice, the one that maintained professional distance and personal dignity. The Serena who ran Frost Innovations would certainly choose that option.

But something in Lila's voice—genuine surprise without judgment—triggered a different response.

"Neither did I," Serena replied, her voice carrying across the water with unexpected clarity.

Lila stepped closer to the pool's edge, moonlight now fully illuminating her face. She wore a simple flowing dress, her hair loose around her shoulders, clearly having come from some personal errand rather than professional duty.

"I'm sorry to intrude," she said. "I can leave you to your privacy."

She began to turn away, the consideration in the gesture somehow making Serena's next words spill out before she could analyze them.

"Stay."

The invitation surprised them both. Lila paused, half-turned back toward the pool, uncertainty written in her posture.

"Are you sure?"

No, Serena wasn't sure at all. Yet something about this night, this pool, this moment outside normal time made her nod.

"Yes."

And just like that, boundaries shifted again, controlled and uncontrolled merging under moonlight.

"May I?" Lila gestured to the edge of the pool, a simple request seeking permission to enter Serena's momentary sanctuary.

Serena nodded, suddenly hyperaware of her nakedness beneath the water. The confidence she'd felt during her solitary swim wavered under Lila's presence, yet something stronger than discomfort kept her in place. Curiosity, perhaps. Or something less easily named.

Lila settled at the pool's edge, slipping off her sandals to dangle her feet in the water. The moonlight caught the angles of her face, softening them while highlighting the gentle curve of her cheek and the line of her throat as she tilted her head back to look at the stars.

"I come here sometimes after my evening meditation," she said, her voice low and melodic in the night air. "It's peaceful when everyone else is asleep."

"Is that what you were doing?" Serena asked, keeping her distance at the far side of the pool. "Meditation?"

Lila smiled, the expression visible even in the dim light. "Actually, I was helping Maika with night-blooming jasmine. We use it in the morning oil blends." She glanced toward Serena, eyes reflecting the pool's soft glow. "He mentioned meeting a night wanderer in the gardens earlier."

So the gardenerhadrecognized her. Of course he had. Serena felt a flash of annoyance at the thought of becoming a topic of staff conversation.

"Does everyone on this island report to everyone else?" The question came out sharper than she'd intended.

"No," Lila replied, unruffled by her tone. "But it's a small community. We look out for each other and for guests. Especially those exploring after hours."

The gentle correction made Serena reconsider her assumption. Perhaps the exchange hadn't been gossip but genuine concern.

"I couldn't sleep," she offered, a small concession toward explanation.

"The island has that effect sometimes. It disrupts patterns."

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