Page 81 of Vacation with the Ice Queen

She gathered her meditation cushion, making a decision that felt right despite its difficulty. She would request a substitute for Serena's remaining wellness sessions, not out of spite or hurt, but from genuine self-care. Professional ethics demanded it; personal preservation required it.

The email to Elara was straightforward: a conflict of interest had developed, making it inappropriate for her to continue as Serena's wellness coach. No details, no drama, just a simple statement of facts and a request for reassignment.

As Lila pressed send, a fragile peace settled over her. She hadn't compromised her values or diminished herself to accommodate Serena's retreat. The woman who had spent five years gradually shrinking to fit Sophie's expectations would have begged for crumbs of attention, would have pretended the withdrawal didn't hurt, would have made herself smaller to appear less threatening.

That woman no longer existed.

Lila tucked her phone away and headed toward the beach, drawn to the steady rhythm of waves against the shore. Whatever happened next—whether Serena found the courage to lower her walls again or retreated permanently behind them—Lila would weather it with the hard-won strength that had carried her this far.

Some lessons, once learned, couldn't be unlearned. And self-respect, once reclaimed, wouldn't be surrendered again—not even for a stunning CEO with eyes like the ocean after a storm.

11

SERENA

Serena's villa felt impossibly empty as the day wore on. After Lila had left that morning, she'd thrown herself into work with mechanical precision—answering emails, analyzing reports, and crafting strategies to counter Walter's moves. The familiar rhythm of crisis management should have provided comfort and the sense of purpose that had defined her for decades.

Instead, each passing hour only deepened the hollow feeling in her chest.

By late afternoon, she couldn't stand the walls of the villa anymore. The spaces Lila had occupied seemed to echo with her absence. Even the breakfast dishes, long since cleared by resort staff, had left a phantom reminder on the dining table where they'd had their disastrous morning conversation.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered, shoving away from her laptop. She'd reread the same paragraph six times without absorbing a word.

Outside, the island continued its perfect tropical display—palm fronds swaying in the breeze, waves breaking against white sand, birds calling from flowering trees. The contrast betweenthe paradise surrounding her and the chaos inside her head felt almost offensive.

She grabbed her room key and headed for the door. The half-finished reports, the waiting crisis in New York, and Ashley's increasingly urgent messages—all of it could wait. Right now, she needed to escape the confines of walls and ceilings and her own racing thoughts.

The afternoon sun warmed her skin as she walked aimlessly along the resort paths. Other guests offered polite nods that she returned automatically, her CEO mask slipping into place with practiced ease. But beneath that perfect facade, Lila's words from that morning kept circling in her mind.

"You're scared, so you're pushing me away."

The observation had cut through all her carefully constructed defenses, naming a truth she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge. Shewasscared—terrified, actually—of how quickly her barriers had crumbled in Lila's presence. Of how real everything felt between them. Of the inevitable goodbye looming just days away.

Serena found herself at the main garden, where exotic flowers bloomed in carefully cultivated beds. The landscaping that had seemed bland when she'd first arrived now struck her as almost painfully beautiful—fragile blooms opening themselves completely to sun and rain, vulnerable yet thriving.

"Flowers have the right idea," came a voice behind her. "They don't worry about tomorrow. They just bloom while they can."

Serena turned to find an older man tending to a vibrant hibiscus plant, his weathered hands moving with gentle precision among the blossoms. She recognized him as the gardener she'd met during her midnight wandering days ago—Maika.

"Some of us don't have that luxury," she replied, her voice carrying more edge than she'd intended.

Maika straightened, studying her with eyes that missed nothing. "Ah. The happiness found you, and now you are running from it."

The simple observation, delivered without judgment, caught Serena off guard. "I'm not running from anything. I'm simply being realistic about circumstances."

"Hmm." He returned to his pruning, snipping away a dead bloom with careful attention. "Realism and fear often wear the same clothes. Hard to tell them apart sometimes."

Irritation flared in Serena's chest. What was it with this island and everyone thinking they could see straight through her?

"With all due respect, you don't know me or my situation."

Maika nodded, completely unruffled by her cool tone. "True. I only know what I see. A woman who found something unexpected on our island. Something that made her eyes lighter for a few days." He glanced up at her. "And now the heaviness has returned."

Serena's defenses rose automatically. This was exactly why she kept people at arm's length—to avoid this kind of invasive analysis, this presumption of insight.

"I'm leaving in six days," she said, the words coming out more sharply than she'd intended. "Back to New York, to my company, to my real life. What would be the point of... complicating things with temporary connections?"

"Ah." Maika nodded as if she'd confirmed something he already knew. "The afraid-of-temporary disease. Very common among visitors."

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