Kill for a Kiss (Song-Smith Standalone #2)

Prologue

Elle

The wedding reception is a show of sparkling elegance.

My gaze drifts over the scenery surrounding me.

Lanterns dangle, their golden glow spilling over tables dressed in ivory linens.

Dark red roses overflow from delicate vases, their petals velvety.

An orchestra performs, their musical strings weaving through the quiet murmur of guests exchanging pleasantries, sipping wine, and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres passed by gliding waiters.

Everything is curated to perfection, effortless and extravagant, as though the sunset itself had been rehearsed.

I take it all in, feeling more like an observer than a guest, like I’m standing just outside the untouchable, waiting for it to vanish the moment I blink.

And when I do blink, I forget what I was thinking about. Was there something on my mind?

I can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. I let the thought drift away, the way all my thoughts seem to lately.

The guests glitter in their couture, so polished that they don’t seem real. Luckily, the gracious host, Clo, lent me something that fits the illusion. Otherwise, I’d be exposed, too out of place.

The sun dips lower, casting its ethereal glow over the vineyard behind the mansion. I hear the faintest crash of waves under this cliffside. But the orchestra plays louder, the guests’ voices more pronounced than the ocean.

It’s the perfect place for a wedding. A perfect day for one too. August 8th. I’ve been tracking dates ever since the fog rolled in around my memories. But today feels different, more significant. It’s the eighth day of the eighth month. An auspicious choice for a wedding.

With Filipino and Korean blood—though I can’t remember which side is which—I kind of recall a thing or two about superstitions.

Particularly, the numbers. Eight is good luck, since its shape loops into infinity, they say.

Four is bad luck, something to do with death.

But here, in the States, thirteen is unlucky.

That’s what I know, off the top of my head. Four and thirteen should be avoided.

But aside from that, my memory’s been hazy, as if I’ve been drifting in and out of a lucid dream.

I can’t even remember how long it’s been like this.

At this point, it feels like forever. In the back of my mind, I feel memories hiding, ones that simply don’t want to crawl out.

I wonder why, yet nothing comes to mind.

The days have been spilling into each other like a wine glass that’s refilled so often, it may as well be a waterfall.

Maybe that metaphor comes to mind since I’m watching a waiter pour wine into a guest’s glass.

He asks for it to be filled to the brim, and the waiter’s smile falters, nervous as he obliges.

I watch the red wine dribble down the curve of the glass, a little spilling over before touching the guest’s fingers.

For some reason, this mundane thing stands out to me.

“Elle!”

My name slices through the haze. I turn slowly and see the bride, Kaye, waving at me, a blur of pink silk and sparkling joy charging across the manicured lawn. She’s luminous, all teeth and laughter, the embodiment of bridal glow.

I smile. Sometimes the gesture feels automatic to me, sometimes too practiced. But with Kaye, my lips relax naturally.

“You came,” she says, slipping her arm through mine. “I was starting to think I’d have to fake-laugh my way through this alone.”

She talks fast and easy, like champagne bubbles popping in the air.

And while she talks, I let my gaze trace the details of her look.

The soft curve of her lips glossed in rose, the subtle shimmer along her cheekbones, and the seams I stitched by hand to cinch the dress is just enough to fit her like a second skin.

I’m her stylist tonight. My job is to make her look like a dream. And I’d say she does, but she could do that all on her own. As the sun sets, the light makes her beauty gleam. But her words catch me. “You’re the only normal one here.”

Normal…if only she knew. If only I did.

The ocean breeze teases the ends of Kaye’s hair, curling them into loose waves. “It’s curling, isn’t it?” she sighs.

“Only a little,” I say.

“A little curl is a catastrophe,” she quips.

I don’t quite understand why she’s so determined to tame what’s already beautiful, but it’s not my place to argue. She’s the bride, my client, and the one everyone’s here to look at, so I reach for my bag. But before I can find the spray, Clo comes into view.

“There you are,” she says, gliding toward us. “Guests are beginning to wonder if the bride’s fled.”

“You know me,” Kaye says brightly. “Practically a flight risk in a fancy dress.”

Clo gives a fond look that doesn’t quite settle. They speak a little longer, but their voices flicker at the edges of my thoughts. I should stay grounded, be present, but their conversation is muffled.

The wind picks up again. Kaye’s hair keeps curling. I dig through my bag and find the small bottle of hairspray. It’s meant for Clo’s curls, but it’ll do. Kaye should be photo-ready, but now that I think of it…has anyone taken a photo tonight?

“Elle?” Clo’s voice is gentle but edged. When I glance up, her smile falters a little. “You’ve been working all day, haven’t you? Do you need a moment?”

I blink at her. All day?

Kaye seizes the moment, tugging my wrist. “Actually, I need to steal Elle to fix my hair. She’s so good at drawing out the pretty parts of people.”

“But I quite like the curls,” Clo says, touching a lock of Kaye’s gently. “Reminds me of Mimi, or rather, Naomi.” She turns to me. “Kaye’s mother.”

There’s a smile on Clo’s face that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“We were close once,” Clo adds.

Kaye smiles back, a bit dimmer.

I don’t ask. I haven’t seen the bride’s mother at this reception. I try to remember the last time I’ve seen mine. The thought grips at my chest, ever so slightly.

“Elle, darling, please take care of my brand new daughter-in-law.” Clo pats my back gently, her hand moving to Kaye’s. She nudges us both away.

I look around, considering where to take Kaye. But she pulls me toward the vineyard. It seems as good a place as any.

We move deeper into the rows. That’s when I notice something odd—how the wooden trellises are built too tall and too thick. The leafy tendrils seem to have been basketweaved, leaving every space filled. It’s as if they were built to be walls.

Glancing over my shoulder, I see the mansion’s ivory brick walls. The many rows in this vast vineyard seem to mirror the mansion’s sense of a fortress as if it’s hiding something.

I can’t see over the top of these rows of grapevines, only able to peek at the bottom where the grass is trimmed to the tee. I know I’m rather short, but…vineyards aren’t usually built like this, are they?

Once Kaye finds an adequate spot, I find myself able to hear the waves crash more clearly here.

I blink, letting her face settle in my vision.

Then I run my fingers through her hair lightly, not to disturb the waves too much.

The curls have gone wild at the ends. So that’s where I spray some saltwater, then scrunch them gently, shaping the chaos into more intentional strands.

Kaye’s delighted by the end of it, her eyes bright as she gazes into the compact mirror I hold for her. “Wow, you make it look so easy to style me. You’ll have to show me how to do it again sometime.”

I smile faintly, glad to have helped. Then the groom, Damon, appears behind me so swiftly I don’t notice him until his hand settles gently at the small of Kaye’s back. She beams up at him.

“Oh, my husband’s here,” she says, her tone light.

It’s an endearing sight, so much so that I can’t stop a wider smile from pulling at my lips.

Damon greets me with a charming smile of his own, offering his hand.

I take it, shaking it gently. I’ve heard plenty about him, since I work closely with Clo, but I suppose this is the first time I’m actually meeting him.

He’s been talking the whole time that I’ve been lost in thought, and I realize I’m blushing, embarrassed at how distracted I’ve been.

I dip my head, hoping to hide the flush in my cheeks.

I gamble on my next words. “It was my pleasure, Mr. Song-Smith. Kaye’s a natural beauty, so there really wasn’t much work to do. ”

Kaye grabs my hands, her grin wide. “We’re best friends now, do you realize that?”

Her husband chuckles. “Elle, would you mind if I stole my wife away for a moment?”

I blink, trying to gather myself. What was I doing here again?

I pull myself together, but the words tumble out before I can catch them. “Oh, goodness, of course! I didn’t mean to be rude. Excuse me.”

I turn, weighing my options. The vineyard? The coast? Or back to the reception? Not really minding where, I pick a direction and start walking.

As I move farther away, I hear Kaye’s teasing voice float behind me. “You just had to have me all to yourself, didn’t you?”

Damon’s laugh follows, warm and sweet. Their easy exchange makes my heart flutter. I wonder if I’ll ever feel that effortless ease between me and another. I wonder if I ever have. But I simply can’t seem to remember.