He shrugged. “My wanting you has nothing to do with the baby. I’m excited and scared as shit, but I’d want you either way.”
“Why?”
“We’re back to that?”
“Yes, because I want to know what it is about me that has led you here, to this moment. Why you have an obsession with me, and why I shouldn’t be disturbed by said obsession.”
“Let’s start with the obvious, shall we?” He navigated onto the interstate. “You’re gorgeous but completely oblivious to it, obviously. You’re intelligent but always open to learning more. You can be arrogant when the moment calls for it, humble when you should be, seductive without trying, and utterly adorable when it’s least expected. You have a way about you that makes others comfortable. I know for a fact that what you do, you do because you genuinely enjoy meeting new people—talking, laughing—not because you have some unrealistic end goal that will land you in a tell-all book.
“I know enough about you to have glimpsed that you can be vulnerable with the right person and still maintain enough mystery about yourself to keep others interested. You, Samara Nicole Blackwell, are a problem and a solution all in one, and being with you is like a breath of fresh air. You’re truly different from any woman I’ve ever met, and it draws me to you like a moth to a flame. I love the fact that neither my looks, my championship belts, my money, nor my cock impress you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about the cock part...” she interrupted, trying to take the heaviness off his words.
He apparently knew exactly what she was doing and smirked at her. “I like that you get uncomfortable with compliments but relish in your rule as radio queen. I like that you don’t have to wear red bottom stilettos every hour of the day or constantly worry about chipping a nail. I like that you always give credit to those who got you where you are, and you never forget your promises. I like that you volunteer at the animal shelter once a month and finger-paint with kids weekly. I like that you have such a great relationship with your sister but you can call her on her shit; that you treat my brother like family while calling him on his and me on mine. In simple words, I like you, Sammie.”
That was right around the time she burst into tears.
***
“You’re giving me a complex here, bella.” Luciano grimaced, moving his hand up to massage the back of Samara’s neck.
“Sorry.” She wiped her face, sniffled. “Goddamn pregnancy hormones.”
His brows winged when she reached up to grip his hand and link their fingers before saying, “Luc, you freak me out.”
“Dunno if I should be insulted here...”
“No, no.” She squeezed. “You freak me out because I think the moment you see that I can’t cook, that most days I forget to eat anything besides peanut butter and jelly with a side of cheese crackers, that I kinda have hoarding tendencies, and that I have a one sided conversations with my cat, you’ll run...screaming...”
His thumb rubbed her knuckles. “I can cook, I’ll remind you to eat, I know a therapist who can help with your problems—Brian referred me when he caught me singing to a plate of his veal parm one night—the cat and I have an understanding, and give me a little credit here, baby, I don’t scream...except for this morning in the shower, and that was only because of that thing you did.”
Samara chewed her lip before whispering, “I like you...”
“What was that?”
“I said I like you!”
Luciano smiled. “Really?” he drawled, batting his lashes. “What do you like about me?”
“I have to tell you?”
“Common courtesy, bella.”
She focused her eyes outside the window to keep from chancing a glance at him. “For starters, I like how pretty you are.”
He snorted. “Everyone does.”
“And how humble you seem to be about it.” Her sarcasm was clear. “I like that you don’t try to use your size to intimidate, and that you can be gentle.”
“We talking about what I think we’re talking about?”
She pinched him again and smiled when he yelped. “I like that you have a sense of humor but a maturity most men can’t come close to. I like that you call Sansone your friend first but never fail to mention that he’s your brother also. I like how much respect you have for your parents and how you turn into a little boy around your mother. I like that you have a charity you regularly involve yourself with. I like that two of your best friends are gay and you don’t bat a lash, yet I’m sure you make inappropriate jokes as much as possible.”
“That’s debatable. Sansone makes inappropriate jokes...I just laugh.”
“I like that you’ve such an easy relationship with my sister but seem to be terrified to be left in a room alone with her. I like that when you look at me, you see me and not a ticket to keep your brand going. I like that you like me. I like that you seem to know so much about me but listen to everything I say without question. In simple words, I like you, Luciano Antonelli, and if you ever tell anyone we had this conversation I’ll tie you down and rub liverwurst on your balls before leaving Manfred alone with you.”
“You’re right...you do have a strange relationship with your cat...ow with the pinching!” He snatched his hand away. “These are my moneymakers, woman!”
Samara snorted. “You could retire tomorrow and have enough cash to buy and sell a small island.”
“Nothing like being rich and good looking.”
“You’re certainly rich...”
“Hurting my feelings here, bella.”
“Stop with the Italian!”
Luciano waggled his brows while grinning. “Does it make you horny, baby?”
“You are to never use a British accent again.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I need more tea!”
“I’ll get you more if you promise to tell everyone I’m your boyfriend.”
“You’re really determined to get that title, aren’t you?”
“Con ogni mezzo necessario.”
“All right, dammit! I’ll tell everyone you’re my boyfriend.”
He picked up her free hand and kissed the palm. “Sammie’s got a boyfriend,” Luciano sung.
“Shaddup,” Samara grumbled. But her heart wasn’t in it. She was too busy trying not to smile.
***
“So…you’re the one.”
Luciano looked at Trip, who stood before him, arms folded, tapping one foot. “We trusted you, Luc.”
His brows rose. “You trusted me with what exactly?”
“Our Sammie!”
“Okay…”
“And this is what you do?”
“Ignore him.” Paz spoke from a chair in the small studio space where Samara had left him while she went to talk to her star-host. Not many had questioned his showing up with her. A few in the station had asked for an autograph or talked to him briefly about his next bout but other than that, nothing. It was like they already knew.
Now he was regretting his decision to stay behind while she left the room. He’d only met Trip and Paz a few times. The first had been at Nyssa’s birthday party. Seemed that out of the two men, Trip was the one with a flair for the dramatic.
At first it was a question as to whether or not he had feelings for Samara but after a few minutes of seeing them interact, he realized Trip felt nothing more than a sibling-like bond.
“Don’t tell him to ignore me!” Trip snapped. He turned to Luciano and poked him the chest. “Let me tell you something.”
“He can kill you with one hand,” Paz stated, staring down at his phone.
“Either be supportive of my threatening a man three times my size or shut up!”
Paz waved a hand. “Have at it.”
Trip turned back to him. “You hurt her, and it’s me and you, man. Me. And. You.”
Luciano blinked. He had to admire the balls on this guy. From what Samara had told him, the other man had been a pretty good friend over the last few
years, even when he was being an asshole. Apparently, he even looked after Manfred when Samara was out of town.
“Me and you doing what exactly?” Luciano questioned.
Trip lifted his hands and balled them into fists.
Luciano looked to Paz. Both men stared at one another before bursting into loud, rather rude laughter. But it just couldn’t be helped!
“This isn’t funny! I’m asserting my dominance!”
The laughter just got louder.
“Dammit, I am a threat to your well-being! A huge threat!”
Luciano was bent over at the waist now.
“Stop laughing!”
He sat back in his chair. “Is he always like this?” Luciano asked Paz.
The other man shrugged, still chuckling. “We keep him around for entertainment.”
“I understand why.”
“Fuck you both!” Trip roared, leaving the room.
Samara came in, eyes wide. “Why’s Trip muttering about nuking the whole station?”
Luciano and Paz shared a look then turned to her before innocently stating, “We don’t know.”
Her expression said she knew they were lying. “How much time before we go on air?”
Paz checked his watch. “About fifteen minutes. Why?”
She looked to Luciano. “I want to tell everyone.”
He sat up. “What?”
“I want to announce the pregnancy the right way…and our relationship,” she explained.
Luciano stood. “You don’t have to do that.”
Not a lie. The blogs, Twitter, and every other social media network had been compiling lists over the last few days of who might have managed to get her to become a human incubator. It was the first thing Luciano had seen this morning while scrolling through his news feeds. She pretended she didn’t care, but he knew it bothered her. Luciano understood her need to keep things private so the stress of a public relationship wouldn’t affect them, so he didn’t push her about it. As long as they knew she belonged to him, he was fine.
“I want to.” She walked toward him. “Since you arrived, you’ve been doing nothing but taking care of me. Things have fallen into a place that feels way too natural for me to lie to myself. I’ve no idea where this is going, but I’m not about to hide you. You’re not a secret, and you’re too damn big to become one.”
He waggled his brows. “We talking about what I think we’re talking about?”
Samara shot him a look. “Shut up. Sit down. And bask in the sunshine that is me.”
Luciano saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Ten
A calm sense of déjà vu settled over Luciano as he hummed a Temptations tune, making his way down the hall of Sansone’s condo, swinging a copy of his brother’s key around one finger. He snorted. Poor Sunny seemed to be under the impression that he’d be able to keep Luciano out.
That wouldn’t be happening any time soon. Luciano needed to talk to him about something relatively important—proposing to Samara. He was in love. Ridiculous, scary, head-over-heels, sappy love. And it was all Samara’s fault! Damn woman managed to slip right under his skin and burrow there...like a flesh-eating disease. Of course, he couldn’t tell her that. He liked his head attached to his body, and the night before he’d almost lost it when he pointed out that maybe, just maybe, she should stop eating so much peanut butter and jelly. Really, you haven’t lived until you’ve had a deranged pregnant woman try her hand at chewing through the tendons on your neck to decapitate you. Of course she hadn’t managed to succeed…he’d distracted her with sex.
His bella was surviving on the basics nowadays, his loving, her addiction to jarred preservatives, and pancakes; she was really demanding about all three and got extremely cranky when denied any of them. Samara cranky was not a fun time for anyone. He tried to avoid that as much as possible.
Two things seemed to make her smile more and more each day—the growth of the baby and her visits with Marco. From the day Luciano had introduced them, Marco had melted like butter in Samara’s presence.
He’d watched the little shit-starter thoroughly delight in resting his head in Samara’s lap while she ran her hands through all that messy goddamn hair. She didn’t even run her hands through Luciano’s hair like that! Any time he asked her to, she complained that she needed a back rub—which at a full six months pregnant she was more than entitled to—but dammit, that wasn’t the point!
He wasn’t jealous per se, just a little surprised at how well they’d taken to one another. Generally when he brought a woman to meet the miniature, messy-haired fighter, Luciano was trying to get rid of said woman. Of course that wasn’t the case now, but it usually started with the words, “Will you be my new mommy? I promise not to start fires anymore,” and ended with whomever he’d brought along running far, far, far away.
Not this time. The kid had simply given Samara a wide smile and asked her if she’d come play Xbox with him in his new room. She hadn’t even blinked before she said yes. She’d stopped a moment to whisper to Luciano how deserving of something very special he was for building a brand new home for the boys, then allowed herself to be dragged off. Now she was getting Luciano to drive her down every weekend to see Marco. There was a bond there, something Luciano had never seen before, something that made Marco happy.
He didn’t know the exact moment he’d realized he wanted to make her his wife for more than just the baby’s sake. Maybe it was the day they’d heard the heartbeat for the first time during her twelfth week check-up. The look she’d given him the second that first thump came across loud and strong had healed something in him that he never thought could be repaired.
Maybe it was the extremely ridiculous argument they’d had over deciding whether or not they wanted to know the sex of the baby. The way she’d curled into his side that night in bed, how she’d told him she didn’t care as long as the baby had his eyes. Maybe it was the sincerity in her voice when she said he should adopt Marco, that the kid wouldn’t get a better father than Luciano himself.
No, he didn’t know when the exact moment happened, but he did know she was supposed to be his forever, and he’d be damned if he let her go. Even if she said no to the first thousand proposals, he’d ask ten thousand more times. That was how much he loved her, needed her.
Maybe once he put a ring on her finger the subtle threat of being shot when he least expected it would stop hanging over his head. Apparently, Maxwell Blackwell—much like his wife Carla and Luciano’s parents—was overjoyed at the thought of being a grandfather, but that didn’t mean he was overjoyed at the thought of his baby girl being defiled.
That was neither here nor there, though. Luciano had some huge steps to take. First things first—announcing his retirement the same way Samara had announced their relationship months ago while on air. The second was to start the process of adopting Marco. The third was to get Samara to settle on a house and to settle on being his wife. Luckily for him, he had someone to help him with all of that—his wonderful sibling.
Swinging Sansone’s door open, Luciano burst into said sibling’s bedroom as he continued his song. “I guess you say...OH GOOD GOD ON HIGH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO NYSSA YOU SICK BASTARD?!”
***
She wouldn’t laugh in his face. Nope. She refused to laugh in his face. Oh, but the moment she was alone...
“It...it was horrible...” Luciano had a crazed look in his eyes as he rocked back and forth on the tiled floor of his bathroom wearing nothing but a towel, his hair damp and curling around his shoulders as it shined under the lighting. “All I saw was Sunny’s ass...just moving...over and over again...”
“Luc,” Samara said softly, biting her lip. “I really need you to get off the floor and act like a big boy for me, ’kay?”
“But you don’t know my pain!”
“Wonderful...now we have bellowing...”
“You don’t know the things I saw in there!”
She had to look someplace el
se. She had to or she’d lose it. She’d lose it, and there’d be no repairing the obvious mental damage her humongosaur was enduring. He was right, though. Samara didn’t know what he’d seen. But she would be calling her sister later to find out.
Luciano had barreled into his townhome and hauled past her up the stairs, stripping out of his clothes and screaming, “I need to get clean! I need to get clean!” He’d whimpered through his whole shower, repeatedly saying, “It won’t come off...no matter how hard I scrub...it just won’t come off....”
To say Samara was concerned would be an understatement. But she had warned him about busting into Sansone’s home without announcing himself first. Now it seemed he’d found out what she’d suspected for months—their siblings were sleeping together. Big surprise there. Not.
“Baby,” she tried again. “Let’s just go and cuddle and maybe—”
“Don’t touch me!” He pointed at her. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”
Samara shrugged. “I told you to learn the value of calling first or knocking but no...”
“He’s been celibate forever, how was I supposed to know the one time I’d catch him...it’d be with...with...”
“Nyssa?” she supplied helpfully.
Luciano whimpered again. “I just want it scrubbed from my mind.”
“Too late for that, humongosaur.”
“I don’t need your cynicism, woman!”
She quirked a brow at him.
He twisted his lips. “Sorry.”
“What was so important that you couldn’t wait to ask him, anyway?” Samara questioned taking another towel from the rack to run through his hair. He was always lamenting that she—and Samara was quoting him here—didn’t give enough attention to his lustrous locks of glory. The man was insane. “You’ve got the whole weekend to harass him while we’re in town.” They were in the middle of house hunting.
The past five months had been a culmination of arguments over baby names, homes, and exactly how long they would live together after the baby was born. Luciano kept bellowing out the word forever every time the subject came up but what exactly did that mean? They really hadn’t discussed what the next step of their relationship would be. It was like they owned a pony, and neither wanted to try their hand at riding it for fear of getting thrown.
The Beauty and the Brawler Page 8
