Page 37

The directness of the question caught her off guard. Days ago, she would have dismissed it as absurd. Trust was earned over years, not days. Yet something in her had recognized something in Lila from their first real conversation, some essential quality that had slipped past her usual defenses.

"More than I should, probably," she admitted.

Lila's smile held a complexity that belied her usual sunny demeanor. "Maybe that's the beginning of discernment right there—recognizing when trust feels right, even when logic suggests caution."

The idea was so fundamentally contrary to how Serena had built her life and career that she almost rejected it outright. Trust based on feeling rather than evidence? Intuition over data? It went against everything that had made her and her company successful.

And yet... and yet something in it resonated with the changes she'd been experiencing on this island. The way yoga had taught her to listen to her body's wisdom. The way meditation had shown her that logic alone couldn't access all forms of understanding.

"I'll take that under advisement," Serena said, her formal phrasing at odds with the small smile tugging at her lips.

Lila laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "I bet you say that to all the girls who psychoanalyze you on beach rocks."

The tension broke, and Serena found herself laughing too. "You'd be the first, actually."

Their eyes met, humor shifting seamlessly into something warmer, more charged. Serena became acutely aware of Lila's proximity, the way the morning sun brought out golden highlights in her honey-blonde hair, the curve of her lips still lifted in a smile.

Without overthinking, Serena leaned forward and kissed her.

Unlike their heated pool encounter or even last night's restrained goodnight kiss, this was something else entirely—unhurried, exploratory, a conversation without words. Lila responded with equal gentleness, her hand coming up to rest lightly on Serena's shoulder.

When they separated, Serena felt oddly breathless, as if she'd been running rather than sitting perfectly still on sun-warmed rock.

"What was that for?" Lila asked, her voice soft.

"For listening," Serena replied. "For asking questions no one else bothers to ask."

Lila's eyes held hers, seeing too much and somehow making that exposure feel like safety rather than danger. "Thank you for answering them."

The moment stretched between them, weighted with possibility. Serena found herself wanting to say more and explore whatever this connection was growing into. But the sound of voices—resort guests walking the beach—intruded on their private bubble.

"We should head back," Lila said, though she made no move to rise.

"Probably," Serena agreed, equally reluctant.

They climbed down from the rocks hand in hand, a small intimacy that felt both novel and entirely natural.

As they walked back toward the cove where they'd left their things, Serena realized that for the first time in years—perhaps ever—she'd shared a piece of her professional pain without strategic purpose.

Not to gain sympathy or advantage, not to justify a decision or deflect blame, but simply because Lila had asked and she had wanted to answer.

It should have felt dangerous, this unplanned vulnerability. Instead, it felt like setting down a weight she'd carried so long she'd forgotten it wasn't actually part of her.

By the time they returned to their starting point, the morning heat had intensified. Perspiration beaded on Serena's skin, a reminder that even paradise had its discomforts.

"The water looks inviting," Lila observed, gesturing toward the crystal-clear lagoon where gentle waves lapped against the shore. "Care for a swim before heading back?"

Serena glanced toward the ocean, then down at her expensive workout gear, now slightly damp with sweat and clinging uncomfortably. "I didn't bring a swimsuit."

Lila's smile held a hint of mischief. "Neither did I. But it's a private beach, and yoga clothes dry quickly in this sun."

The suggestion—swimming in their current attire rather than returning to change—struck Serena as delightfully impractical.

The Serena who ran Frost Innovations would never entertain such an idea.

That woman scheduled everything in fifteen-minute increments and never deviated from optimal efficiency.

But that Serena seemed increasingly distant, a version of herself she'd left behind in Manhattan along with her power suits and punishing schedule.

"Why not?" she heard herself agreeing, the simple acceptance feeling like another small rebellion against her former self.

Lila grinned, immediately pulling her tank top over her head to reveal a simple sports bra beneath. She kicked off her shorts, leaving her in just the bra and yoga briefs, and waded into the water without hesitation.

Serena took a moment longer, her fingers hesitating at the hem of her designer top. Not out of modesty—their midnight pool encounter had long since eliminated those barriers—but from the strange novelty of spontaneity. Of doing something simply because it felt good, not because it served a purpose.

The water splashed as Lila dove beneath the surface, emerging a moment later with wet hair slicked back from her face. "Coming?" she called, floating effortlessly in the clear turquoise water.

Something about the sight—Lila surrounded by endless blue, smiling up at her with uncomplicated joy—broke through Serena's remaining hesitation. She pulled off her top and stepped out of her yoga pants, leaving them in a haphazard pile that would have horrified her personal shopper.

The water felt like silk against her skin as she waded in, cool without being cold, perfectly calibrated like everything else on this island designed for pleasure. She moved deeper until the gentle waves lifted her feet from the sandy bottom, surrendering to the ocean's support.

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Lila said, floating nearby. "The way water holds you up when you stop fighting it."

"Much like life," Serena replied, surprising herself with the observation.

Lila's laughter rippled across the water. "Look at you, making metaphors about surrender. This island is changing you."

"Don't tell anyone back in New York. I'll lose my reputation as the Ice Queen of Tech," Serena said dryly, though the nickname no longer stung the way it once had. Here, with the sun warming her face and salt water buoying her body, the idea that she was somehow frozen seemed absurd.

They swam lazily toward a cluster of rocks that extended from the beach into deeper water. Schools of tiny silver fish darted beneath them, unbothered by their presence.

"Have you ever snorkeled?" Lila asked as they reached the rocks, finding footholds in the natural formation.

Serena shook her head. "Never had the time. Or the inclination, really."

"Wait here," Lila said, swimming back toward shore with powerful strokes.

Serena watched her go, admiring the easy grace with which she moved through the water. Everything about Lila suggested a woman comfortable in her own skin, attuned to her environment in ways Serena was only beginning to understand.

Minutes later, Lila returned with a mesh bag from their beach supplies. "We keep basic snorkel gear at all the beaches," she explained, pulling out two masks with attached snorkels. "Nothing fancy, but they do the job."

She demonstrated how to defog the mask, adjust the straps, and clear the snorkel while swimming. Serena listened with intensity, determined to master this new skill with her usual efficiency.

"You don't have to perfect it," Lila said, noticing her concentration. "It's just for fun."

The simple permission to be imperfect hit Serena with unexpected force. When was the last time she'd attempted something new without an immediate plan to excel at it? When had she last done anything "just for fun?”

"Sorry," she said, forcing her shoulders to relax. "Old habits."

Lila's expression softened. "Don't apologize for who you are. Just know that under that water, no one's keeping score."

They adjusted their masks and slipped beneath the surface together. Serena's first breath through the snorkel felt strange and unnatural, but Lila stayed close, her presence reassuring as Serena acclimatized to this new way of breathing.

And then the underwater world opened before her.

The reef extending from the rocks revealed itself as an explosion of life and color.

Coral formations in shapes she couldn't have imagined—some like branching trees, others like giant brains, others still like delicate fans waving in the current.

Fish in impossible hues darted among them—electric blue, sunshine yellow, deep purple with shimmering scales that caught the filtered sunlight.

Serena had seen underwater footage before, of course. But the difference between watching a screen and being immersed in this reality was like the difference between reading about a kiss and actually experiencing one.

Lila pointed to a particular formation where a small octopus had wedged itself into a crevice, its color shifting to match the surrounding coral with such precision that Serena would never have noticed it on her own. Its intelligent eyes watched them warily as one tentacle waved in the current.

They surfaced briefly, adjusting masks and catching proper breaths.

"It's incredible," Serena said, the simple words inadequate for the wonder she felt. "I had no idea."

"Most people don't," Lila replied. "We live our whole lives on the surface, never seeing the world that exists just beneath our feet."

The observation landed with the particular weight of truth. How much had Serena missed by focusing exclusively on targets and goals, never pausing to explore the depth of experience available beyond her narrow path?