stall?” Sansone gleefully supplied.
He resisted the urge to punch his brother. Why? Because Luciano was currently holding his perfect, precious little angel and, although she seemed to enjoy sporadic bouts of violence, exposing her to that constantly couldn’t be healthy. He figured this out when she elbowed her bother in the throat for touching her pacifier. Vincent stillgave her the side-eye when he thought no one else was paying attention. Marco simply avoided her as much as possible. For some reason they were afraid of his baby.
Personally, he couldn’t understand why. Okay, so maybe she’d hissed a few times at strangers who got too close. And yes,there was that one incident where she’d stared down one of Samara’s friends but honestly, Gianna was perfect.
“Why is she looking at me like that?” Sansone’s panicked voice suddenly caught Luciano’s attention. “Make her stop.”
“She’s probably trying to figure out why she sees all these pretty faces on a regular basis and yet yours is so…tragic.”
His brother scratched a brow with his middle finger on full salute.
“Can’t you just be a wonderful uncle and watch my children for onenight? Just one? I need my wife.”
The asshole smirked, leaning back on Luciano’s couch, feet propped up on the unnecessarily expensive coffee table Luciano’s wife had insisted they needed. The same coffee table he desperately wanted to be able to fuck her on for hours. “And what have you done for me lately?”
Luciano’s eyes narrowed. “Are you about to start a Rhythm Nation flash mob?”
“You’re awfully mouthy for someone who needs my help.” Sansone sighed. “I mean, why should I devote my time and attention to your progeny? Why should I make my greatness available? Why should I—”
“Because my balls are going blurple,” he growled, cutting his sibling off. “If I don’t use them soon, they may just dry into a husk and fall off. Is that what you want? For me to lose my balls?”
Sansone eyed him. “I fear it is far too late for that, my precocious brother. Sammie took them the moment you laid eyes on her.”
“I am not going to argue that, being that I’m standing here in a T-shirt that says Daddy Loves his Princess.” Luciano had been bearing the title “pussy whipped” for years now, and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He’d seen enough pictures of himself on Google with the caption “ Philly Brawler gone soft” to know what most of the world thought of his position as a husband and a father. Women seemed to love it, men mocked it, and his previous opponents never shunned an opportunity to make fun of his choice to retire. What none of them understood was that he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if he had to. Samara was…well…she just was.
The sight of her smile when she opened her eyes for the first time in the morning, the sound of her laugh when she was teasing him, the feel of her lips when she kissed him, the soft, insistent touch of her palm when she was trying to get him to relax had brought Luciano a unfathomable amount of joy. She defended him, she challenged him, she amused him, she exasperated him and she loved him. She honestly, trulyloved him, and that was more than any accolade a fan could give him, more than any boxing match. So yes, to the rest of the world he might very well seem cock-less. None of them would say this to them in person of course, not after the last time Luciano’s wonderfully bloodthirsty wife verbally disemboweled an extremely annoying reporter on the carpet of an awards show
He resisted the urge to punch his brother. Why? Because Luciano was currently holding his perfect, precious little angel and, although she seemed to enjoy sporadic bouts of violence, exposing her to that constantly couldn’t be healthy. He figured this out when she elbowed her bother in the throat for touching her pacifier. Vincent stillgave her the side-eye when he thought no one else was paying attention. Marco simply avoided her as much as possible. For some reason they were afraid of his baby.
Personally, he couldn’t understand why. Okay, so maybe she’d hissed a few times at strangers who got too close. And yes,there was that one incident where she’d stared down one of Samara’s friends but honestly, Gianna was perfect.
“Why is she looking at me like that?” Sansone’s panicked voice suddenly caught Luciano’s attention. “Make her stop.”
“She’s probably trying to figure out why she sees all these pretty faces on a regular basis and yet yours is so…tragic.”
His brother scratched a brow with his middle finger on full salute.
“Can’t you just be a wonderful uncle and watch my children for onenight? Just one? I need my wife.”
The asshole smirked, leaning back on Luciano’s couch, feet propped up on the unnecessarily expensive coffee table Luciano’s wife had insisted they needed. The same coffee table he desperately wanted to be able to fuck her on for hours. “And what have you done for me lately?”
Luciano’s eyes narrowed. “Are you about to start a Rhythm Nation flash mob?”
“You’re awfully mouthy for someone who needs my help.” Sansone sighed. “I mean, why should I devote my time and attention to your progeny? Why should I make my greatness available? Why should I—”
“Because my balls are going blurple,” he growled, cutting his sibling off. “If I don’t use them soon, they may just dry into a husk and fall off. Is that what you want? For me to lose my balls?”
Sansone eyed him. “I fear it is far too late for that, my precocious brother. Sammie took them the moment you laid eyes on her.”
“I am not going to argue that, being that I’m standing here in a T-shirt that says Daddy Loves his Princess.” Luciano had been bearing the title “pussy whipped” for years now, and it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He’d seen enough pictures of himself on Google with the caption “ Philly Brawler gone soft” to know what most of the world thought of his position as a husband and a father. Women seemed to love it, men mocked it, and his previous opponents never shunned an opportunity to make fun of his choice to retire. What none of them understood was that he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if he had to. Samara was…well…she just was.
The sight of her smile when she opened her eyes for the first time in the morning, the sound of her laugh when she was teasing him, the feel of her lips when she kissed him, the soft, insistent touch of her palm when she was trying to get him to relax had brought Luciano a unfathomable amount of joy. She defended him, she challenged him, she amused him, she exasperated him and she loved him. She honestly, trulyloved him, and that was more than any accolade a fan could give him, more than any boxing match. So yes, to the rest of the world he might very well seem cock-less. None of them would say this to them in person of course, not after the last time Luciano’s wonderfully bloodthirsty wife verbally disemboweled an extremely annoying reporter on the carpet of an awards show
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