Page 47

LILA

L ila woke slowly, her hand reaching across empty sheets still warm from Serena's body.

The disorienting moment of opening her eyes in an unfamiliar room was followed by the gradual awareness that she was alone.

She blinked at the sunlight streaming through the villa's massive windows, casting everything in bright morning clarity.

The sounds of Serena moving quietly in another room drifted to her, deliberately soft as if trying not to wake her. Lila lay still, processing the emotions washing through her—joy from the night before, apprehension at the silence now. The familiar ache of uncertainty settled in her stomach.

When had intimacy become so complicated?

With Sophie, Lila had always known where she stood—giving too much while receiving too little.

But with Serena, the equation kept shifting.

Last night had been... transcendent. Not just physically, but the way Serena had truly let her in, sharing vulnerabilities and desires with surprising openness.

And now? The quiet movements beyond the bedroom door felt measured and contained, as if Serena was already rebuilding the walls that had temporarily fallen.

Lila sat up, wrapping the silky sheet around herself, suddenly feeling exposed in ways that had nothing to do with her nakedness.

Her clothes were neatly folded on a chair nearby, arranged with a precision she hadn't used when shedding them the night before.

The small gesture spoke volumes. Serena had already been up, organizing, controlling her environment.

Her reflection caught in the wall mirror—honey-blonde hair tousled from sleep and lovemaking, a visible mark on her collarbone where Serena's mouth had been particularly enthusiastic. She looked like exactly what she was: a woman caught between desire and uncertainty.

Lila swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her toes curling against the cool tile floor. The grounding sensation helped center her spiraling thoughts. Whatever was happening with Serena, whatever shifts had occurred during the night, she would face it directly. No hiding, no pretending.

That's what had gone wrong with Sophie—too many unspoken truths between them, too many compromises made in silence. She wouldn't repeat that pattern, even if confrontation meant risking the fragile connection they'd built.

She reached for her clothes, the simple act of dressing grounding her further. Her fingers brushed against the small shell in her pocket—Tomasi's gift with its healed crack. A reminder that broken places could mend stronger than before.

Taking a deep breath, Lila moved toward the bedroom door, ready to face whatever awaited her on the other side—whether it was the open, passionate Serena from last night or the guarded CEO who kept everyone at a carefully calibrated distance.

The answer, she suspected, would determine everything that followed.

Lila stepped into the villa's main room, sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the ocean like a living painting. The space smelled faintly of coffee and the tropical flowers from last night's dinner, still arranged perfectly on the dining table.

Serena sat at the terrace table, already dressed in crisp linen pants and a sleeveless blouse, her laptop open before her.

Her fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, that familiar focus etched into every line of her body.

Her hair, still damp from a shower, had been pulled back into its usual style, silver streaks catching the morning light.

The transformation was jarring. This wasn't the woman who had whispered desperate confessions against Lila's skin last night. This was CEO Frost, armored and ready for battle.

"Good morning," Lila said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Serena looked up, her expression carefully neutral. "Good morning." She glanced at her watch, a calculated gesture that made something in Lila's chest tighten. "I ordered breakfast. It should arrive shortly."

"Thanks." Lila moved toward the table, noticing how Serena subtly angled her laptop screen away to protect her screen and maintain the barrier between them. "Sleep well?"

"Adequately." The clipped response hung between them, so different from the passionate words that had filled this space hours before.

Lila took the seat across from Serena, the distance between them suddenly more than just physical.

A resort staff member arriving with fresh towels provided a momentary reprieve from the tension.

Serena immediately shifted into professional courtesy, thanking him with practiced politeness before returning to her cool silence.

"You've been up awhile," Lila observed, noticing the coffee cup beside Serena's laptop, the neat stack of papers already covered in annotations.

"There’s been another crisis in New York," Serena replied, her voice taking on that familiar business tone. "Walter's attempting to undermine the security architecture my team developed. It’s a very transparent power move, but it’ll be effective with certain board members."

The wall had fully materialized now, and work had become both a familiar shield and escape route.

Lila understood the pattern all too well. Last night had been too much, too real, too vulnerable. So Serena had retreated to the battlefield she knew best, where emotions were liabilities and control was paramount.

Breakfast arrived, an elaborate spread that under other circumstances would have delighted Lila.

Fresh tropical fruits arranged in perfect spirals, warm pastries releasing buttery aromas, fresh-squeezed juices in crystal glasses.

Serena barely glanced at the food, offering a perfunctory "thank you" to the server before returning to her screen.

"You should eat something," Lila said, serving herself a slice of dragon fruit.

"I'll grab something later." Serena's fingers continued their relentless dance across the keyboard. "These reports won't analyze themselves."

The familiar excuse—work before basic needs—was another brick in the wall being reconstructed between them.

Lila felt a surge of déjà vu. How many mornings had she sat across from Sophie, watching her prioritize casework over connection?

The parallel was impossible to ignore, though the details differed.

Where Sophie had been dismissive, Serena was simply.

.. absent. Physically present but emotionally retreated to some distant, safer shore.

"Serena." Lila set down her fork, the gentle click against fine china somehow commanding attention where words might fail. "What's happening here?"

Serena’s piercing blue eyes finally met hers, something unreadable flickering in their depths. "What do you mean?"

"This." Lila gestured between them, at the invisible barrier that had materialized overnight. "Last night we were?—"

"Last night was wonderful," Serena interrupted, her voice softening briefly before that professional mask slid back into place. "But I have responsibilities that can't wait. The board meeting is in six days, and Walter's making significant moves."

Six days. Not seven anymore. The countdown continued, each tick bringing them closer to inevitable separation.

"I understand you have responsibilities," Lila said carefully. "That's not what I'm asking about."

Serena's fingers finally stilled on the keyboard. "What are you asking, then?"

"Why you're hiding behind your laptop instead of talking to me."

Serena's jaw tightened, that tiny muscle jump that Lila had come to recognize as discomfort. "I'm not hiding. I'm working."

"You can do both simultaneously," Lila replied. "I've seen CEOs manage it before."

The gentle challenge hung between them. Serena closed her laptop with deliberate care, folding her hands atop it like a business negotiation.

"You're right. I apologize." The words were perfect and the tone was measured, but something essential remained withdrawn. "I received some concerning emails this morning. It's put me in a... strategic mindset."

"I see." Lila sipped her tea, studying Serena over the rim of the cup. The woman before her was performing perfectly—polite, attentive, reasonable—while keeping her true thoughts locked safely away.

The breakfast stretched between them, every bite accompanied by conversation that felt like walking through a minefield. Pleasant weather observations. Innocuous comments about the food. Safe topics that demanded nothing and revealed less.

With each passing moment, Lila's heart sank deeper. The Serena from last night—passionate, vulnerable, real—had vanished with the darkness, replaced by this pristine simulation that looked like Serena but held none of her fire.

Whatever walls had fallen in the moonlight were being rebuilt in the harsh clarity of morning, brick by careful brick.

The breaking point came with the ping of Serena's phone—another message, another crisis, another reason to retreat further from the moment they were sharing. Or pretending to share.

"I should get back to my cottage," Lila said, setting down her napkin beside a half-eaten papaya that had lost its sweetness along with her appetite. "I have clients this afternoon."

"Of course." Serena's relief was almost palpable, though expertly disguised behind a mask of professional regret. "I have calls scheduled anyway."

The ease with which they both accepted the excuse made something crack inside Lila's chest. This careful dance of polite distance felt too familiar, the opening steps of a pattern she'd sworn not to repeat.

She stood, gathering her bag with deliberate movements. The terrace suddenly felt stifling despite the ocean breeze, the tropical paradise transformed into an elaborate stage set where they performed the roles of casual lovers without the messy complications of genuine feeling.