Page 15 of Dark Christmas
“I am. And I secured a solid client today,” I respond.
She smiles, genuine and warm. “Congrats. That’s awesome. Do you enjoy what you do?”
I nod, keeping my response brief. “I do. It’s a good feeling, knowing you’re providing security for others.” I take another sip of my wine, hesitating slightly before adding, “It’s not too different from what I did before.”
I scold myself internally the second the words leave my mouth.
Careful.
I don’t talk about my past, and this isn’t the moment to start. I can feel her gaze on me, and I know she’s picking up on what I didn’t say.
“What did you do before?” she asks, the curiosity in her voice mixed with a hint of caution.
I meet her eyes, offering a slow, deliberate smile. “I was in a more... private kind of security. More personal.”
Her expression shifts to guarded intrigue. She’s smart, and she knows there’s more to the story. But for now, I leave it at that. Some truths aren’t meant to be shared so easily.
The warm light from the sunset pours through the windows, casting a soft glow on her face. It brings out the green in her eyes, making them almost hypnotic. I find myself momentarily transfixed by her, by the way she carries herself—stunning, even in her simplicity.
“So,” I ask, breaking the silence, “tell me about yourself, Amelia. Where are you from?”
She hesitates for a moment then says, “I’m from L.A. originally. Moved here after my parents passed.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, watching her reaction closely.
She nods, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “Thanks. It was a car accident. I was away at college when it happened.” She pauses, taking a sip of wine. “I guess that’s part of the reason why I came to San Francisco. A fresh start, you know?”
I can relate to her. “I know what that’s like. I lost my parents too. Illness took my mother, and my father followed soon after. It was like he couldn’t bear to live without her.”
Our eyes meet, and there’s a moment of quiet understanding between us. Loss, especially at an early age, leaves scars you can’t always see.
“Do you like the city?” I ask, steering the conversation toward lighter ground.
She brightens a little. “I love it here. There’s something about the energy, the mix of people, the way every neighborhood feels like its own world. It’s freeing.”
I lean back in my chair, intrigued by how much she’s opening up. “What did you do after your parents passed?”
She takes a breath. “They left me a small trust fund. Not enough to change my life, but enough to get by. I don’t have any family left, so I used the money to buy my home and a space for the bakery with my best friend. We opened the bakery on the first floor, and she and her husband live upstairs.” She smiles softly. “Claire’s my business partner. I handle the financial and marketing side of things, and I’m also writing my first novel.”
My eyebrows lift slightly at that. “A novel?”
Her face instantly flushes a deep red, and I sense I’ve stumbled onto something she hadn’t planned to share. Her lips twitch, like she’s debating how much more she wants to say.
“It’s a work in progress,” she admits, brushing a hand through her hair. “No details until it’s ready for publishing. If it ever gets there.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough. I won’t press for spoilers.”
She relaxes a little, but I can still see some anxiety in her eyes. She let a little secret slip, and that vulnerability only makes her more intriguing.
She grins, shifting the conversation back to me. “So, enough about me. You’re from Russia? What brought you here?”
It’s been so long since anyone’s asked that question, I’d almost forgotten the polished lies I’d crafted over the years. “I was part of a… family business,” I begin, my tone measured. “Over time, my focus shifted to cybersecurity, and I decided to go off on my own. I’ve always had a thing for technology.”
The truth, of course, is a bit darker, but she doesn’t need to know that.
I take another sip of wine, watching her reaction. She’s curious, but not suspicious. “Family businesses can be stifling,” I add, letting a trace of bitterness slip into my voice. “Controlling. After a while, it felt like too many strings attached.”
Her eyes flicker with understanding. “So, you cashed out and moved to San Francisco to start over?”