Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Angela shouldn't be replying to Gael's texts. She needed some time to think about what happened between them because clearly, both of them couldn't say whatever they needed to say to each other's faces. What was at stake? 

Her heart.

Well, both of their hearts.

She hadn't responded to his texts because her father was asking her who this man was. Needing to get away from the sticky situation she got herself in, she brushed it off and told her father that he'd know more about him once he met him—whoever "him" was. 

Angela's phone buzzed again.

[ Gael: Are you there? ]

[ Angela: I'm having breakfast with my dad and brother. ]

She waited for a couple of minutes for his response, thankful that her father had moved on to talk about something else with Oliver. But Gael didn't reply after that. It wasn't until breakfast with her family was over and her brother was driving her back to her apartment that she rechecked her phone. Her heart raced, seeing there were unread messages from Gael, and she braced herself before opening it.

[ Gael: I'm sorry about last night. ]

[ Gael: I accept all your curses. ]

She bit her bottom lip on the first text, feeling the butterflies in her stomach slowly awaken. The second text made her chuckle a little, but she quickly pursed her lips into a thin line, not wanting to give her brother any reasons to ask her a question while she sat in the front passenger seat of his car. 

Angela contemplated replying to Gael. Last night made her realize a lot of things, and the memory of it still hurt. Brushing off the rush of feeling within her, she tried to respond casually.

[ Angela: I'm still mad at you. ]

His response came in seconds after hers—as if he had been waiting with his phone in hand.

[ Gael: I know. I'm sorry. Forgive me?]

Not yet. She was being prideful. A simple sorry wouldn't cut it, so she let him soak in the guilt and diverted the text.

[ Angela: How many did you find? ]

[ Gael: seven. ]

Her brows furrowed at the number. If he found seven notes, then that meant there's a lot more he hadn't seen or found. And she didn't know what he found exactly. Angela went crazy on the sticky notes that she may not even remember what they were. She wrote some of them in her drunken state. All she knew was that she wrote everything she wanted to tell him that night...and probably more than she should have. 

[ Angela: Where did you find them? ]

[ Gael: four in the bathroom, on the pillow, on the chair, and one on the dresser. ]

She swallowed. Gael had some of the pink notes in the bathroom. Those were the first notes she wrote to him when her feelings got hurt from the rejection and she wanted to take revenge. He may not have blatantly rejected her as she didn't really proposition anything, but actions spoke louder than words, didn't it? His leaving made it feel like she was rejected. 

Angela took a deep breath and saw the last two places he mentioned. She chuckled, remembering what she wrote on the chair: [ You're a selfish prick. ] —she wrote this after thinking about what he said regarding his dreams that were better than reality. First, he was selfish because he didn't share his 'dreams' with her after saying that. And second, a prick, because she was mad at him. He wasn't a selfish prick entirely, but that seemed appropriate to write last night. 

The one on the dresser read, [ An asshole. ]—recalling this note in her head, she chewed her bottom lip, knowing that the notes that followed after this were still curses.

She willed herself to reply to his text, but she honestly didn't know what to tell him, so she settled with a word.

[ Angela: okay. ]

[ Gael: How many notes did you write? ]

She couldn't just tell him she nearly finished the whole pad, could she? Well, it's not like the pad was a new pack when she started. Still, she kinda liked the thought of screwing with him a little. Gael would have a fun week picking notes around his bedroom...or house. 

[ Angela: More than seven. ]

A chuckle escaped from her lips. What a vague answer she wrote, but she wasn't lying. 

It's totally more than seven. 

It's definitely a double number. 

Gael didn't respond after that. It made her think he was trying to find the others around his bedroom. She was sure he'd find a lot more if he really started to look. 

Angela arrived at her apartment. There were movers everywhere, helping her pack her stuff in boxes with Oliver's assistant ordering them which stuff went to what box. At one point, she could only stand in the corner, watching what was happening before her eyes. The kitchen, the office, and the living room was stripped off in less than an hour with two or three men working in each space. There were probably fifteen movers moving about, so all of her stuff was quickly packed in no time.

The last one that was taken care of was her bedroom as there were workers in her bathroom. After letting the workers take a break for a while, she and the movers began packing her stuff. Since there were more valuables in her bedroom, only selected people were allowed. Nina came over before she started in the bedroom, so it was a lot easier when someone she really trusted came to help her pack her jewelry, the things in her safe, and other items that were really important to her.

By the time noon came, her apartment was mostly empty. The pieces of furniture that came with it remained in their places. Angela looked around to make sure she didn't leave anything, lingering longer in her office where she spent a lot of time writing for the past two years. 

Her phone buzzed again.

[ Gael: Does the number at the back of the notes mean something? ]

Ah. He noticed already. 

[ Angela: Maybe. ]

[ Gael: Shit. Does this mean you wrote them in order and the numbers indicate that? ]

[ Angela: Yes. ]

[ Gael: The number at the back of the note I found on the dresser was 20. ]

[ Gael: Are you trying to kill me? ]

[ Angela: After what you pulled last night, I wish I had squeezed my hands around your neck. ]

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