Page 10

"Fair point." Marcus straightened as the distant sound of rotor blades became audible. "Show time. Want me to stick around for moral support?"

Lila shook her head. "First impressions matter. Too many people might feel overwhelming."

"Your call." He squeezed her shoulder. "Group dinner at the staff beach tonight if you need to decompress afterward. I expect full details on her response to paradise."

With a final encouraging smile, he departed down the path that led back to the main resort, leaving Lila alone as the helicopter's distinctive shape appeared on the horizon.

She took a deep breath, centering herself in the moment.

This wasn't about her own nervousness or preconceptions; it was about creating space for whatever Serena needed, whether she communicated those needs or not.

The wind picked up as the Solara Island helicopter approached, whipping Lila's loose dress around her legs and tugging strands of honey-blonde hair from her braid.

Rather than fight the elements, she surrendered to them, allowing herself to embody the flexibility and adaptation she hoped to encourage in her newest client.

The aircraft circled once before beginning its descent, giving its passenger a panoramic view of the island.

Lila wondered what Serena might be thinking as she observed her temporary sanctuary from above.

Would she see the beauty or merely calculate the isolation from her power base?

Would she recognize the opportunity or resent the imposed retreat?

The helicopter settled onto the pad with practiced precision, its rotors slowing but not yet stopping as the pilot completed his landing checks.

Through the tinted window, Lila caught her first glimpse of movement—a slim figure in dark clothing, head bent over what was almost certainly a phone, squeezing in final communications before reception disappeared.

Lila straightened her shoulders and moved forward as the door slid open. The helicopter's downdraft created a final swirl of wind around her as she approached, her welcoming smile firmly in place despite the dust and debris.

Serena emerged from the aircraft with the practiced efficiency of someone accustomed to transitions.

Unlike most guests who often appeared disheveled after the long journey, she looked remarkably composed—tailored linen pants crisp despite hours of travel, silk blouse unwrinkled, hair secured in a perfect French twist that hadn't surrendered a single strand to the helicopter's turbulence.

Only the subtle shadows beneath her eyes and a barely perceptible tightness around her mouth betrayed the accumulated fatigue of international travel.

Her gaze swept the landing area with swift assessment before settling on Lila. Even prepared by photographs, Lila found herself momentarily struck by the intensity of those piercing blue eyes—evaluative and penetrating, taking her measure in an instant.

"Ms. Frost," Lila called over the diminishing rotor noise, moving closer with extended hand. "Welcome to Solara Island. I'm Lila Skye, your wellness guide during your stay."

Serena accepted the handshake with cool efficiency.

Her grip was firm but brief, establishing contact without inviting connection.

"I assume there's transportation to the accommodations?

This heat is rather excessive." Her voice carried the crisp precision of someone accustomed to immediate response.

"Of course. Your villa is prepared and waiting." Lila gestured toward the path where a small electric cart stood ready. "It's a short ride through the gardens. Would you prefer to rest or would you like an orientation around the resort facilities?"

"Rest won't be necessary. A brief orientation followed by reviewing whatever schedule has been proposed would be most efficient." Serena's gaze had already moved past Lila to survey the surroundings, cataloging her new environment with analytical thoroughness.

"We've prepared some suggestions based on your assistant's input, but your time here is yours to shape,” Lila clarified gently.

Something flickered briefly in Serena's expression—surprise, perhaps, or skepticism. "I find that unlikely, given the circumstances of my arrangement."

The response confirmed what Lila had suspected. Serena viewed this retreat as an enforced exile rather than an opportunity. Building trust would require acknowledging that perception rather than denying it.

"I understand this visit wasn't entirely voluntary," Lila acknowledged as they walked toward the waiting cart. "But that doesn't mean your experience here needs to feel like a sentence to be served. Solara Island offers structure for those who want it and freedom for those who don't."

Serena's sidelong glance carried a hint of reluctant interest beneath the skepticism. "A diplomatic response."

"An honest one." Lila smiled, helping the pilot load Serena's luggage into the cart's rear compartment. "The island tends to give people what they need, sometimes in unexpected ways."

"I highly doubt this island has any concept of what I need." Serena settled into the passenger seat, her posture as perfect in the small vehicle as it would be in a boardroom. The subtle dismissal in her tone would have intimidated many, but Lila recognized it as the defensive maneuver it was.

"Perhaps not yet," she conceded, taking the driver's position. "But we have two weeks to figure it out together."

As the cart hummed to life, Lila noticed Serena's hand move instinctively to her pocket, likely seeking a phone that had already been surrendered.

The small gesture of disconnection—reaching for technology that wasn't there—revealed more vulnerability than any expression on her carefully controlled face.

They began the descent toward the eastern side of the island, the path winding through flowering hibiscus and fragrant gardenia bushes.

Lila deliberately kept her pace unhurried, allowing the natural beauty to speak for itself rather than pointing out features like a tour guide.

Beside her, Serena remained silent, her attention apparently focused on the illicit tablet she had extracted from her carry-on bag despite the bumpy ride.

"The villa has a dedicated satellite connection for necessary communications," Lila mentioned casually. "Limited, but secure. Your assistant arranged it specifically."

Serena's fingers paused momentarily on the screen. "Thoughtful of her."

The simple acknowledgment of Nicole's consideration offered a tiny opening, a hairline crack in the professional facade. Lila filed the observation away: despite her reputation for detachment, Serena recognized and valued competence in others.

They rounded a final curve, and the villa came into view, its clean lines complementing rather than competing with the spectacular ocean backdrop.

Lila observed Serena's reaction from her peripheral vision, noting the subtle lifting of her gaze from the tablet—momentary appreciation quickly suppressed, but present nonetheless.

"Your home for the next two weeks," Lila announced as she parked the cart beside the stone steps. "The most private accommodation on the island, with both sunrise and sunset views."

"It appears adequate." Serena closed her tablet, sliding it back into her bag as she assessed the villa with the same analytical attention she'd given everything else. "Though excessive for a single occupant."

"Space to breathe is part of the experience," Lila replied, retrieving the luggage. "Sometimes thoughts need room to expand before they can find clarity."

The observation earned her another glance from those penetrating blue eyes. "You sound like the mindfulness books HR departments distribute after budget cuts. All sentiment, minimal substance."

The barb might have stung someone less secure, but Lila recognized it as reflexive rather than personal—a test of boundaries and character disguised as dismissal. She responded with a genuine, warm laugh.

"I promise to keep the platitudes to a minimum if you'll consider that some sentiments become clichés precisely because they contain elements of truth."

For the briefest moment, something resembling surprise crossed Serena's features—perhaps at the lack of defensiveness, perhaps at the gentle pushback. She recovered quickly, but Lila caught the microexpression with a practiced eye.

"A conditional arrangement," Serena noted as they ascended the steps to the villa's entrance. "Very well. I'll reserve judgment on Solara Island's philosophical offerings pending evidence of their validity."

Lila smiled at the executive's formal language—a reminder that beneath the formidable reputation and carefully controlled exterior was a woman who processed the world through analysis and evidence.

Not an adversary to be overcome or a problem to be solved, but a person navigating life through the tools that had served her.

"That's all I ask," Lila replied, opening the door to welcome Serena into her temporary sanctuary. "An open mind, even if skeptically so."

As they crossed the threshold together, Lila felt the familiar sense of beginning that accompanied each new client relationship—the potential pathways stretching before them, some leading to transformation, others to resistance.

Which route Serena would choose remained to be seen, but the journey had officially begun.

The island had much to offer this wounded soul disguised as an impenetrable executive. Whether she would accept those offerings was the question that hung in the air between them, unasked but pivotal to everything that would follow.