Rhys leaves the café . Outside, he finds Seraphine waiting by his car, leaning against it like she owns the night.
She acts calm, but her eyes show she's on edge.
She asks him:
"What did Kevin say to you?"
Rhys realizes she's watching him more closely than he thought.
When he pushes her for answers, she gives only one cryptic line:
"Just stay away from him… for your own good."
Then she disappears into a black car.
This raises the stakes instantly.
Rhys didn't even remember making the decision to follow her—his hands moved before his mind did. All he knew was that Seraphine was driving away, and every instinct inside him told him not to let her go alone.
He expected her to head back to the city, maybe to some private mansion or hidden penthouse. But instead…
her car rolled deeper and deeper into the outskirts, where the streetlights disappeared and silence became louder than the engine.
Finally, her car stopped—right in the middle of an old countryside bridge, surrounded by nothing but wind, water, and wide open sky.
Rhys stepped out quietly.
Seraphine was already standing at the edge, looking down at the river below. The moonlight reflected on her face, softening the sharpness in her eyes he had seen earlier.
Without turning, she asked softly:
"Do you like it?"
A pause.
"Isn't it so serene here… standing in peace?"
Rhys came to stand beside her, unsure whether she wanted company or silence, but she didn't push him away.
She never did.
He didn't know if she brought him here intentionally, or if she simply expected him to follow—but somehow, she always led him.
And he always came.
She never fails to surprise me, he thought.
Every time he tried to understand her, she showed a different side—another layer, another secret, another piece of a puzzle only she seemed to control.
It wasn't just attraction.
It was… gravity.
And standing on that bridge, with the wind brushing past them and the river echoing beneath their feet, Rhys had a strange feeling:
Whatever Seraphine was hiding…
whatever she was running from…
whatever danger sat behind her soft voice—
he was already knee-deep in it.
And he wasn't sure he wanted to get out.
"I like you," she said.
Just like that.
Soft, careless, like confessing the weather.
And everything around them fell completely silent.
Rhys froze—not because of her words, but because of how easily she said them.
"No," he replied quietly.
Seraphine blinked, confusion flickering for the first time.
"Not like this," he added, his voice controlled but firm. "Not until you trust me enough."
She tilted her head, and a slow chuckle escaped her lips.
A dangerous, amused, too-knowing kind of chuckle.
"Cute."
Her whisper brushed against him like wind.
Rhys hated that it made his heartbeat stumble.
He hated that she always carried this strange, effortless confidence like she knew the ending of a story he was still stuck at the beginning of.
Seraphine stepped closer, the hem of her dress grazing his thigh as she looked over the river again.
"I guess you already understand the Kevin thing," she said, voice suddenly calm. "I'm not interested."
He didn't speak.
Her hair danced gently with the breeze.
"Kevin is a good guy," she continued with a faint shrug. "But I can't end up like that."
Rhys's brows pulled together.
"Like what?"
She finally turned to him—and it wasn't her usual playful expression.
It wasn't cold either.
Just tired.
And he had never seen her tired.
"Trapped," she said simply.
The word echoed across the empty bridge.
Rhys didn't know what to do.
Didn't know if he should comfort her, question her, or stay quiet.
He had never felt so off-balance around someone.
She liked him.
She trusted him.
She didn't trust him.
She was asking him to fall for her.
She was pushing him away.
She was pulling him closer.
Seraphine was a contradiction wrapped in beauty and secrets—and Rhys hated how badly he wanted to unravel her.
But all he managed to get out was:
"Seraphine… what are you really doing?"
Her eyes flickered—not fear, not guilt, but something far more dangerous.
A truth she wasn't ready to give.
"You know the party…" Seraphine said suddenly.
Rhys looked at her. Her tone had shifted again—lighter, teasing, but carrying something sharp underneath.
"You saw him," she continued. "How passionate he was."
Rhys froze.
He instantly knew exactly who she meant.
Exactly what moment she was referring to.
His jaw tightened.
Seraphine's eyes softened just a little.
"Although nothing happened," she added, her gaze on the river. "Apart from what you saw."
The wind blew between them, cold and too honest.
Rhys didn't respond.
Because now he was thinking—really thinking.
Why was she bringing this up?
Why mention Kevin's reaction?
Why say 'passionate' like she knew exactly what kind of effect that had on him?
It wasn't jealousy she was aiming for.
It wasn't guilt either.
It felt like she was giving him a piece of something.
A clue—but not the full picture.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
This… this wasn't enough.
This wasn't the complete story.
And Rhys hated incomplete things.
She glanced at him, noticing the way he'd fallen into silence.
"Don't think too much," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "It's not that deep."
But Rhys knew something was off.
Way off.
Because the way she said it…
The way she avoided looking at him after…
The way she suddenly leaned forward against the railing, letting the wind swallow half her expression—
It all told him the opposite.
It was deep.
And she was running out of ways to hide it.
He stepped closer, voice low.
"Seraphine," he said, "what exactly are you trying to tell me?"
She didn't answer.
Not for a long moment.
Her fingers traced the cold metal of the railing, slow and distracted.
Then, softly:
"Some people look passionate," she murmured, "when they're trying to hide something else."
The weight of her words dropped like a stone between them.
Rhys felt his chest tighten.
Hazel.
Kevin.
The blind date.
Her sudden need for Rhys to fall for her.
This bridge.
Her confessions.
Everything—
It all twisted together into something darker, something he still didn't understand.
And all Rhys could think was:
Why does it feel like she isn't talking about Kevin anymore?
Rhys kept his eyes on her, the wind brushing past them as the river shimmered below.
"Seraphine," he said slowly, "you keep giving me half the pieces and expecting me to build the whole picture."
She sighed, almost tired, like carrying a weight no one else could see.
"I don't want you to build the whole picture," she whispered. "I just want you to stay long enough to understand it."
He blinked. That wasn't the answer he expected.
She continued, leaning on the cold railing, her voice softer than usual.
"Kevin is… familiar. Predictable. Someone chosen for me because it's convenient for everyone. I don't want convenient. I don't want arranged. I don't want something that looks good on a paper."
Her eyes shifted to him.
"Don't you understand? I wanted to choose something… someone… that felt real."
Rhys exhaled, long and heavy.
"And your way of showing that," he murmured, "was dragging me into whatever this is?"
She looked at him, offended for a split second.
"I didn't drag you anywhere. You followed."
He opened his mouth but stopped.
Because it was true.
Every time she moved, he followed. Even now.
She pushed her hair behind her ear and turned away from him, staring at the river again.
"Maybe you hate me now," she said. "Maybe you think I'm deceitful or manipulative or whatever you imagined last night."
Her voice shook a little but she held herself straight.
"But I swear on everything I have… I never tried to hurt you."
Rhys took one slow step closer until they were almost shoulder to shoulder.
"Then tell me," he said, voice calm but firm, "what are you really doing?"
Silence.
Just the river.
Just the wind.
Just her breath.
Then—she gave the smallest smile.
"Something stupid," she whispered. "Something dangerous. Something I shouldn't do alone."
She turned to him fully.
"And you… you are the only person who sees through me. Even when you shouldn't."
Rhys swallowed, unsure whether it was a compliment or another warning.
"Then let me in," he said quietly.
Her eyes softened, but she shook her head.
"Not yet."
She stepped back, brushing her shoulder against his as she walked past him toward her car.
"But soon, Rhys Hayes," she said without turning back.
"You'll know everything. Whether you want to or not."
She left him on the bridge, staring at the fading taillights, mind spinning faster than the river's current.
Seraphine CALDER ....