Page 12

Reluctantly, Serena drew in a breath, fixing her gaze on a point beyond Lila's shoulder where the ocean met the horizon.

"Hold for two counts," Lila continued, "and exhale for six."

The simple pattern shouldn't have had any effect.

It was just breathing, for god's sake, something Serena had managed successfully for forty-nine years without instruction.

Yet as she followed the counts, something shifted.

The constant tension in her shoulders—so familiar she'd stopped noticing it years ago—eased fractionally.

"Again," Lila said softly.

Serena complied, irritated by her own cooperation yet unwilling to break the pattern now that she'd started. The second breath went deeper, reaching parts of her lungs that felt strangely underused.

By the fourth breath, a curious lightness spread through her chest, accompanied by a momentary wave of dizziness that caught her off guard. She gripped the chair's armrest, an uncharacteristic display of physical reaction that she immediately regretted.

"That's normal," Lila assured her. "Your brain is getting more oxygen than it's accustomed to."

Serena fixed her gaze back on Lila, fighting the unfamiliar sensation. "Your thirty seconds are up."

"So they are." Lila made no comment about the slight color that had risen to Serena's cheeks or the white-knuckled grip she still maintained on the armrest. "What did you notice?"

"That breathing is inefficient when artificially slowed," Serena replied, reaching for her water rather than the tea. She needed to regain equilibrium without acknowledging she'd lost it in the first place.

"Interesting observation," Lila said, making a note on her clipboard. "Most people report the opposite. But everyone's experience is different."

The lack of argument was somehow more disarming than contention would have been. Serena had built her career on detecting and dismantling opposition. This calm acceptance left her with nothing to push against.

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the terrace as a gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and flowers.

Despite herself, Serena noticed the changing quality of light, the way it burnished everything with warmth that would have made for stunning photographs—had she been the type to waste time on such frivolities.

"I've outlined a suggested schedule," Lila continued, indicating the clipboard. "Including sunrise yoga tomorrow morning, if you're willing to try."

"I don't do yoga," Serena stated flatly.

"Have you tried it?"

"I don't need to try something to know it's not for me."

Lila's lips curved slightly. "I imagine many of your competitors said the same about challenging your position in the cybersecurity market."

The comparison was unexpected enough to draw a sharp look from Serena. "That's hardly equivalent."

"Perhaps not." Lila gathered her materials, seemingly untroubled by Serena's resistance. "The offer stands. Sunrise at Whisper Cove. It's the most private beach on the island. No other guests, no staff except me. Just the ocean and the beginning of a new day."

She stood, the movement graceful and unhurried. "Of course, if you'd prefer to maintain your normal workout routine, that's completely your choice."

Serena remained seated, examining Lila with renewed calculation. The woman was good—framing the invitation as a challenge rather than a plea, appealing to Serena's competitive nature without being obvious about it.

"What time?" she found herself asking, the question emerging before she'd fully decided to ask it.

"Five-thirty. I can meet you here, or you can follow the map in your welcome packet." Lila paused at the edge of the terrace. "The path is well-marked, if you prefer solitude on your walk over."

The consideration—offering an option that didn't require social interaction first thing in the morning—registered as surprisingly perceptive.

"I'll find my own way," Serena said, rising to signal the end of the consultation.

"Perfect." Lila's smile held no triumph, only quiet acknowledgment. "Wear something comfortable. The sand can be cool at that hour."

After Lila left, Serena remained on the terrace, watching as the sun began its final descent toward the horizon. She should return to her work—there were emails to review, reports to analyze, strategies to formulate for her eventual return to New York.

Instead, she found herself drawn to the railing, where the changing colors of the sky reflected across the water in a display that even her analytical mind recognized as objectively beautiful. Not that beauty held any practical value. Not that she had time for such observations in her normal life.

But the colors shifted from gold to pink to deepening purple, and for reasons she refused to examine, she continued watching until the first stars appeared in the darkening sky. Only then did she turn away, annoyed at herself for wasting precious minutes on something so utterly unproductive.

She returned to her makeshift office, pushing aside thoughts of breathing exercises and sunrise beaches and hazel-green eyes that saw too much.

This "wellness consultation" had been a minor diversion, nothing more.

Tomorrow she would establish a routine that maximized productivity within the constraints of this island prison.

Starting, apparently, with yoga at sunrise—a concession she attributed to strategic calculation rather than genuine curiosity, though the distinction felt curiously unconvincing even to herself.

Dusk settled fully over the villa, transforming the space as landscape lighting activated automatically, casting soft illumination across the terrace. Serena stood in the doorway between her makeshift office and the main living area, a strange restlessness humming beneath her skin.

Three hours of attempted work had yielded minimal results.

The satellite connection proved maddeningly selective about which messages it would deliver, and the reports she'd managed to download contained data sets too incomplete for proper analysis.

It was as if the universe—or more likely Nicole—had conspired to make even basic productivity a challenge.

The sound of gentle knocking interrupted her irritation. She crossed to the door in quick strides, opening it to find Lila standing with a slim folder in hand.

"I apologize for the interruption," Lila said, the evening breeze gently stirring loose strands of hair around her face. "I realized I forgot to leave your complete schedule options."

Serena stepped back, a wordless invitation that surprised them both. Lila entered, placing the folder on the dining table before turning back to face her.

"I've included several alternatives for each time slot," Lila explained. "There's everything from high-intensity training to meditation, from guided hikes to unstructured free time."

Serena approached the table, flipping open the folder to scan its contents.

The document was meticulously organized.

Each activity was categorized, timed, and annotated with brief descriptions.

No mystical language or empty promises, just clear information presented with respect for her intelligence.

"This is... thorough," she admitted, running her finger down the neatly arranged schedule grid.

"I thought you might appreciate options rather than prescriptions." Lila stood with easy confidence, neither encroaching on Serena's space nor retreating from it. "The schedule's designed to be adaptable."

Serena continued examining the document, unconsciously settling into one of the dining chairs. She noted with grudging approval that Lila had blocked out significant time for independent work, rather than trying to fill every moment with wellness activities.

"You've allocated morning hours for business communications," she observed.

"Your assistant mentioned you're typically most productive before 10 a.m.," Lila confirmed. "It seemed counterproductive to schedule activities that would conflict with your natural rhythm."

Serena looked up sharply. "How much did Nicole tell you about me?"

"Enough to create a foundation for our work together," Lila replied diplomatically. "Professional habits, preferences, and general health concerns. Nothing inappropriately personal."

Something in her tone hinted at professional boundaries that Serena found oddly reassuring. This wasn't gossip or intrusion; it was practical information gathered for a specific purpose.

"I see." Serena returned her attention to the schedule, using the document as a shield against the unsettling sense that Lila saw more than Serena intended to reveal. "This sunrise yoga session tomorrow. What exactly does it entail?"

"Basic stretches and movements designed to release tension and increase circulation," Lila said, moving to sit across from Serena at her silent gesture. "Nothing mystical or demanding. Just a way to start the day with awareness."

"I have limited patience for chanting and spiritual nonsense."

A smile flashed across Lila's face. "No chanting, I promise. Though I can't guarantee the sunrise won't inspire a certain appreciation for natural beauty."

Serena made a noncommittal sound, continuing to review the schedule. "I notice several water activities here."

"The resort can provide anything you need," Lila assured her. "There's a fully stocked closet in your bedroom with various sizes of equipment and additional clothing. All complimentary."

Serena recalled the walk-in closet she'd briefly assessed earlier, dismissing its contents as irrelevant. "I packed adequate workout attire, though I didn't anticipate needing snorkeling gear."

"The equipment is professional grade," Lila said, a hint of amusement warming her voice. "Though your designer workout clothes will be perfectly fine for yoga. The sunrise sessions don't require any special gear."