Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

"How long have you been standing there?" Angela wondered, her eyes studying Gael's features, trying to see if she could read him. He must have already talked to Uncle Wilfred's assistant.

"Long enough."

"Were you following me?" She arched a brow and challenged him. "You should add that to your resume—professional stalker."

He curled a corner of his lip, forming a lopsided smirk. "I already did. It's right under my contact information, labeled in bold letters—Introduction." He gestured his hand in the air, imagining the word. "That's how I passed all my interviews. They didn't need to read beyond that line. Turns out everyone needed my skills."

She shook her head as she walked around him and headed back to the event hall, letting out a long sigh. "You have an answer to everything, don't you?"

"Not really..." He followed after her. "I don't have your answer."

Angela cleared her throat. "What were you doing outside the restroom?"

"Waiting for you. I was on my way back when I saw you leave, so I followed to see if you're okay."

Her mind had been too preoccupied to notice her surroundings. She didn't even realize he was there. "You didn't have to. I just had to wash my hands."

Gael walked ahead of her, opening the door and ushering her back inside the hall. "I didn't have to, but I want to. I wanna make sure you're safe…"

She knitted her brows. "It's a hotel. I was going to the restrooms. What could happen?" Angela tensed when she felt his hand on the small of her back. He subtly pulled her to his side as they maneuvered along the sea of people. 

Some relatives, whom she thought were nice, greeted her, but she continued to move after just a brief hello. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right now, and she didn't want to have to pretend to be okay when she was not. Besides, it's not like they knew what she's doing, so she couldn't even talk about her books. And all they'd want to talk about were: love life, work, and other relatives.

"You say that as if you're not a writer," he said when they reached a less crowded area.

"What do you mean?" Her brows furrowed, unsure what he's talking about.

Gael pulled out a chair for her, and he flagged down a server who was carrying a tray of wine. She sat down and waited until he took his seat. He told her, "Things happen in the restroom in almost all novels and movies. The world is dangerous, Angel."

Angela scoffed. The server came, and they each got a glass of wine. "We're not in a novel nor a movie. This is Crown Hotel, and security is tight. The only thing that's close to danger happening tonight is if Lyra decides to murder me for spiting her. She's mean, but I'm pretty sure I can take her."

"Security here is mad—I can tell you that. My men have to wait outside." He looked around as if searching for something, sighing. "Anything can happen, Angel. Always remember that. But no one's dying tonight—certainly not you. Not on my watch."

Little feathers tickled her heart, and she had to take a huge gulp of wine to swallow her emotions. Looking away, she wanted to change the subject, so she asked him about earlier. "Did you speak to someone while I was at the main table?"

He nodded. "He said he was your uncle's assistant. Apparently, your uncle wants me to go golfing with them tomorrow morning… Like a tradition or something."

'Yes, it's a tradition. But for you, it will be your initiation,' she thought but didn't say it out loud. "I'm sure you have some things to do. You don't have to go."

Gael was quiet for a bit, staring at his wine glass before taking a swig. "I have a flight to New York at eight in the morning," he muttered in a low voice. It was like a whisper that she nearly didn't hear from the music playing in the background.

"Right. It's Christmas eve. Of course. You're supposed to be with your family." She nodded, taking another gulp to flush down the slight disappointment rearing against her throat. Why would she be feeling this way when she didn't expect he would go? She was the one against it in the first place.

Oh, who was she kidding? She wanted him there, of course.

Gael flitted his gaze towards her, seeing the way her fingers nervously tapped the table. She took a deep breath as if to compose herself, and he noticed her being uneasy. His jaw popped as he thought about the flight he's supposed to take tomorrow. It was indeed Christmas eve, and the look on Angela's face caused his chest to tighten.

"Angel…" He reached for her hand. "It's a sudden invitation tomorrow, but—"

"There you are, my favorite couple!" Aunt Colette flounced towards them, handing her phone to a nearby server, asking, "Take a photo of us, will you?" She placed her arms on each of their shoulders and posed for the camera, her smiles all broad and pretty. "What are you two doing here? You're the most beautiful pair tonight, yet you both look like you're not having fun."

"We...danced a while ago," Angela remarked.

"Honey. That wasn't dancing. You were hugging in the middle of the dance floor. I meant shaking your booties and showing them all what you've got! What happened to you? You used to be so lively!" Aunt Colette placed a hand on her forehead. "Are you sick?"

'I became a boring old woman.' She smiled. "I'm okay. Just a little tired is all. Where's your new husband?"

Colette looked around the room, pursing her lips as she examined the place. She waved her hand. "Eh. Probably somewhere here shaking hands of potential business partners."

Angela and Gael exchanged glances, the latter grinning as he took a sip of his wine. A piece of cool jazz music played through the speakers, and Aunt Colette danced in place, her hands waving here and there. "Wait. Isn't this Billy Joel's? Oh, how lovely! It's been years since I haven't heard of this song. Darling, you wouldn't mind me stealing your date for a dance, would you?"

"Hm?" Angela looked up as Colette patted Gael's shoulder.

"Come on, handsome. Dance with me. It's your city, after all!" sang Aunt Colette, referring to the song: New York State of Mind.

Not wanting to disrespect Angela's family, he nodded once and got to his feet, squeezing Angela's bare shoulder as he whispered to her ear, "I'll be right back." His hot breath brushed her skin, and then he's gone.

Angela watched Aunt Colette steal him away and brought him to the dance floor. He bowed before her—like the gentleman he was—a smile on his lips as he twirled her around. Aunt Colette giggled like a schoolgirl. 

Watching the two from a distance, Angela could only chuckle and shake her head. "There goes my date." And then she tossed back another gulp of wine.

"Easy with the wine, Anj," Oliver said as he took the seat next to her. He looked impeccable in his burgundy suit, appearing mature than he usually did. "You okay?"

She turned to face him, nodding.

"Did something happen between you two?" he asked. "You said he wasn't coming, but he's here. Are you guys fighting or something?"

If she were to tell her brother one thing, she'd have to tell him everything. And she couldn't do that. It was best not to tell him anything at all. After all, she didn't know if Oliver was aware of Gael's family. This sucked. She had no one to talk to.

"We're fine. Where's your girlfriend by the way? Why didn't you bring her here?" Angela shifted the direction of their conversation.

"I broke up with her," he answered unceremoniously.

She angled her body so that she was facing Oliver, genuinely worried about him. "Oh, my god. I'm sorry… What happened?"

He looked at her, ran his index finger along his bottom lip as he contemplated for a bit before he said, "Don't laugh when I tell you."

Angela tilted her head in confusion, watching him pull out his phone and showing her his ex-girlfriend's selfie.

Oliver's face scrunched. "Do you notice something?"

She studied the picture, unsure of what she was supposed to see until she heard him probe, "Who does she resemble?"

And then it hit her. Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my god. Does she look like Samantha? They have the same hair...and eyes. Why haven't I noticed it before?"

For some, this probably wouldn't be an issue. So what, right? But Oliver had the biggest crush on Samantha in their teens—everyone knew that—even Daniel. And for Oliver to date someone who reminded him of her was a bit wacky. 

"You think it's why I was into her? Because she looked like Samantha?"

"Well, they aren't identical… But I do see the similarity. Maybe that's just your type." Angela gingerly patted Oliver's arm as a consolation. 

The thought of Samantha suddenly uplifted her mood. If there's one person whom Angela could talk to who knows about Gael and wouldn't judge her, it's definitely Samantha Cho.