Page 73 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

"Are you hungry?" Serena asked, pulling out a chair for Lila, a gesture she'd received countless times but rarely performed herself.

"Starving," Lila admitted, settling into the offered seat.

As Serena poured wine—a local vintage the sommelier had insisted paired perfectly with the island cuisine—she felt a peculiar sense of role reversal. In her normal life, she was always the one being served, being catered to. There was unexpected pleasure in being the one to give attention rather than command it.

"To unexpected discoveries," she said, raising her glass.

Lila's smile deepened, creating those small crinkles around her eyes that Serena had come to find ridiculously endearing. "The best kind."

The meal unfolded with surprising ease. Conversation flowed naturally as they sampled local delicacies—freshly caught fish prepared with island herbs, tropical fruits in combinations Serena had never experienced, flavors both unfamiliar and instantly appealing.

Somewhere between the main course and dessert, Serena realized she was talking about her childhood, a subject she normally avoided with scrupulous care.

"...so there I was, this scrawny twelve-year-old surrounded by circuit boards, trying to explain to my father why I'd dismantled his brand-new computer," she found herself saying,the memory surfacing with unexpected clarity. "He was furious until I showed him how I'd doubled its processing speed."

Lila leaned forward, genuinely interested in a way that felt different from the calculated networking attention Serena usually received. "What did he say?"

"He said, 'Next time, ask first.'" Serena smiled at the memory. "Then he bought me my own computer to take apart."

"That sounds like encouragement," Lila observed.

"His version of it, yes." Serena swirled the wine in her glass, watching as it caught the candlelight. "My parents weren't demonstrative, but they recognized aptitude and rewarded results."

"And now you've built an empire based on those skills," Lila said softly. "That little girl with the circuit boards would be proud."

The observation caught Serena off-guard. She'd never considered her younger self as a separate entity with opinions about her life choices. That girl had simply been the first iteration of the woman she'd become—a means to an end, not someone to make proud.

The sky deepened to indigo as they finished their meal, stars emerging one by one above them. The resort lights were distant enough that the night revealed itself in full glory, constellations crisp against the velvet darkness.

Serena watched as Lila's gaze drifted upward, her face softening with wonder at the cosmic display.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lila murmured.

"Yes," Serena agreed, though she wasn't looking at the stars.

The dinner dishes had been cleared, leaving them with just wine and the vast canopy of stars. Serena suggested they move to the more comfortable seating area she'd arranged at the terrace's edge. A plush outdoor sofa faced the ocean, close enough to therailing that they could feel the gentle night breeze carrying salt and tropical blooms.

"This is quite different from Manhattan's night sky," Serena observed, settling beside Lila, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.

"Too much light pollution there," Lila agreed. "Most people live their whole lives never seeing what the sky really looks like."

The metaphor wasn't lost on Serena. Until coming to this island, she'd been living under her own kind of light pollution—ambition and control drowning out certain truths that now seemed blindingly obvious in this clear night.

"I've been thinking about the Blackwood situation," she found herself saying, the words emerging before she'd fully decided to speak them.

"What about it?" Lila turned toward her, giving Serena her complete attention, a gift more precious than she'd realized until experiencing it here.

"I keep focusing on the betrayal and how she tricked me." Serena gazed upward, finding it easier to voice vulnerable thoughts without direct eye contact. "But what really bothers me is that I didn't see it coming."

"Because you trusted her?"

"Because I misread her completely." Serena's hand found the stem of her wine glass, turning it slowly. "I thought we had a genuine connection—two women navigating male-dominated industries, appreciating each other's strategic minds. I thought she respected me."

Lila was quiet for a moment. "It sounds like you're more hurt by the personal betrayal than the business implications."

The observation struck with uncomfortable precision. "Maybe," Serena admitted. "Which is ridiculous. Business isn't personal."

"Except that it is," Lila said gently. "When it's your life's work, when it's built on your values and vision, how could it not be personal?"

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