The Beauty and the Brawler (13 page)

          “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.”

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?!”