Page 11

SERENA

S erena stood in the center of the villa's main room, taking inventory with the same methodical precision she'd use to evaluate a potential acquisition.

The space opened around her—all clean lines and ocean views, designed to blur the boundary between inside and out.

A ridiculous concept, in her opinion. Boundaries existed for a reason.

"The kitchen is fully stocked," Lila explained, moving through the space with the easy familiarity of someone completely at home in her own skin. "The chef can prepare whatever you'd like or you're welcome to make your own meals."

Serena made a noncommittal sound, running her finger along the edge of the countertop. Not a speck of dust. At least their housekeeping met her standards.

She moved to the dining table where an elegant orchid stood in solitary perfection.

Beside it sat a basket containing what appeared to be carefully selected items rather than the generic offerings she'd expected.

She picked up a tin of tea, surprised to recognize the label of her preferred Earl Grey.

"Your assistant provided some of your preferences," Lila said, noticing Serena's attention. "We tried to make the space feel welcoming."

Serena set the tin down without comment, though the thoughtfulness registered somewhere beneath her practiced indifference.

She continued her inspection, moving toward the wall of windows that framed the ocean like a living painting.

The view was admittedly spectacular. Endless blue stretched to the horizon, sunlight dancing across the water's surface.

Not that she planned to waste time staring at scenery.

"I assume there's a workspace?" she asked, turning away from the view.

"Through here." Lila led her into a smaller room equipped with a desk positioned to face yet another panoramic window. "The satellite connection is strongest in this area."

Serena immediately began setting up her makeshift office, unpacking her tablet and the satellite phone she'd smuggled past Nicole's watchful eye. The ritual of arranging her tools provided comfort amid the disorienting luxury of this forced vacation.

"Most guests find they don't need their devices after the first few days," Lila ventured, watching as Serena created a miniature version of her Manhattan command center.

"I'm not most guests." Serena didn't look up as her fingers moved with practiced efficiency, establishing order in this unfamiliar space.

"Clearly," Lila agreed, and something in her tone made Serena glance up. There was no judgment in those hazel-green eyes, only a calm acknowledgment that somehow irritated Serena more than criticism would have.

She stood and brushed past Lila. "I'd like to see the rest."

The bedroom continued the villa's theme of understated luxury. Serena moved through the space with critical attention, opening drawers and testing the firmness of the mattress with clinical detachment.

Her eyes caught on a leather-bound journal placed on the bedside table, a fine pen resting beside it. She picked it up, flipping through the empty pages with a dismissive snort.

"For thoughts that deserve preservation beyond digital devices," Lila explained, repeating the words from the notecard Serena had ignored.

"I have digital backups of my digital backups," Serena replied, dropping the journal back onto the table. "Handwriting is inefficient."

"Sometimes inefficiency serves a purpose," Lila said. "Like how certain wines improve when aged slowly, or how?—"

"Does the shower have adequate water pressure?" Serena interrupted, unwilling to entertain philosophical musings about the virtues of wasting time.

If Lila was offended by the abrupt change of subject, she didn't show it. "The best on the island. Let me show you."

The bathroom proved to be another exercise in tasteful extravagance—a freestanding tub beside a window overlooking a private garden, an outdoor shower enclosed by flowering vines, and fixtures that combined form and function.

Serena turned a tap experimentally, satisfied by the immediate rush of water and precise temperature control. At least she wouldn't have to sacrifice basic comforts during her exile.

As she shut off the water, her hand brushed against Lila's as they both reached for the tap. The brief contact sent an unexpected jolt through Serena's arm, and she withdrew quickly, creating distance between them.

"The temperature controls are adjustable throughout the villa," Lila continued as if nothing had happened, though Serena thought she detected a slight flush across her cheeks. "We've set them to sixty-eight degrees, as your assistant mentioned you prefer."

Serena nodded, unconsciously rubbing her fingers where they had touched Lila's. "That will be acceptable."

They returned to the main room, where afternoon light streamed through the windows, creating patterns across the polished floor. For a moment, Serena felt curiously unmoored—standing in this beautiful space with no immediate crisis to manage, no meeting to direct, no competitor to outmaneuver.

"I've taken the liberty of arranging a preliminary wellness consultation for this afternoon," Lila said, breaking the silence. "Unless you'd prefer to settle in first."

The idea of "settling in" felt like surrender. Serena checked her watch—a timekeeping device, not a smart watch that Nicole might have thought to confiscate.

"I have several calls to make first," she replied, already mentally prioritizing which fires to address with her limited connectivity. "We can proceed with your... consultation afterward."

"Of course." Lila moved toward the door, pausing with her hand on the frame. "The kitchen is stocked, but I'd recommend the terrace for dinner. The sunset views are particularly beautiful tonight."

Serena had already returned her attention to her tablet, dismissing Lila without looking up. "I'll take that under advisement."

Only when the door closed softly did Serena release the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She stood motionless in the center of the vast room, suddenly aware of the silence—a rare commodity in her Manhattan life, now surrounding her in uncomfortable abundance.

She turned back to her tablet, seeking refuge in the familiar glow of spreadsheets and status reports. Work had always been her sanctuary. Fourteen days of enforced retreat wouldn't change that, no matter how picturesque the prison or how intriguing its keeper.

Late afternoon sun spilled across the villa's terrace, casting everything with a golden hue as Serena sat with rigid posture opposite Lila. Between them lay a small table with herbal tea—untouched on Serena's side—and a clipboard containing Lila's handwritten wellness plan.

This woman- Lila- had very beautiful hazel eyes that most often shone green in the sunlight. She also had a delightful body, Serena could see through her loose fitting clothes. Serena couldn’t help but notice the lovely curve of her ass and her breasts, but she filed those thoughts away for later.

Serena eyed the flowing script with barely concealed skepticism. "Your qualifications?" she asked, the question more a demand than inquiry.

"Master's in Integrative Wellness Psychology from Stanford," Lila replied without defensiveness. "Five years at corporate wellness programs in Silicon Valley before joining Solara Island." She met Serena's gaze directly. "I worked primarily with tech executives experiencing burnout."

Serena raised an eyebrow, surprised despite herself. She'd expected vague certifications from dubious online programs, not legitimate credentials. "And what brings someone with a Stanford degree to play beach therapist?"

Something flickered in Lila's eyes, a brief shadow quickly masked by professional composure. "The same thing that brings most people to turning points. Life showed me I needed a different path."

"How delightfully vague," Serena commented, her tone deliberately dismissive as she picked up the wellness plan. Her eyes scanned the document, cataloging phrases like "mindfulness practice" and "emotional integration" with increasing skepticism.

"This is remarkably lacking in measurable outcomes," she noted, setting the clipboard down. "How exactly do you quantify success in your... field?"

"Not everything valuable can be measured in quarterly reports." Lila leaned forward slightly, her presence somehow filling the space between them without being imposing. "But if you prefer metrics, we track sleep quality, cortisol levels, cognitive function, and subjective wellbeing scores."

Serena's mouth twitched. The woman clearly knew how to speak to executives.

"And what's your proposed methodology for these improvements?" She gestured toward the clipboard. "Chanting? Crystal healing? Talking to trees?"

Lila smiled, unfazed by the sarcasm. "Nothing that esoteric.

We start with evidence-based practices: regulated breathing techniques that affect your autonomic nervous system, movement patterns that release physical tension, and mindfulness exercises that improve cognitive function.

" She reached for the teapot, refilling her cup with a steady hand.

"Would you like to try a simple demonstration? "

"I hardly think?—"

"Thirty seconds," Lila interrupted gently. "If it's useless, you've lost half a minute. A reasonable investment to validate or disprove a hypothesis, wouldn't you say?"

Serena narrowed her eyes, recognizing the subtle challenge couched in scientific terminology. This Lila Skye with her sparkling green eyes and enchanting breasts was cleverer than she'd initially given her credit for.

"Thirty seconds," she agreed coldly.

"Close your eyes and take a deep breath," Lila instructed, her voice shifting to a calmer, steadier cadence.

"I'm not closing my eyes," Serena countered immediately.

Lila nodded, adapting without missing a beat. "That's fine. Focus on a fixed point then, and breathe in for a count of four."