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Lila leaned forward, genuinely interested in a way that felt different from the calculated networking attention Serena usually received. "What did he say?"

"He said, 'Next time, ask first.'" Serena smiled at the memory. "Then he bought me my own computer to take apart."

"That sounds like encouragement," Lila observed.

"His version of it, yes." Serena swirled the wine in her glass, watching as it caught the candlelight. "My parents weren't demonstrative, but they recognized aptitude and rewarded results."

"And now you've built an empire based on those skills," Lila said softly. "That little girl with the circuit boards would be proud."

The observation caught Serena off-guard. She'd never considered her younger self as a separate entity with opinions about her life choices. That girl had simply been the first iteration of the woman she'd become—a means to an end, not someone to make proud.

The sky deepened to indigo as they finished their meal, stars emerging one by one above them. The resort lights were distant enough that the night revealed itself in full glory, constellations crisp against the velvet darkness.

Serena watched as Lila's gaze drifted upward, her face softening with wonder at the cosmic display.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Lila murmured.

"Yes," Serena agreed, though she wasn't looking at the stars.

The dinner dishes had been cleared, leaving them with just wine and the vast canopy of stars.

Serena suggested they move to the more comfortable seating area she'd arranged at the terrace's edge.

A plush outdoor sofa faced the ocean, close enough to the railing that they could feel the gentle night breeze carrying salt and tropical blooms.

"This is quite different from Manhattan's night sky," Serena observed, settling beside Lila, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.

"Too much light pollution there," Lila agreed. "Most people live their whole lives never seeing what the sky really looks like."

The metaphor wasn't lost on Serena. Until coming to this island, she'd been living under her own kind of light pollution—ambition and control drowning out certain truths that now seemed blindingly obvious in this clear night.

"I've been thinking about the Blackwood situation," she found herself saying, the words emerging before she'd fully decided to speak them.

"What about it?" Lila turned toward her, giving Serena her complete attention, a gift more precious than she'd realized until experiencing it here.

"I keep focusing on the betrayal and how she tricked me." Serena gazed upward, finding it easier to voice vulnerable thoughts without direct eye contact. "But what really bothers me is that I didn't see it coming."

"Because you trusted her?"

"Because I misread her completely." Serena's hand found the stem of her wine glass, turning it slowly. "I thought we had a genuine connection—two women navigating male-dominated industries, appreciating each other's strategic minds. I thought she respected me."

Lila was quiet for a moment. "It sounds like you're more hurt by the personal betrayal than the business implications."

The observation struck with uncomfortable precision. "Maybe," Serena admitted. "Which is ridiculous. Business isn't personal."

"Except that it is," Lila said gently. "When it's your life's work, when it's built on your values and vision, how could it not be personal?"

Serena turned to look at her, struck by how Lila made connections others missed, how she saw past professional mantras to the human reality beneath.

"My board would say that's precisely my problem," she said with a rueful smile. "Allowing emotions to cloud judgment."

"Do you think that's true?"

"No," Serena answered, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice. "My emotional investment is what built Frost Innovations. I care about privacy protection and creating systems people can trust. That's not weakness; it's my compass."

The words felt like a revelation, though she'd never articulated them quite that way before. Somewhere along the way, she'd accepted the narrative that her success came despite her emotions, not because of them.

"What about your ex-wife?" Lila asked carefully. "Was that personal too?"

The question should have felt invasive. Instead, here beneath the vast sky with this woman who saw beneath her surface, it felt like an invitation to examine a truth she'd been avoiding.

"Rachel said I was 'married to my work,'" Serena said quietly. "That I was 'more machine than woman.' That I was... boring."

The last word still stung, years later.

"Boring is the last word I'd use to describe you," Lila said, her voice warm in the darkness.

"You're seeing me outside my natural habitat," Serena replied, though the words held no bite. "In New York, I'm all routines and schedules. Predictable to a fault."

"Or perhaps reliable. Consistent. Trustworthy." Lila shifted closer, until their arms pressed together lightly. "Context changes everything."

A comfortable silence settled between them as they watched a distant fishing boat move across the horizon, its lights marking steady progress against the darkness.

"My natural instinct right now is to plan," Serena admitted. "To map out contingencies for when I return, to minimize the impact of all this..." She gestured vaguely between them, struggling to name whatever was developing.

"And what's stopping you?" Lila asked, no judgment in her voice, only curiosity.

"You are." Serena turned to face her fully. "Being with you makes me want to stay in this moment rather than plan the next one."

The admission felt monumental, though the words themselves were simple. She'd built her success on always looking ahead, always anticipating, always controlling the next move. Learning to value the present was perhaps the island's most radical teaching.

A shooting star streaked across the sky, a brilliant flash that left a momentary trail.

"Make a wish," Lila said softly.

"I don't believe in wishes," Serena replied automatically.

"Humor me." Lila's smile was visible even in the dim light.

Serena closed her eyes briefly. What would she wish for, if such things held power? More time? Different circumstances? A way to bridge the inevitable gap between their worlds?

"The island has a theory about falling stars," Lila said, her gaze still fixed upward. "They say wishes made here come true, but rarely in the way you expect."

"That's a conveniently unfalsifiable claim," Serena couldn't help pointing out, though her tone was teasing rather than dismissive.

"The most important truths usually are." Lila's hand found hers in the darkness, warm fingers interlacing with her own. "What would you wish for, if you did believe?"

The question hung between them, weighted with everything that remained unspoken. Serena found herself answering with unexpected honesty.

"More moments like this one," she said simply. "Just this."

They remained on the terrace long after their wine glasses emptied, conversation flowing between deep revelations and comfortable silences. The night wrapped around them like a private cocoon, the distant crash of waves providing rhythm to their shared words.

"It's getting late," Lila finally said, though she made no move to leave.

Serena glanced at her watch—the elegant Patek Philippe she'd worn faithfully for years but hadn't consulted once during dinner. Time, that relentless master of her Manhattan life, had become strangely elastic on the island. Especially with Lila.

"Stay," Serena said, the word emerging with quiet certainty. No hesitation, no careful calculation of implications. Just a simple truth: she wasn't ready for this night to end.

Lila met her gaze, something shifting in her expression. "Are you sure?"

In answer, Serena stood and extended her hand. When Lila's fingers interlaced with hers, the simple contact sent awareness cascading through her body, surprising in its intensity.

Leading Lila through the villa felt both deliberate and dreamlike. Physical encounters were usually conducted in hotel rooms or other people's spaces, maintaining the fortress of her private domain.

But tonight, all those careful boundaries seemed less important than the warmth of Lila's hand in hers, than the soft sound of their footsteps moving in rhythm across polished floors.

The bedroom lay at the end of a short hallway, double doors open to the night breeze that stirred gauzy curtains. Moonlight spilled across the king-sized bed, transforming ordinary space into something almost mythic.

At the threshold, Serena paused, suddenly aware of the significance in this simple act. She was inviting Lila not just into her bed again, but into a space she kept fiercely private. A vulnerability that went beyond physical intimacy.

"Second thoughts?" Lila asked softly, reading her hesitation.

"No," Serena said, turning to face her. "Just... recognizing the moment."

Lila's smile held understanding beyond words. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

They stepped into the room together, the air between them shifting, charging with anticipation that had been building since their first encounter in the midnight pool.

Desire, certainly—that had been present from the beginning—but now layered with connection that made it both more potent and more meaningful.

Serena had always approached physical intimacy with the same methodical precision she brought to business—a sequence to be mastered, a performance to be executed with skill if not passion.

Even with Rachel, she'd maintained a certain detachment, a part of herself always observing rather than simply experiencing.

But as she turned to Lila in the moonlit bedroom, something new overtook her. Not the calculated seduction she'd planned, but a genuine need to connect that surprised her with its intensity.