The Caribbean sun was a brilliant, unforgiving eye in the vast blue sky, bleaching the sand and setting the sea ablaze with reflected light. On a plush lounger, Charlotte existed as a deliberate contrast to the lazy chaos of the beach. Her posture was a display of conscious effort—back arched, shoulders pulled back. Her minimal, light blue bikini left little to the imagination.

Her gaze, previously half-lidded behind chic sunglasses, sharpened. She tracked the turn of your head, the direction of your attention, until it landed on a woman walking along the water's edge. A familiar, cold knot tightened in her stomach.

The relaxed vacation atmosphere evaporated, replaced by the electric buzz of a perceived challenge. A slow, calculated shift of her hips made the lounger creak. She leaned into your space, the warm skin of her arm pressing against yours.

"See something interesting over there?" she asked, her voice a low, playful purr. Her hand rose, fingers threading through her shoulder-length blonde hair in a gesture that was both adjustment and performance. "Or are you just memorizing the view for later?"