Seraphine
The black car rolled to the curb with a quiet purr, luxury that didn’t need to announce itself. Its silence was part of the statement.
Heads turned as the door eased open. One leg, then the other, stepped out. Caitlyn Kiramman emerged first, the hem of her midnight-blue dress catching the light like spilled ink. Behind her came a taller figure, broad-shouldered and maddeningly radiant.
Jayce Talis.
The young hostess at the entrance, maybe nineteen, twenty if she was lucky, nearly dropped her pen. She scrambled from behind the podium, posture faltering the second Jayce flashed her his signature half-smirk.
“Reservation under JT,” he said, relaxed as ever.
“Y-yes, Mr. Talis. Right this way,” she stammered.
Caitlyn caught the flicker of amusement in his eyes as he offered her his arm. She slipped hers through with practiced ease, her expression unreadable, save for the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.
“That was cruel,” she muttered under her breath.
“She’ll live,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair. “Might take a week to recover, though.”
They were led into a private room, high-ceilinged, overdecorated, and far too expensive for a casual lunch.
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Subtle as always.”
Jayce dropped into his chair with a grin. “Come on, Cait. We’ve earned a little extravagance.”
The waiter arrived just then, smoother than the hostess, though his eyes still flicked with recognition. He offered menus with a bow.
“Good afternoon. May I take your drink orders?”
“Glass of your best white,” Jayce said, not even glancing at the list.
“Just lemon water for me,” Caitlyn said, ignoring Jayce’s smirk.
The waiter nodded and slipped away like a ghost.
“You sure?” Jayce teased. “They’ve got a bottle in there older than half of Piltover.”
“I promised my parents I’d cut back.”
It had started two years ago, when everything Caitlyn thought was permanent had collapsed around her. Yet in the wreckage, Cassandra and Tobias Kiramman had done something unthinkable in their world: they reached out. Real support, not transactional. Not conditional.
She owed them. A little restraint, at least.
“How are they?” Jayce asked, tapping his fingers against the edge of the table. “Still training the next generation of sharpshooters?”
Caitlyn smirked. “Last I visited, they were outshooting them.”
Jayce chuckled. “Classic.”
The door opened again. Caitlyn’s posture stiffened as a third figure entered, petite, poised, pink curls falling in soft waves around her shoulders. No security. Civilian attire. But expensive. Valerane’s latest, if Caitlyn wasn’t mistaken.
Caitlyn’s hand instinctively shifted toward her jacket, empty now, of course, but muscle memory was hard to ignore.
“Ma’am,” she said coolly. “Wrong room.”
“Nope,” Jayce interrupted, far too casually. “I invited her.”
Caitlyn turned to him slowly.
“This is Seraphine,” he said. “Top physician in the country. And, yeah. She sings too. Kind of a polymath.”
Seraphine smiled, soft but confident. “It’s a pleasure, Caitlyn.”
Caitlyn offered a smile of her own, one polished to perfection. “All mine. Please, sit.”
She didn’t need to guess what this was anymore. Jayce had set her up. And the way he’d insisted on the dress over her usual dress pants? Obvious now.
The waiter returned, eyes briefly darting to the unexpected guest before smoothing his features.
“Would you like a menu, ma’am?”
“I’ll have what she’s having,” Seraphine said, nodding to Caitlyn.
The drinks arrived. Seraphine glanced at Caitlyn’s lemon water, then tilted her head, clearly curious.
“I’m cutting back,” Caitlyn said, sipping slowly. “Not great for the kidneys.”
Seraphine hummed. “That’s… unexpected. I read you preferred your whiskey neat.”
The edge in her tone wasn’t lost on Caitlyn.
Jayce leaned back with a grin. “See? Even your blind date did research.”
Caitlyn’s leg twitched beneath the table. She resisted the urge to kick him.
Seraphine was... prepared. Polished. Her charm had a quiet confidence, rehearsed but not artificial. The subtle elegance of someone who understood how to move through the upper echelons without leaving fingerprints.
The designer blouse. The sleek watch. The soft-spoken authority. She carried herself like someone who had been trained to make you believe she wasn’t trying at all.
But Caitlyn had seen the real thing. And Seraphine, despite her charm, wasn’t Maddie.
Still, she made the effort. Her questions were thoughtful, her tone disarming. Caitlyn responded with perfect civility, every word carefully measured, every smile calculated.
But never warm.
Eventually, Seraphine asked for Caitlyn’s number. Without hesitation, Caitlyn gave her one.
It was fake.
The meal wrapped up without ceremony. Outside, the city was painted in soft hues, gold and violet and the kind of lavender haze that came right before dusk. The moment felt like a painting. But it passed quickly.
“Lovely to meet you, Seraphine,” Caitlyn said as they exited, voice smooth as silk.
Seraphine nodded politely. “You two as well.”
She slipped into her car and disappeared into the glow of the evening traffic.