Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Angela coughed herself awake and woke up with acid in her throat. She scrambled out of bed and dashed into the bathroom, hurling her brains out.

It tasted like death. 

Her chest burned so bad. She thought she'd pass out from how heavy she was feeling. She washed up and saw herself through the mirror, realizing that she was still wearing the dress from last night. She had fallen asleep and hadn't had the chance to change.

Feeling awful, Angela staggered out of the bathroom and forced herself to change into a thick hoodie and yoga pants. Then she rummaged through a box where she thought she had her medicines but didn't find her antacids. Desperate, she decided to go to the nearest pharmacy. 

It was five in the morning as she headed to the nearest pharmacy, which was two blocks away. The air was cold, and the streets were empty—and it was still dark, but she didn't feel scared walking here for some reason.

Right after purchasing her medicine, she chewed one and drank a bottle of water. Then she headed back to her apartment building, already feeling better. A headache started creeping up, starting from the base of her neck and traveling up to the back of her head. She had to eat something other than carrot sticks and cereal once she got home. 

Reaching her building, she noticed a black SUV across the street. A man came out, and he looked very familiar. Angela was still at a distance and couldn't see clearly, but it was as if her heart already knew who she longed to see because it began to race. 

And there he was. Gael in his handsomely disheveled look, seemingly cold yet striking like he always did. No wonder her heart jumped in her chest. It recognized its owner. 

If her heart was a dog, it had probably wagged its tail seeing him just a few meters away. If her heart was a dog, it had probably rushed forward to jump into his arms.

Gael was still in his tux, but contrary to how debonair he appeared last night, now he looked as if he had a rough night. Her breathing hitched when he raised his gaze to her building—she could only assume he was staring at her floor. How long had he been out here?

Angela felt the urge to run towards him when he was about to light up a cigarette stick he stuck between his lips. 'He's smoking again? But—'

Then she froze. Melancholic grey eyes pierced right through her. And all of a sudden, everything from last night flashed in her head. He looked so miserable. Was he also suffering just like she was? Was she supposed to be happy to see him like this? Because she wasn't. If anything, it hurt to see him in this state.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he stood before her. She only realized he'd cross the street and had already approached her.

'No. Not at all.'

He looked at the paper bag in her hand, and that's when it occurred to her that he was talking about that. Clearing her throat, she answered, "Hyperacidity. What are you doing here?"

Across the street, Giovanni blabbed something through the rolled-down window; then he stumbled out of the SUV. She glanced at Gael again, and her senses decided to work—albeit late. That's when she smelled alcohol coming from him. Not only had he smoked, but he also drank tonight? 

"You're drunk..." she muttered.

Gael swallowed—and swayed a little—and he probably wasn't aware that he did. 

Giovanni's drunk ass came over to where they stood, flung an arm around her shoulder and the other around Gael's. "P-Please hit pause for now. F-p-fight later. I'm gonna be sick."

Oh my god. He's heavy. And the stench of alcohol from him was worse than Gael's.

Giovanni was pretty much about the same height as Gael, and her knees buckled when he leaned against her. What the hell? She was usually fit, okay? But carrying a drunk man while she was weak from hyperacidity was not great—at all. 

Thankfully, Gael caught his uncle and managed to straighten him up a little, putting most of the man's weight on his side.

"Ugh. I was just gonna leave you by the curb. But I can't even push your weight," Angela mumbled when she had no choice but to carry nearly half of his weight with her.

Giovanni chuckled. "You wouldn't do that. You like me." And he placed a big kiss on her head. It was brotherly, but he friggin' smelled like vodka underneath the expensive cologne he was wearing. 

Angela rolled her eyes. Guess she didn't have a choice now but to bring this grown man's ass up to her apartment. 

Gael had been quiet since, and it was weird, making her wonder what was going on in his head. The doorman offered help as they entered the building, but she shook her head and declined. These two De Lucas were dangerous—drunk or not. She wouldn't want to guess what would happen if a stranger came close. Where the heck were their soldiers, and why weren't they here to help?

The three of them stepped into the elevator, and Gael had his uncle leaning against the corner wall, so he now stood next to Angela. He kept a safe distance despite not wanting to.

"I'm sorry for showing up like this." Gael dug his hands deep in his pockets.

"It's okay."

"You shouldn't be out this early. It's still dark outside."

He always worried. His concern made her feel things she wasn't supposed to feel. They were only a foot apart, but it didn't seem like so when she could feel the heat, his body was radiating. Compared to Giovanni's, she found Gael's scent more intoxicatingly good even when mixed with alcohol.

"I had to—woke up with acid in my throat." Angela clenched the paper bag in her hands. 

"You could've called me—" He stopped himself, realizing they weren't in the best terms at the moment, so he was probably not the first person she'd thought of. 

The elevator dinged. Giovanni groaned as he shuffled out of the elevator. "Ugh, thank god. It was like being trapped in a soap opera in there. You guys should just kiss and make out—I mean, make up. But either way works. Just not in front of me."