"Where is my wife?" Damon asked, his dark eyes scanning the expansive living room as he walked in.
"Whoa, whoa. You just got here," Carl peered out from the couch he was sprawled on.
Damon gave him a cold look, and he raised both hands in mock surrender, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.
"Fine, fine! She's upstairs," he said, sitting up. "Mom dragged her into her suite to try on dozens of dresses and jewellery for Saturday."
Damon turned toward the grand staircase.
"You should've called before showing up. That's usually your thing." Carl teased behind him.
"Is that Damon I hear?" Mrs Ross's voice carried down before Damon's foot touched the first stair, and he stopped, his hand resting on the carved bannister.
"In the flesh, Mom!" Carl yelled back from the couch. "Apparently,
