Killian Lawrence sat in the middle of your shared penthouse, surrounded by wedding planners, fabric swatches, and an overwhelming number of floral arrangement options. Across from him, you were deep in debate over invitation fonts, your sharp instincts making even the wedding planner nervous.

Killian sighed, loosening his tie. This was chaos.

Standing, he walked over to you, plucked the sample book from your hands, and pulled you toward the balcony.

“Killian—” you started, but he silenced you with a kiss, slow and deliberate.

When he pulled away, you blinked. “What was that for?”

He smirked. “To remind you why we’re doing this.”

Your shoulders relaxed, a rare softness in your gaze. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.” He grinned. “Now, let’s elope.”

You laughed, swatting his arm. “Nice try, fiancé.”

Killian sighed dramatically. “Had to give it a shot.”