Page 50 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

Lila took a deep breath, centering herself in the moment rather than fears or fantasies about what might come. "And if I say I want to explore it, too, despite the complications?"

Something sparked in Serena's eyes, a heat that made Lila's breath catch. "Then we do so with open eyes. No pretending this is something it can't be, but no artificial limitations on what it might be within the time we have."

The proposition hung between them, both terrifying and tempting in its honesty. Eleven days to explore whatever existed between them, with a clear expiration date and no false promises.

"My next client will be here in five minutes," Lila said softly, aware of time continuing outside their bubble of possibility.

Serena nodded, already shifting to stand up. "You need time to think. I understand."

"Not exactly." Lila stood as well, their bodies close in the intimate space. "I need time to do my job. But afterward... perhaps we could continue this conversation over dinner? Somewhere private."

The invitation hung between them, Lila's heart beating a rapid rhythm as she waited for Serena's response.

A smile spread across Serena's face—not her usual controlled curve of lips, but something warmer, more genuine. It transformed her features, creating glimpses of the woman beneath the CEO's polished exterior.

"I'd like that," she said simply.

"My cottage, seven o'clock?" Lila suggested, professional enough to know they needed privacy for whatever came next—both from her colleagues' watchful eyes and the resort guests' potential gossip.

"I'll be there." Serena moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold. "Thank you for your honesty, Lila. It's... refreshing."

After she departed, Lila stood motionless in the center of the meditation room, candles flickering around her as her mind raced with possibilities and warnings in equal measure. She'd just invited Serena to her private space, effectively agreeing to explore whatever existed between them despite all the rational reasons not to.

Marcus would call it reckless. Her professional ethics textbooks would call it boundary-crossing. Her still-healing heart might call it dangerous.

But as she lit the remaining candles for her upcoming session, Lila couldn't help thinking it was something else entirely: honest. Whatever happened next—pleasure or pain, connection or heartbreak—at least they were approaching it with eyes wide open, acknowledging the reality rather than hiding behind convenient fictions.

Eleven days.

Not long enough to build anything lasting, perhaps. But maybe just enough time to experience something real, if only for a moment outside ordinary time.

By six-thirty, Lila's cottage had been transformed. She'd spent the hour after her final session in a flurry of activity: sweeping sand from the bamboo floors, arranging fresh-cut island flowers in simple ceramic vases, and setting out candles that filled the space with the subtle scent of coconut and vanilla.

The small dining table now held her best dishes—handmade pottery from a local artisan rather than the resort's standard white china. She'd spread her favorite tablecloth, a vibrant blue batik she'd bought from a village market on Vanuatu. In thecenter sat a bottle of wine she'd been saving for a special occasion, chilling in a makeshift ice bucket.

Lila stood back, surveying her handiwork with a critical eye. Too much? Not enough? Where was the line between thoughtful and trying too hard?

"It's dinner, not a marriage proposal," she muttered to herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Still, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Perhaps because she couldn't remember the last time she'd invited someone into her private space who mattered quite this much.

She moved to her bedroom, eyeing the clothes she'd laid out on the bed: three different options ranging from casual to slightly dressy. After her last client, she'd showered and wrapped herself in her favorite robe, hair still damp around her shoulders as she tried to decide what message she wanted her appearance to send.

Too casual might suggest she wasn't taking this seriously; too formal might create unnecessary pressure. Like the dinner preparations, her clothing choice felt freighted with significance beyond simple fabric and fit.

Her phone chimed from the nightstand—a text from Marcus.

You okay? Haven't seen you since this morning.

Lila hesitated, thumbs hovering over the screen. Marcus would have opinions about her dinner with Serena—strong opinions based on legitimate concerns. Did she want to invite that perspective right now, when her mind was already a battlefield of competing hopes and warnings?

All good,she typed finally.Quiet night in. Talk tomorrow.

Not quite a lie, not quite the truth. The omission sat uncomfortably, but she wasn't ready to defend her choices when she wasn't entirely sure of them herself.

She tossed the phone aside and reached for the simplest option—a flowing sundress in sea-green that complemented her eyes and skin tone. Casual enough to suggest ease, lovely enough to show she'd made an effort. The compromise felt right.

As she dressed, Lila caught herself humming a quiet melody that spoke of her nervous excitement despite all the rational warnings circling in her mind. When had she last felt this alive or this present in her own skin? The realization was both thrilling and sobering. If Serena affected her this deeply after only a few days, what might eleven days of genuine connection do?

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