Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Not a second went by when Gael stayed at the cottage next to his house, where his men were housed, that he didn't think about Angela. For the past few days that she had been staying in his bedroom, he decided it would be best to sleep in the cottage with his men instead. There were four bedrooms in the cottage, two of which were dorm room style with multiple beds. One was converted into storage, while the other one was Rick's bedroom. And since he was staying in the cottage with them, he camped in Rick's room while the latter joined the others.

In several days, half of his men would be going home to their families for the holidays. He was supposed to leave for Italy too, but he changed his plans. He thought of flying over to New York for a couple of days, so he could be there with his grandmother. It's a lot closer, and he could get back here faster.

Gael tossed and turned for hours, his mind filled with Angela's smile and laughter from earlier that day. The bedroom wasn't big, but he was glad to have the small space all to himself—it was peaceful while his thoughts wander here and there. Dressed in nothing but black joggers, the moonshine shone over his pecs and abdomen through the window next to the bed. He had both hands under his head as his eyes stared at the dark ceiling. 

Turning his head to the right, he looked out the window and stared at the crescent moon in the sky. He was brought back to his last conversation with Angela as he dropped her off at the restaurant and then to Rick's report, telling him that she waited for him that night. He had to take a step back. He didn't mean for this to happen, making him think that it would have probably been better if she was still mad at him.

Being close to her meant Gael would be able to protect her better somehow. Several times, he'd forget that he shouldn't do anything more than just to be around her. But nothing was easy. It was as though everything was just natural when it came to her—making her smile, making her laugh, making her feel safe. It was like his body would act on his own. It was as if he was programmed to be a certain way when it came to her, and that scared him.

Gael was always confident. Always sure when it came to decisions. However, whenever it involved Angela, he'd be conflicted. He was like a whole different person whenever he was with her. Giovanni noticed that too. It was why he gave him a surprise visit the other day. His uncle didn't like that Gael wasn't in total control of himself and the situation he was facing.

Esmea was dangerous territory for their family—and of course, other Italian mafias in the country. Him staying here was a weakness, and Giovanni didn't like it. Gael couldn't stay any longer in Esmea, and he knew it. The longer he stayed, the more dangerous it would be for him. But despite that, he'd still take his chances.

He'd just have to try and distance himself from Angela.

…

Saturday — December 15

Gael didn't sleep well last night. He woke up at nearly five in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep, so he got out of bed and went running. There was a trail in the mountains a few hundred meters away from his house. He'd jog there, passing through a grove, a stream, and stop at a lake. This place was beautiful. He could see himself living in the area and waking up to jog here every morning.

There was a similar scenery back in their house in Italy where he loved to go from time to time. Growing up in New York until he was sixteen and surrounded by tall buildings and brownstones, the natural view of greens and calm water was like a treasure. Having this scene near his house in Esmea made him feel better.

He jogged back to the cottage and arrived at quarter to seven. He was gone longer than he thought. Gael zipped down the hoodie and tossed it to the hamper, then his tank followed. He was still panting as he grabbed himself a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge. Despite the cold weather, he was dripping in sweat. One of his men tossed him a face towel, which he caught in one hand, and he began wiping his head.

A shrill broke into the air, causing their heads to whip towards the house. His eyes narrowed, and his back straightened. "What the hell was that?"

The radio on the dining table made a static noise before Rick's voice sounded from it. "The fire alarm in the kitchen went off. I'm opening the windows. I need two men here."

Gael dashed towards the house. Instead of the front door, he ran towards the backdoor that led directly to the kitchen. Sure enough, smoke filled the air. His eyes zeroed in at Angela, who was standing in the corner, biting her bottom lip.

Dashing towards her, he patted her down, checking if she was hurt somewhere. The smoke was almost gone. There wasn't much damage except for the soot around the burner, which could be cleaned easily. Rick explained to him what happened, but he wasn't listening to every word—he was too focused on Angela. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm sorry… I…" her voice trailed off, looking unsure of how to explain the situation.

"Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm okay. It's just…"

He exhaled a sigh of relief and looked around the kitchen. Nothing that couldn't be taken care of in under an hour. His men were already cleaning up. There was a mess on the kitchen island, and when he turned to Angela again, that's when he noticed that she was wearing an apron over a tank top and shorts.

Gael turned to his men and told them to leave. Most of the mess was already cleaned up. The rest could wait. Though his men would never dare to look at Angela maliciously, he still didn't like the thought of her being around men while she was wearing clothes that showed a lot of skin.

Once they left, he closed the door and windows to block the cold air. Then he turned on the kitchen hood and exhaust fan to high. He poured her a glass of water and stared at her while she looked very guilty. 

"Tell me what happened," he asked in a gentle voice. He leaned against the counter next to the burner while she stood on the other side of the kitchen island, trying to avoid his gaze.

"I was...trying to cook."

"Were you distracted?"

Angela glanced at him. She chewed her bottom lip and began to shake her head but stopped as if she thought of something. "I don't know… I guess."

He squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell happened.

Clearing her throat, she put the glass on the countertop and hesitantly started, "I...was trying to cook breakfast…"

"And?"

"I don't cook."

The crease between his brows deepened. "What do you mean you don't cook?"

"I…can't cook."

"Then, why did you?"

Angela sighed, looking so helpless as she buried her face in her hands and then looked up at him—though only for a second before she averted her gaze again. "I don't know. You've been very good to me these days and I...I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Gael's heart fluttered, and his stomach felt weird. She wanted to cook for him. He lowered his gaze to the floor, suppressing the smile on his face.

"By burning down my house?" he joked, cocking a brow but keeping the rest of his face unreadable.

She groaned. "I'm sorry."

"What did you cook anyway?" He scanned the counter and saw that she had plated some food, probably something she had cooked before burning something. He moved closer to inspect.

"Um...That's scrambled eggs with some veggies. And the one on the pan was supposed to be bacon…"

It did not look like scrambled eggs.

It did not look like anything he had ever seen.

The 'scrambled eggs' looked brownish with very few green and orange here and there. The bacon was burned to crisp—at least it looked better than the black ones on the pan that were burnt earlier.

"It doesn't look too good. I'll just throw it away. It's stupid." Angela came over to his side and picked up the plate, but he stopped her.

"No, I'll eat it."

Before she could protest, Gael had already grabbed a fork and shoveled the eggs into his mouth.

Holy fûck—it was salty.

He grabbed the water that he gave her earlier and chugged all of it down.

"It's that bad, huh?" she worried.

"It…" He cleared his throat. "It needs a little bit of salt."

"Really?" She grabbed the fork from him and tasted the eggs. Almost instantly, she spat it into a table napkin. "Oh, my god, this is disgusting!"

A small smile cast on his face. "It's like salt with a side of eggs."

She snorted until the two of them were cracking up at the hilarity of the situation

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