Page 29

When they finally moved back to seated poses, Lila noticed a significant change in Serena's physical presence.

The rigid armor she'd arrived in had softened, not into vulnerability exactly, but into something less defended.

Her movements had a fluidity that hadn't been present at the beginning of practice, and her breathing was deeper and more natural.

The body often surrendered before the mind was ready to follow.

"We'll finish in a comfortable seated position," Lila said, lowering herself cross-legged onto her mat. "Take a moment to notice how your body feels compared to when we began."

Serena settled opposite her, close enough that Lila could see the subtle flush exercise had brought to her cheeks, the slight dampness at her temples where hair curled against her skin.

Despite the designer workout clothes and perfect posture, she looked more human than corporate in this moment—a woman rather than an icon.

Their eyes met briefly across the space between mats. Something unspoken passed between them, a current of awareness that neither seemed ready to voice.

Lila was the first to look away, focusing on the ocean beyond Serena's shoulder. "We'll close with three deep breaths together," she said, her voice steady despite the tightness in her throat. "Inhaling fully... and exhaling completely."

They breathed in unison, the simple act creating connection despite the careful distance between them. On the final exhale, Lila brought her palms together at her heart center in the traditional close. "Thank you for your practice."

Serena mirrored the gesture with surprising grace, her usually sharp blue eyes holding an unfamiliar softness. "Thank you," she said, the words simple but weighted with something beyond mere courtesy.

The formal end of practice created a new awkwardness—the structure that had carried them through the session suddenly gone, leaving them to navigate the uncharted territory between them.

Lila busied herself by gathering her things, using the familiar routine to ground herself. "Would you like some water?" she asked, offering a bottle from her bag.

Serena accepted with a nod, her fingers brushing Lila's in the exchange. The brief contact sent a ripple of awareness through Lila's body, a reminder of how those same hands had tangled in her hair last night, drawing her closer with surprising hunger.

"About last night," Serena said suddenly, breaking the careful silence they'd maintained through the entire session.

Lila looked up, caught off-guard by the direct approach. She'd expected avoidance, not confrontation.

"Yes?" she prompted when Serena didn't immediately continue.

Serena took a measured sip of water, her composure clearly a practiced skill. "I want to be clear that it was... unprofessional on both our parts."

The words landed like stones, precisely placed and impossible to misinterpret. Lila felt something in her chest tighten, though she kept her expression neutral. "I understand."

"I don't regret it," Serena continued, her voice lowering slightly. "But it complicates an already complex situation."

Lila nodded, unsure whether to feel relieved by the lack of regret or disappointed by the clear boundary being established. "It does."

Serena recapped the water bottle with precision. "I'm leaving in eleven days and returning to a company in crisis and a board questioning my judgment."

The reminder hung between them; Serena's real life existed in Manhattan skyscrapers and boardrooms, not on secluded island beaches. Whatever had sparked between them was temporary by definition.

"I know," Lila said softly. She did know, had always known, yet the reality still stung with surprising sharpness.

"So perhaps it's best if we..." Serena hesitated, seeming to search for the right phrasing. "If we maintain professional boundaries going forward."

There it was. Exactly what Lila had expected, yet it still caught in her chest like a barb. The rational request from a woman who built empires on rationality, who couldn't afford entanglements with island wellness coaches.

"Of course," Lila agreed, her professional mask firmly in place despite the hollow feeling expanding beneath her ribs. "That makes perfect sense."

Relief flickered across Serena's face, though something else lingered in her eyes, something that might have been regret or might simply have been Lila's wishful thinking.

"I would still like to continue our sessions," Serena added, the statement carrying its own weight. "They've been... beneficial."

Coming from Serena, this qualified as effusive praise. Lila found a smile despite the complicated emotions churning inside her. "I'm glad to hear that. Same time tomorrow morning?"

Serena nodded as she rose with fluid grace. She hesitated, looking as if she might say something more, then seemed to think better of it. "Until tomorrow, then."

Lila watched as Serena walked away, her figure silhouetted against the morning sunshine. Only when she disappeared around the curve of the path did Lila allow her shoulders to drop, the professional facade slipping.

She sank onto the sand, pulling her knees to her chest as she stared out at the endless ocean.

The morning light that had seemed so promising now felt harsh, illuminating the reality she'd tried to ignore: whatever had happened in the moonlight had been temporary magic, not the beginning of something that could last.

"Boundaries," she whispered to the waves, the word carrying both wisdom and heartache.

After all, wasn't that exactly what she'd promised herself this morning? To maintain her sense of self, to avoid the pattern with Sophie of giving too much?

Lila returned to her cottage feeling hollowed out, as if something essential had been scooped from her chest and scattered across the morning beach. The conversation with Serena replayed on loop in her mind, each word a careful brick in the wall being rebuilt between them.

"I don't regret it. But it complicates an already complex situation."

She kicked off her sandals at the door, leaving them in a jumbled heap rather than her usual neat arrangement. The small act of disorder felt like the only honest expression of her inner state.

"Perhaps it's best if we maintain professional boundaries going forward."

Of course it was best. Rational, sensible, appropriate. All the things Lila prided herself on being in her professional life. So why did doing the right thing feel like swallowing sand?

She moved through her small kitchen on autopilot, filling the kettle and taking down her favorite mug—the one with tiny sea turtles swimming around the rim, a gift from her brother during his visit last spring.

The familiar routine of making tea provided structure when her thoughts refused to settle.

"It's for the best," she told the empty room, saying aloud what her rational mind already knew.

Serena was leaving in eleven days and returning to her real life in Manhattan, to board meetings and crisis management and the empire she'd built. Whatever had sparked between them—chemistry, curiosity, momentary madness—would fizzle against the hard reality of geography and circumstance.

Better to acknowledge that now than nurse foolish hopes.

The kettle whistled, its piercing shriek breaking her reverie.

Lila poured steaming water over a ginger tea bag, watching the liquid darken as aroma filled the air.

She had a full schedule today: Mr. Peterson's morning hike, Mrs. Abelman's meditation session, and paperwork for next week's retreat group.

Real responsibilities that deserved her full attention, not this pointless circling around a kiss and shared intimacy that clearly meant more to her than it had to Serena.

The knock at her door startled her so badly she nearly dropped her mug.

No one from the staff visited her cottage this time of morning; everyone respected the unspoken boundaries between work and private space. For a wild moment, her heart leapt with the thought that perhaps Serena had changed her mind and had followed her home to continue their conversation.

But when she opened the door, it wasn't Serena standing on her small porch but Marcus, his usual easy smile replaced with uncharacteristic solemnity.

"Morning, sunshine," he said, though his expression didn't match the greeting. "Got a minute?"

Lila stepped back to let him in, a knot forming in her stomach at his serious tone. "What's wrong? Did something happen with the Peterson group?"

"No, nothing like that." Marcus entered, his tall frame making her cottage feel suddenly smaller. He glanced around, taking in the abandoned yoga mat, the half-drunk tea, the general disarray that spoke of her distracted state. "I just talked to Kai."

The knot in Lila's stomach tightened. "And?"

"And he mentioned seeing you and a certain CEO at the main pool last night." Marcus's voice held no judgment, just quiet concern. "Around midnight."

Heat climbed Lila's neck as she turned away, busying herself with straightening items on her counter that didn't need straightening. "We ran into each other. It's a small island."

"Uh-huh." Marcus leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "And did this accidental midnight meeting involve skinny dipping and fucking, or did Kai hallucinate that part?"

Lila's head snapped up, mortification flooding her. "He was watching us?"

"He was going on a walk after a meditation session." Marcus's voice softened. "Don't worry, he only told me because he was concerned. It won't go further."

Small mercies, but not enough to ease the horror of knowing their private moment had been observed. Lila sank onto a kitchen stool, covering her face with her hands. "God. This is so unprofessional."

The gentle pressure of Marcus's hand on her shoulder made her look up. His expression had shifted from concern to something closer to compassion. "Hey, I'm not here to judge. I just wanted to check if you're okay."