Page 37 of Kill for a Kiss

I look ahead as the coastal highway stretches out in a golden blur. The air inside the car is…charged now, laced into every glance and word. “You two are perfect,” Clo says.

Her voice cuts through, sounding absolute. In my mind, her words take the shape of a web, all connected. Clo’s praise wraps around me, warm and settling. She’s pleased, and that means I’m doing well. I breathe in deeply, my pulse steady but heavy, thick with something I can’t name. I don’t look at her, but I feel it. Clo’s approval wraps around me like a silken embrace I want to stay in.

Stan chuckles beside me. “Hear that, babe? You and me—perfect.”

I should brush it off like he’s just being silly again. But I don’t. Instead, I simply smile.

***

We glide down the winding road, the world outside bleeding into a blur of cliffs and high noon sunlight. Waves crash far below, the ocean endless, glowing where the sky kisses the horizon. Then the venue appears, like a magical setting imagined. Perched high above the ocean, its white stone façade is softened by ivy that clings, winding toward balcony arches. The terrace opens to a sweeping view of water and sky, the linen-draped tables set neatly, glass catching the light like crystal tears.

The moment I step out of the car, the wind lifts the edge of my shirt. Beside me, Stan stretches leisurely as he takes in the view before turning to me.

“You look like you just walked into a fairytale,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips.

He offers his arm, and I take it without thinking. Ahead of us, Clo walks forward, already in conversation with the venue owner. Her voice is all grace and persuasion, weaving words about exclusivity and plans.

I should be listening, but Stan leans closer. “Careful, Elle,” he whispers. “I might get used to you holding onto me like this.”

I scoff softly, but the way his fingers trace lazy circles against my knuckles makes my heart race.

“You don’t seem to mind,” he adds.

I don’t. His presence makes me lose track of my thoughts.

He leans down slightly, his breath tickling my ear. “You’re blushing again.”

I stiffen. “Am I…?”

“You are,” he whispers, laughing.

I grip tighter, as if that could steady my racing heart.

“God, Elle.” His voice is rougher now.

I can’t respond. He’s got me too flustered.

Clo keeps talking, but then, for a brief moment, she glances overher shoulder. Her eyes settle on us, on the space between Stan and me that barely exists. Then she smiles, graceful and approving. Warmth floods my chest, heavier this time. I shouldn’t feel this ripple of pride blooming just because she’s pleased, but I do.

The venue owner guides us deeper into the space. Stan and I follow, still arm in arm. The halls are wide, glowing with afternoon light. We’re shown table arrangements, a flourish of draped fabric, and every floral centerpiece. It all seems carefully curated, romantic, and purposeful.

That’s when I realize that this isn’t simply some beautiful place. It’s a wedding venue. I blink, slowing slightly. I glance at Stan beside me, noticing how naturally he moves with me, how in-sync our strides are despite the size of him. I don’t need to look in a mirror to know what we must look like.

Stan leans in. “You realize what this place is for, don’t you?”

I swallow, but before I can answer, the venue owner’s voice slides in. “Yes, the entire design is meant to enhance intimacy. From the golden hour in the grand hall to the lantern path at dusk, it’s meant to make love feel inevitable.”

I glance at Stan again. He’s already looking at me again. His smirk curves slowly, like he’s reading every thought I’m trying not to have. “Inescapable, even,” he says.

The venue owner chuckles. “Precisely. Couples who visit often say they feel it in the air. That something about this place makes falling in love feel effortless, natural, even destined.”

Clo gestures ahead to a terrace framed by stone arches and the crashing ocean beyond. “Come.” My feet follow her simple command.

A table waits for us there, lined with wine bottles and a carefully arranged charcuterie board, like a page torn from a high-end lifestyle magazine.

Stan whistles low under his breath. “Okay, this is definitely social media worthy.”

I laugh, the sound slipping out before I can help it. Clo chuckles, pleased. “I thought you’d appreciate it. My new line is prepared for tasting. I wanted you both to experience it with the venue’s most popular pairings.”