Page 34 of Vacation with the Ice Queen
"You're out late," he observed with the easy familiarity of island life, so different from Manhattan's careful boundaries.
"As are you," Serena replied, instinctively reaching for the professional tone that had served as her shield in countless board meetings.
The man smiled, setting his basket down. "The night jasmine only blooms after dark. Best time to collect it." He gestured toward the flowering vines cascading over a nearby trellis. "The day visitors never experience its scent."
Despite herself, Serena glanced toward the flowers. "It seems inefficient to harvest at night."
"Some things can't be rushed to meet a schedule. They have their own time." He studied her with unexpected directness. "Like healing."
Serena stiffened. Had Lila been discussing her with the staff? The thought sent a prickle of irritation up her spine.
"I'm not here for healing," she said curtly. "I'm here because my board insisted on a strategic retreat during a PR situation."
Rather than being put off by her tone, the man merely nodded. "The surface reason and the true reason aren't always the same thing."
Before she could formulate a suitably dismissive response, he bent down and plucked something from beside the path: a small, perfect shell that gleamed in the moonlight.
"The most interesting things often appear when we stop looking for them," he said, offering her the shell. "Especially on nighttime walks."
Serena hesitated, then accepted it, surprised by the smooth weight in her palm. The spiral caught the dim light, revealing iridescent colors beneath its creamy surface.
"Maika," he said, tapping his chest. "Head gardener. If you find yourself walking these paths again, the eastern section has night-blooming water lilies." He picked up his basket with a smile. "They're mathematically perfect. You might appreciate their symmetry."
With that cryptic comment, he continued down the path, leaving Serena alone with the shell in her hand and the unsettling feeling that he had somehow seen more of her true self in five minutes than most of her board members had in five years.
She slipped the shell into her pajama pocket, annoyed by the gesture even as she did it. Collecting shells was for children and tourists, not CEOs managing corporate crises.
Yet she didn't toss it aside. Like her unplanned walk and her barefoot state, the small token represented a deviation from her normal patterns that should have bothered her more than it did.
She continued along the winding path, drawn forward by something that compelled her from deep within. The gardens gradually opened to glimpses of the ocean between breaks in the foliage. The sound of waves grew louder, calling to her with their rhythmic persistence.
Ahead, lights twinkled—not the subtle path lighting, but something more substantial. As the path curved around a final bend, Serena caught sight of the resort's main pool area, illuminated by underwater lights and subtle fixtures hidden among the landscaping.
The infinity pool stretched before her, its still surface reflecting stars and crescent moon like a mirror laid upon the earth. Beyond it, the dark ocean extended to the horizon, the boundary between water and sky almost indistinguishable in the night.
For a moment, Serena simply stood at the edge of the gardens, taking in the scene. The expansive terrace was deserted, lounge chairs empty, poolside bar closed for the night. The solitude was unexpected; in New York, privacy was a luxury rarely experienced outside her penthouse.
Here, it felt like the entire world had disappeared, leaving only this moment, this place, this strange bubble of time outside her normal existence.
The water drew her forward, its blue-lit depths promising something she couldn't articulate. Without conscious decision, Serena found herself moving toward the pool, leaving the shelter of the garden path.
Her reflection fragmented across the water's surface with each step. For once, she didn't analyze or calculate or strategize. She simply moved, pulled by an impulse stronger than her habitual restraint.
For the first time since landing on this island, Serena felt something unexpected breaking through her carefully maintained control—a whisper of freedom, of possibility, of a self she'd forgotten could exist.
With that unfamiliar feeling guiding her, she stepped toward the water's edge, leaving the garden path and her predictable patterns behind.
Serena paused at the edge of the infinity pool, struck by the perfection of the way the pool's boundary seemed to merge seamlessly with the horizon and ocean, water stretching endlessly into darkness.
The designer in her appreciated the engineering required to create such an illusion. The woman emerging beneath her carefully constructed exterior felt something else entirely—a pull toward the water that had nothing to do with analysis and everything to do with pure, uncomplicated desire.
She glanced around. The poolside cabanas stood empty, lounge chairs were neatly arranged for tomorrow's sun-seekers, and the bar area was dark and still. The entire space belonged to her alone, a private kingdom of water and moonlight.
It was nearly midnight. The chance of encountering other guests was minimal, especially in this exclusive resort where privacy was the ultimate luxury. Still, Serena performed a final scan of the surroundings, the habitual caution of a woman whose image was a carefully maintained asset.
Satisfied with her solitude, she approached the pool's edge, kneeling to trail her fingers through the water. The temperature surprised her—not cool, but warm. Balance without compromise.
On impulse, she slipped off her expensive watch—the Patek Philippe that had been a gift to herself when Frost Innovations reached its first billion in valuation. She placed it carefully on a nearby table, the small act of removing her timekeeper symbolic in ways she wasn't ready to examine.
