Page 31 of Dark Christmas

She looks at me, frowning. “How long are we talking about?”

“Maybe a couple of weeks. Just until things cool down.”

She balks, shaking her head. “I need to be at the bakery every day, Melor. I have to do deposits, inventory, bake, keep things running. I can’t just leave Claire in a lurch like that. She’s about to have a baby.”

I feel my jaw tighten. “You’ll have to tell Claire you have a family emergency. That’s the easiest way.”

Her eyes flash, and she crosses her arms. “I don’t have any family. Claire’s the closest thing to family I’ve got. I’m not about to lie to my best friend like that.”

That doesn’t sit well with me. “Anybody that you tell the truth to about what’s going on will be in danger. This isn’t a game, Amelia. If you talk, and the wrong people find out, it won’t just be your life on the line.”

Her chin tilts up disobediently. “I’ll tell her the truth, but I’ll make sure she keeps it a secret. Claire wouldn’t say a word if she knew what was really going on. She deserves to know. I will not keep her in the dark.”

I stare at her, frustration building. I don’t like this. One person knowing is one too many. But she’s not budging, and something about the way she’s standing there, arms crossed like she’s already made her decision, tells me I won’t win this fight easily.

“Fine,” I say, my voice edged with warning. “But if you’re going to tell her, you better make damn sure she doesn’t tellanyoneelse. No slipups.”

She sighs reluctantly. “Okay,” she mutters.

A wave of relief washes over me. “You made the right call.”

“I need to pack more stuff,” she says, already moving toward the bedroom.

“Go ahead.”

As she disappears into the other room, something unfamiliar settles over me. I’m glad she’s coming back, not just for the security aspect, though knowing she’ll be safe, like she’s locked in a bank vault and untouchable, is a relief.

But there’s more to it than that. I catch myself thinking about what it’ll be like to have her there, in my space. The idea of getting to know her, spending time with her— it shouldn’t thrill me, but it does. I barely know this woman, yet the thought of her being close to me feels right.

Before I can think too much about it, she reappears, lugging two big bags with her. I step forward, grabbing them with one hand and reaching out with the other.

“Time to go.”

She looks at me for a moment, then takes my hand without a word.

Chapter 17

Amelia

Every noise in this damn house sounds like someone creeping up to get me.

I’m in the guest bedroom, lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling, every creak and gust of wind sounds like it’s my final warning.

The events of tonight are playing on repeat in my head like some twisted true crime episode I can’t turn off.

I’m scared.

Are there men out there right now looking for me? Stalking the streets, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and do who knows what? Are they watching my house? The thought makes my skin crawl, and no matter how many times I tell myself that Melor’s house is a fortress, that I’m safe here, I can’t shake the anxiety that is gnawing away at me.

I roll over, pulling the covers tightly around me, but sleep will not come. Not tonight. Not with all this uncertainty swirling around in my head.

I can’t just lie here, so I get up and make my way over to one of the windows that overlooks Melor’s garden, where rows of perfectly manicured bushes, flowers that probably cost more than my mortgage, and soft lights cast a ghostly glow over everything.

The second my eyes land on the garden, my mind betrays me. I flash back to the two of us out there earlier, and damn, it hits me like a truck. The way I’d ridden him hard, the rush of power, the heat between us. I close my eyes, letting myself slip back into that moment for just a second, how good it felt, how wild it was.

Before I can get too carried away, I shake my head, snapping back to reality. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? Here I am, my life literally on the line, dragged into some insane world I don’t understand, and all I can think about is sex?

I turn back to the room, the silver moonlight spilling across the floor. It’s quiet, too quiet, and all I can hear are my own thoughts spiraling. I’m starting to get it—my life is about to change forever. I can feel it hanging in the air, but it still hasn’t fully sunk in. Maybe it hasn’t hit me yet because it’s just too unreal, like I’m living in someone else’s twisted fantasy.