Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

What's worse than feeling guilty for snooping?

It's that you're not feeling guilty at all.

Because how would that be normal? Gael had clearly invaded Angela's privacy and broken her trust when she had just taken the step to give it to him. This was why he wasn't cut out for relationships. It was as if he'd purposely ruin something good.

He perfectly knew what he did was wrong, yet he couldn't find it in himself to feel bad going through her things and then finding out about that photo in her nightstand. If anything, he was damn furious. 

How could he not be when that image was now imprinted in his head, and he was already feeling so pissed that he could hear a ringing in his ears. Gael hung his head low, taking deep cleansing breaths while gripping the edge of the counter. If he was feeling like this, he couldn't even imagine how Angela must be feeling. His Angel… His poor Angel. Fûck. 

The sound of the door softly opening and closing snapped him out of his trance. She's awake...and he was still enraged.

Angela came out of the bedroom wearing a white silk robe. Her hair was down, and she combed her fingers through it once, squinting her eyes as she scanned the living room and then the kitchen where she found Gael with his back facing her. She let out a sigh, realizing that he was still here. His clothes were probably still in her bedroom, but she couldn't have seen them—what with her rushing out to see if he'd left. Silly.

Her lips curled into a small smile, watching his broad back from where she stood. He was so sexy even with the back view—this should be illegal.

Moments of them together flashed in her head, and she realized that everything had been perfect these past few days. Just seeing and having him next to her was the highlight of her day, and she was constantly looking forward to every bit of their time together. She must be going crazy.

Angela didn't realize it when she gave him the code to her door earlier, but she really felt like Gael was here to stay—with her, for her. And the thought of him just being always around felt like she was wrapped in a warm blanket, which made her feel secure.

Perhaps it was time to tell him? It wasn't that she wanted to be saved—heaven forbid, nothing would happen for her to be saved. But just letting him know because she wanted him to know.

This thing between them was still new—yet also not. In a society where people think there's this 'typical relationship timeline', they clearly didn't follow that. The typical relationship would start from a meeting, first date, first kiss, dating...and the rest would follow. But for them? They'd jumped from meeting to having sex on that same night, to separation, to conflict, to getting to know each other, to kissing, and then 'first' date? It's definitely a big dizzying loop. So it wasn't easy for her to decide when "the right time" was when what they had was all too unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

If she were being honest… Angela wouldn't change a thing. Looking at Gael right now felt like everything was slowly falling into place. So maybe...just maybe, it was the right time. She trusted him.

However, telling Gael about Evan wasn't all that—it's the fact that once that thing gets to be said, she'd have to open a can of worms that was once locked up, thinking she'd never have to talk about it again.

It was hard. So damn hard.

But this man—this gorgeous, flawed man, whom her heart was beating for at this very moment, was THE person she wanted to tell it to the most.

How effed up was that?

Brushing the dilemma out of her head, Angela walked up to him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek against his back. He was warm and so comfortable to hug. "What are you doing here? Everything okay?" she asked, her voice a little bit hoarse.

Gael briefly closed his eyes—but all he could see was that photo. He cursed a hundred times in his head before his eyes shot up open, and then he looked at her over his shoulder. Faking a smile wasn't that hard—he had all the skills of a crook. "Yeah, I just wanted some water. What are you doing up?"

"I woke up, and you weren't there. I thought you already left."

Turning around to face her, he leaned his backside against the kitchen island and pulled her between his legs. The last word she said rang in his ears. He'd never leave her. Never. Not until she'd tell him to go. "You can't get rid of me that easily. This isn't a one-night stand." He attempted to joke, but it came out dry. He just couldn't get that image out of his head.

Angela chuckled, rolling her eyes at him. "You know how sardonic that sounds when that happened to us years ago?"

Gael didn't laugh. It killed him that she was smiling even though she was probably hurting deep inside. The highlighted line from the book in her nightstand crept in his mind—pain demands to be felt. So how could she hide it so well?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she wondered.

"Hm?"

"You're staring…" She ran her fingers on his brow, his temple, and down his cheek. "What are you thinking?"

It took him several seconds to respond. "You."

Angela drew her brows together. "What about me?"

He threaded his fingers through her smooth and luscious hair and played with it gently. "I love your hair. What color is it?" he asked in an unhurried tone.

She glanced at it. "It's grown now, but it was ash brown—almost grey."

With a soft caress against her cheek, Gael lightly lifted her chin up and brushed his thumb along her bottom lip. She instinctively parted her lips, and he was tempted to claim them. "I love your voice. You sound just like an angel—especially when you sing. It makes me feel possessive of it—I don't want you singing for others anymore."

"O...kay?" She chuckled. What was going on with him? 

He dipped his head to her neck and nuzzled, inhaling her sweet, delicious scent that always hit home. "And I love the way you smell. I just can't get enough of you."

His raspy voice and the scruff tickling her skin caused her toes to curl. She circled her arms around his neck and felt his around her waist. Angela didn't know what was up with him, but who was she to stop him from giving her compliments? "Thank you… That actually feels nice to hear. You too… You always smell divine."

Gael raised his head and kissed her—slowly, softly, and carefully as if she was made of glass. 

The way he was kissing her was so tender; she felt like she was floating in the clouds. The sweet caress was like a massage after a very tiring day. 

Their kiss broke, but their arms were still around each other. He had pushed himself away from leaning against the counter and was now embracing her in the middle of the kitchen as if it was the only thing he could do at the moment because he couldn't tell her what he found.

Neither of them knew how it happened, but they were suddenly swaying from side to side. He had an arm circled around her waist, and he held her hand while she laid her head on his shoulder. 

Angela softly chuckled but didn't back away from his embrace. Then she said, "You realize we're dancing in the kitchen—practically naked and without music at two in the morning?"

Gael's lip twitched in amusement. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter. "Mm. I would never trade this for anything."

Hearing him say that, she thought, 'It's okay, Anj. You'll tell him. Not tonight. Tonight is just too special for it to be ruined. Tomorrow.'

She closed her eyes and savored the moment. "Me neither."