Page 39 of Meant for Mayhem

He got out of the car and circled it.

I assumed he was headed for Leena, so the moment my door opened, I sat there slack-jawed and surprised by the simple gesture. He held out one big hand, the golden ring catching the overhead light, reminding me how crazy this situation was.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat, placing my hand in his and climbed out of the car.

“Ready?” he asked.

I was too busy trying to calm myself down, so I gave up on words and nodded instead.

He dropped my hand, then got Leena out of the car and paused, waiting for me. Again, his hand came out, and I put mine is his. Except this time, his fingers threaded through mine so naturally it took me a second to realize I hadn’t hesitated.

We’d agreed this marriage was practical. Temporary.

Stability for Leena.

A free roof over my head.

Nothing more.

So why did holding my husband’s hand feel so alarmingly right?

9

My heart rate sped up with each floor we climbed, the elevator moving quickly to the top of my condo tower. At the end of last season, I’d debated selling this place and moving out to the suburbs, but that had taken a back burner to everything else lately, especially since this place was already outfitted to suit Mom’s needs.

“Jesus, how high are we going?” Shannon muttered as she watched the numbers ticking by.

“I have the penthouse.”

When her hand twitched in mine, I looked down at her. “Are you afraid of heights?”

She shook her head, but the bead of sweat gathering along her hairline told a different story.

“I grew up at altitude. What a dumb question.”

Leena wiggled out of my hold, and I set her down at my feet before turning back to Shannon.

“That’s not the same. Are you afraid of heights, wife?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But that’s what you are, wife.”

She rolled her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders eased.

When the elevator finally stopped, I gave her hand another squeeze. Whether it was for her or me, I wasn’t sure, but I liked the feeling of her hand in mine, and I had no idea how the next few minutes would go.

The doors slid open, revealing the wall of windows wrapping around my apartment. Shannon’s gaze swept across the skyline stretching beneath us before dropping to the floor, her grip shifting again.

I reached over to the control panel beside the entryway and pressed a button. Instantly, the motorized shades drifted down in a quiet sweep, replacing the endless view of Denver with soft linen until the room felt comfortably enclosed instead of suspended over the city.

“Better?” I asked.

She looked from the windows to me, her brow knitting together. “Yes. Thanks.”

My daughter had no such reservations, darting across the foyer, pink sneakers squeaking against the hardwood.

“Leena?” Mom’s voice floated through the apartment. “Where’s my baby?”