Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

When Gael exited the hotel earlier, Giovanni offered to go for a drink, but he declined. He didn't have to say it for his uncle to know that he wanted to follow Angela and make sure she gets home safe. So Giovanni gave him the keys to the SUV, then he left in another vehicle with his men.

Like the stalker he was, he tailed the Town Car as it headed towards Angela's apartment and parked across the street when it pulled up in front of the building. He sat in a long silence as he watched Angela and William get out of the car, and the bitter part of him thought she'd invite him upstairs—which was not what he wanted, but at this point, what could he do? Thankfully, she didn't. But the asshole put his arms around her.

Gael jerked up in his seat, itching to rip William off her. Good thing the hug didn't last that long. He didn't like the man. William and his cousin, Damien, were both sly. Quite hypocritical for him to think that way, but whatever. 

Watching Angela enter through the glass door, he wished he could come up and check on her. No one was stopping him except himself, really. After all, he had the code to her door, and he could get inside if he wanted to—that is, if she wouldn't change it.

Shît.

She'd probably change it, wouldn't she? Angela hated him right now, and she wouldn't want to see nor talk to him, so revoking his access to her apartment would be expected. Gael let out a sigh. He was so tempted to go up to her floor to see her. But it would hurt to know she locked him out.

Should he knock or ring the doorbell then?

Damn it. He ran a tired hand down his face and threw his head back as he closed his eyes for a brief second. His heart had been continuously pounding in his chest since he left the hotel. What was he supposed to do? There were so many things he wanted to tell her—if only she'd give him a chance. But it was probably impossible tonight.

Tonight was supposed to have ended well. He would have finished the meeting, waited for her to finish her party, go home with her to her apartment, she'd tell him what she wanted to say, and he'd tell her what he wanted to say. They probably would be bummed or sad or whatever for a while, but nothing that a hug or a kiss won't heal. And then he'd make her food at midnight when her stomach growls at such an unexpected time. He'd tease her, and she'd be adorably mad, but then smile and laugh with him like she usually does.

That would have been the night they should have. Instead, Angela was up in her apartment, and he was sitting like a creep in the SUV, looking up at the dim light in her living room.

'You're pathetic,' he told himself.

Gael whipped out his phone and thought about texting her but not knowing what to say. So he just stared at the black screen for a minute before turning it on. Checking the ignored notifications, he saw updates from one of his men who told him Angela was in the same hotel. There was also a message she sent him around when he was in the meeting and a notification of her Instagram post.

[ Angel: Here at the party. Nina is stressed. I'm just chillin...and kinda wishing you were here. ] 

The photo she posted on her social media was of her in the dress she wore tonight. She looked absolutely gorgeous as she smiled and he wasn't even surprised. What he didn't expect, though, was that she actually posted two photos. He swiped and found the picture he sent her a couple of hours ago—it was him in his tux, though she cropped it, showing only his torso, his scruff, lips, and half of his nose, keeping his identity mysterious.

And then the caption read, "Thanks for reminding me what butterflies feel like. By the way, I'm wearing the smile you gave me."

Fûck. And then he just had to ruin it. He made her cry.

Angela had been so brave, not even wanting to show him that she cries. Until tonight. And he was the reason why she shed her tears. 

Feeling like trash, Gael tossed his phone on the passenger's seat as he convinced himself to leave her alone for now. However, a strong part of him just wanted to reach out to her. Grabbing his phone again, he decided to shoot a text.

[ Gael: I know I'm the last person you want to hear from right now. I wish I could see you. It kills me that I'm the reason you're hurting. I know a simple sorry won't make it go away, but I'll be here when you're ready to talk. Good night, Angel. ]

He'd been sitting in the car for a few hours now. The light on her unit had been off for a while and he wondered if she had already gone to sleep, but there was no way to know because she didn't reply to his message. 

Gael must've dozed off for a few minutes as he jolted up when his phone rang, thinking it was Angela calling him—only to be disappointed to see that it was one of Giovanni's men. 

"Speak."

The man from the other line was hesitant. "Boss… Giovanni's…"

"What? What's happening? Where is he?"

"We're at the club in Harbor City. He's wasted and won't stop drinking."

Gael rubbed his forehead and let out a sigh. He looked up at Angela's floor, not wanting to leave, but his uncle needed him at the moment. Reluctantly, he responded, "Replace his shots with water. I'm on my way."

***

One of the properties and investments that the De Lucas bought in Esmea was the Naughty Bunny Club. This was part of the plan they had as they legitimized their businesses. The ones they had in this state were all legal.

On a Saturday night, the place was jam-packed with party-goers—even when it was two days before Christmas. A song blasted loudly from the high-quality speakers—freakin' Bieber with his "Sorry". 

"Fûck me," Gael muttered under his breath as he entered the club. He didn't know if the song was mocking him, or was it fate?

He immediately spotted Giovanni at the VIP area's bar, chugging what looked like a shot of water. Gio's probably too drunk to notice he'd been drinking tasteless liquid.

Several women tried to catch Gael's attention as he walked through the crowd, but he ignored them. "Come on, let's get you home," he said as soon as he reached his uncle.

"Ah! Gael… My favorite nephew." Giovanni roughly patted Gael's nape—more like slapped.

Then he slurred, "Sit. Sit. Join me. Hey, Jo! Give him our best one." He leaned towards Gael in an attempt to whisper, but his voice was still loud. "I think I ruined my tastebuds...I don't taste anything anymore." He chuckled as he raised his shot glass.

Shaking his head, Gael took the seat next to his uncle. He pushed the drink that the bartender placed in front of him forward. It sure looked tempting to chug it down. But he was here for Giovanni. His uncle drank occasionally, but he rarely got wasted like this. "I'm sorry about Lia," he said.

A smirk slowly formed on Giovanni's face. His eyes were red and his hair was slightly messy from the many times he'd ruffled it with his hands—he was a total opposite of how he looked earlier today. "She's moved on. Probably married," he said before tossing back another clear liquid. 

"Did she tell you that?"

Giovanni shook his head. "I heard her saying sweet nothings to some asshole on the phone. She told him she loves him."

Gael cocked a brow. "How'd you know he was an asshole?"

"As long as it's not me she says I love you to, then he's a fûcking asshole."

Giovanni laughed while clumsily pouring another shot into his glass. Gael sniffed the bottle he was drinking, and sure enough, it was water. Good. But man, his uncle was hopeless. Giovanni looked tough most of the time—feared by many soldiers in their family. But only Gael really knew how broken the other was.

"D'you talk to Angela?" Giovanni slurred his words.

Shaking his head, Gael rested his elbows on the bar and hung his head. "She's probably done with me. It's best it happened now while it's still early. It would be a lot harder to walk away from this if it happened later."

Giovanni swiveled his chair until he was facing Gael and studied him. He was silent for a while before he said, "Either way hurts just as bad. Trust me. If it's real, it will hurt like hell. It's been years, and I'm still burning in it."

Well, shît.

It's only been some hours, and Gael already felt like he had been burning for a lifetime. He couldn't last long like this. Wordlessly, he grabbed the shot of vodka and downed it all. The bartender instantly refilled it as soon as the glass touched the bar.

He was already going to hell—might as well fuel up.