3
It was aftereight by the time Samara guided her car through the high iron gates that guarded her expansive estate.
The photo shoot had run longer than scheduled, but everything had gone really well. So she’d left work feeling productive, accomplished and energized.
Marcus would definitely benefit from her good mood, she mused wickedly as the long driveway curved up the rise to reveal her home.
The imposing 8,000 square foot house was three elegant stories of brick and stone. It sprawled over ten lushly manicured acres with huge, flowering trees. With the house and grounds festooned in sparkling lights, Samara felt like she was traveling through a Christmas fairyland.
The thought made her smile as she steered her silver Beemer along the sweeping curve of the driveway toward the large detached garage, which was connected to the main house by a porte-cochère.
She pressed a button on her steering wheel to open the garage. It housed a Bentley Flying Spur, a Cadillac Escalade and a rare Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren Mansory Renovatio—one of Marcus’s favorite toys.
Samara parked next to the Bentley, turned off the ignition and grabbed her leather attaché case off the passenger seat. Before she could climb out of the car, Marcus was right there opening her door. Even after nine years of marriage, he still opened doors and pulled out chairs for her, a Southern gentleman through and through.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured, helping her out of the car.
“Hey, yourself,” Samara purred, looping her free arm around his neck as he pulled her close.
Her husband was six foot four with midnight-dark bedroom eyes, chiseled cheekbones, a square jaw and the most sinfully sexy mouth. His skin was decadently dark and smoother than the finest Belgian chocolate. He’d showered and changed into a white cotton T-shirt and black drawstring lounge pants, a casual ensemble that emphasized his impossibly broad shoulders, muscular chest, lean hips and long legs.
He lowered his head and gave Samara a deep, lingering kiss that sent her head spinning into orbit. She kissed him back, sighing with pleasure as his strong fingers curled around her nape to gently massage her neck.
As they pulled apart, Marcus relieved Samara of her attaché case as she smiled up at him.
“I see you survived another Daddy’s Day outing,” she teased. “How’d everything go?”
“Great,” he said with a grin. “The kids had a blast. Wore themselves out.”
“Wore you out too, I’m sure.” Samara grinned. “Where are they?”
“I put Milan to bed. The boys are watching a movie, but they’re fading fast.”
Samara chuckled. “I bet.”
Arms wrapped around each other’s waist, husband and wife strolled through the porte-cochère to enter the house through a side door. Together they walked down the arched hallway that opened up into a round foyer that was three stories high with a gleaming marble floor and a Swarovski crystal chandelier dangling overhead.
Arched columns graced the entrance to the richly appointed living room. It was decorated for the holidays with groups of ruby red poinsettias and pine boughs adorning tables and the fireplace mantel. A towering balsam fir centered in front of the windows had the whole house smelling like Christmas. The enormous tree boasted an impressive assortment of decorations ranging from glittery ornaments to handcrafted keepsakes made by the children, each with a story to tell.
At the center of the foyer was a grand curved staircase. The upper landing split off into two directions that led to separate wings of the house.
After setting down Samara’s attaché case, Marcus followed her up the staircase to the top floor. When they reached the doorway to the home theater, Samara couldn’t help smiling at the sight that greeted them.
There were several rows of black leather recliner chairs facing a giant projection screen built into the wall. Matthew and Malcolm sat in the front row separated by one seat. They were watchingX-Men: Days of Future Past. It was one of their favorite movies, but Samara could see that they were struggling to keep their eyes open while the family dog dozed on the floor between them.
Two years ago, Marcus and Samara had surprised the twins with a puppy for Christmas. Samara had suggested adopting something cute and domestic like a Golden Retriever or a Cocker Spaniel. But Marcus had insisted on getting one of the breeds most closely related to—what else?—wolves. Shadow was a beautiful Siberian Husky with piercing blue eyes and thick white fur streaked with gray. Despite his wolf-like appearance, he was a super-friendly dog who loved the kids and enjoyed frolicking with them. They’d adopted him practically from birth, so he was very much part of the family, and they never had to worry about him turning vicious and attacking the children.
Samara stepped into the darkened room. “Hey, babies,” she said above the sound blasting from the movie.
The boys looked over at her, their identical faces lighting up. “Hey, Mom!”
Shadow lifted his head from his paws and barked an enthusiastic greeting.
“Hello to you too, Shadow.” Grinning, Samara walked across the carpeted floor and sat in the empty chair between her sons. They immediately snuggled against her, resting their heads on each of her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around them and kissed the top of their heads as Shadow pressed against her legs, his tail wagging vigorously.
Laughing, she scratched the dog behind his ears and stroked his back, showing him some love before she returned her attention to her sons. “I heard you guys had fun today.”
“We did!” Now wide awake, the twins began chattering excitedly, talking over each other until a loud whistle cut through the noisy babble. Samara and the boys turned to watch Marcus approach, muscular arms folded across his broad chest.
