Page 43 of Meant for Mayhem

And somehow, I meant it even more now.

Her smile widened. “I know.”

The soft chime of the elevator echoed through the penthouse, and we both turned toward it. A moment later, Jari rounded the corner, pushing a luggage cart full of the tote bins I’d packed my life into.

I shot to my feet. “Jari, you don’t have to do that.”

He kept walking without so much as breaking stride.

“At least let me help.”

A dismissive wave over his shoulder was the only answer I got.

Helena smiled beside me. “Don’t bother arguing. The men in this family are better with actions than words.”

“I’ve noticed that.” I trailed after him anyway, more out of guilt than hope.

He disappeared down the hallway, stopping at the last door before nudging it open with his shoulder. One by one, the heavy totes disappeared inside.

My steps slowed.

Mikko had told me his guest bedroom was occupied, but I hadn’t truly considered the implications of what that meant. But Jari wasn’t carrying my things into a guest room like I had at the Conway’s house. He wasn’t even asking where I’d like them. He simply put them where a wife’s belongings would go.

The master bedroom.

Mikko’s bedroom.

Tonight, after Leena and his parents were asleep, there would be no buffer between us.

Just me and Mikko, sharing a bedroom.

Sharing a bed.

Heat crept up my neck before I could stop it, realizing how much I’d underestimated how difficult it would be to sell this whole married thing.

I went back to the living room, not sure what else to do.

Jari stepped back into the hallway a few minutes later, dusting his hands together like carrying every single one of my belongings was no more taxing than taking out the trash. “Done.”

Before I could thank him, Mikko walked out of Leena’s bedroom across the hall and eased her door shut behind him. Judging by the way his gaze flicked toward his bedroom before settling on me, I had a feeling we were both thinking the same thing.

Jari put the luggage cart back by the elevator, then walked over to Helena, grabbing the handles on the back of her chair.

She reached out and squeezed my hand. “Goodnight, kulti.”

“Night.”

Jari wheeled Helena toward a separate hallway, the two of them murmuring quietly in Finnish. A moment later, the door clicked shut behind them, leaving the penthouse unnervingly silent.

Mikko hadn’t moved.

Neither had I.

For someone who’d willingly stood beside him in a courthouse only a few hours ago, the fifteen feet between us felt impossible. I forced one foot in front of the other, each step carrying me farther from the safety of pretending this was all business and closer to whatever being married was supposed to look like.

Mikko waited until I reached him before silently stepping aside, giving me room to enter his bedroom first.

Like the rest of the penthouse, his bedroom looked like it belonged in a Nordic design magazine—pale wood furniture, clean lines, and soft, neutral textiles. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one wall, sheer curtains already pulled closed enough to soften the lights from the city below without hiding the mountains beyond.