Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

"Cheers to our new projects! Next year will be a hell of a year for us." Vincent clinked his champagne flute with Angela's.

"To success," she added before taking a sip. 

They had just gotten away from Mr. Whitman and Ms. Cox after talking to them for over an hour. They talked about Vincent's project—which Mr. Whitman finally gave him the attention he deserved, and Angela's foundation's project where Pam was very much inclined to work on it with her. Pam offered to host a fundraising event to raise money which would not only cover the $20,000 Angela needed to reach her target but also have several thousands of dollars more that could be allocated for future expenses or other projects that she wanted to do. That would be a lot of money—money that would help a lot of the underprivileged.

Angela's heart felt full. Her school project was finally coming together. She couldn't wait to visit the orphanage soon and tell the kids about the news. It would be the best Christmas gift for them.

Sometime later, she and Vincent decided to leave the party. Their agenda for tonight had been brought to fruition, and they were ready to call it a night. The traffic wasn't so bad that night when he drove her back to Gael's place, though they were set back for nearly an hour in the city center. It was already midnight when they arrived.

He helped her out of the limousine and walked her towards the front of the house. It was dark and cold, the only light coming from the bulb on the door's overhead. 

"Thank you for coming with me tonight. Your father had been quite busy these days, and I couldn't ask him another favor when he already helped me the last time. I have my pride—though I still needed your help." He chuckled at himself, shaking his head.

Angela smiled. "Hey, that was nothing. I didn't even do anything. Sure, he was familiar with me, but I just stood there. You were the one who did the work and convinced him. You already had it in you."

"Believe me, if he hadn't met you and saw that we knew each other, he would have said his goodbye in five minutes and brushed me off." Vincent sighed, running a hand down his face. "So, thank you. I owe you one."

"Fine. You're welcome. But you also did me a favor, so technically, you don't owe me anything. We're even."

He waved his hand. "We can keep doing this back and forth. It won't end. My flight tomorrow is at eleven…" He checked his watch and looked back at her with a smile on his face. "Wanna have brunch before I leave? My treat—as a thank you."

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't. I have to meet a realtor tomorrow for my move. I thought you were staying for a few more days? Is everything okay back home?" she asked.

Vincent shifted his weight, his gaze averted to the left—something people do unknowingly when they lie or when they're uncomfortable. "Yeah. Nothing's wrong. I just...thought I'd visit my foster family for the holidays."

Angela arched a brow, a small smile forming on her face. It was early for the Christmas holiday—there's still ten—nine days left. Maybe he only has time tomorrow? Suspicious. "Sure...whatever you say."

His eyes snapped at her before narrowing. "I don't like that smirk on your face, Su."

She scoffed. "What? I'm just thinking...maybe it has something to do with that Sexytary of yours."

Rolling his eyes, Vincent shook his head, looking exasperated. "Nothing is going on there. You're reading too much into it." He nodded to the door. "Go. It's cold out here."

Deciding to let it go, she exhaled a sigh and hugged him. "Thank you for tonight. And just...thank you…" She didn't say it, but he seemed to get what she meant when he nodded and returned her hug.

"You're something else, Angela Su," he told her when they stepped back.

Angela laughed and waved her fingers as she headed to the door. "Bye, Vincent. Have a safe flight."

"Let me know how it goes. I want to hear all about it. I'll call you soon." He waited until she opened the door and walked back to his limo when she was safely inside.

***

Earlier, Gael was asleep on the couch in the living room when he heard a vehicle pulling in the driveway. He woke up, and his eyes landed on the clock—it was midnight. The room was dark, with only the light from the fireplace giving a glow. He had probably fallen asleep sometime half an hour ago. He looked down on his chest where Honey curled its body as it slept. He patted Honey once, and then his attention was brought to the murmurs in the front of his house.

He couldn't see clearly, but through the slits of the curtains, Angela and Vincent were talking outside. What else could they be talking about for so long when they'd been together the whole night?

"We also had a good night, didn't we, Honey?" he mumbled to himself, glancing at the empty wine bottle at the table before looking at the pair outside again. He abstained from hard liquor, but red wine was okay, right?

The door opened suddenly, and his eyes shut close. He didn't know why he was pretending to be asleep. Maybe if he did, he wouldn't have to talk to her.

Gael's ears perked up, hearing Angela's heels clicking on the floor—the sound growing louder until he felt her presence next to him. Her arm lightly brushed against his, and he froze at the small contact. He could sense that she was petting Honey. 

She was so close to him that her delicious scent invaded his nose—she smelled of vanilla and a hint of alcohol. She'd been drinking with that Rock. Of course, it was a party. Gael had been drinking, and there was no party.

She was so close that he could feel her warm breath when she sighed and muttered softly, "I have good news, and I wanted to tell you first. I'm happy tonight…"

Good news? Happy? What was she talking about? He waited for more, but she didn't say anything else. The next thing he knew, a blanket was draped over him, around his arms where he cradled Honey.

He waited. Footsteps walking away. On the stairs. Door creaked. Door closed. Then his eyes fluttered open.

"How could she say something like that and not finish it, Honey?"

The little fluff looked at him, its head cocking as if saying, "I know, right?"

Everything that morning and that evening played in his mind like a flash of cards flipping so fast, his breathing became ragged. His brows drew together in almost a scowl. In a matter of seconds, Gael sat up, carefully placed Honey down on the couch, raced the flight of stairs, and entered his bedroom. He was panting, but no Angela was in sight. Then he heard the water running from the bathroom. Long legs strode across the room, and without warning, he pushed the bathroom door open. 

Angela was in front of the sink with her hand reaching the back of her dress, trying to unzip it. "Gael…" she breathed, looking at him through the mirror.

He froze for a second before stepping closer, gazing at her reflection in the mirror until he was behind her. "What good news? Why are you happy?" His voice was low and cold, his thoughts going back to the image of her hugging Rock before coming inside the house.

She lowered her hands, her cheeks slightly flushed. "I...thought you were asleep."

His jaw popped. "You don't want me, Angel."

Angela looked confused. "Why do you say that?"

"I see the way you look at me. Always. I always watch you...watching me. You think I don't notice you when you do, but I'm always here, always looking at you, and I see you." Her mouth opened, her brows creasing deeper, but he didn't stop there. "You can't look at me like that, Angel. You. Don't. Want. Me." He gritted his teeth.

"Why are you putting words in my mouth? What do you—"

"You make it so hard for me to do what I have to do when you look at me like you're looking at me right now—"

"What are you talking—" She gasped when he pressed his front to her back—the rest of her words were swallowed.

He knew she could feel 'it' with her pupils dilating and her cheeks going a deeper shade of red. 'You make it so hard for me—fûck, you make me hard,' he said in his head though, by the looks of her, she knew what was on his mind. The strain in his pants was painful.

Gael's hand brushed on her shoulder, and her breathing became heavy. His fingers skimmed her nape and traced her spine going down until it reached the hard material of her clothing. Slowly, he began to drag the zipper down her dress—all while they kept their stare at each other through the mirror.

Running his tongue along his bottom lip, he whispered, "I've been trying so fûcking hard to hold back, Angel."

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