Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Tuesday — January 22

Angela woke to the sound of a vacuum cleaner outside her door. She was a little disoriented, unsure what time or day it was or where she was, feeling like she fell into a time warp. Only when she looked down at herself and saw that she was naked under the blanket with the vibrator next to her leg did she remember what happened last night.

She was certain she didn't drink that much, so she couldn't have been too intoxicated to have imagined everything. Her cheeks flushed when she squirmed and felt the sticky remnants of last night's sordid details between her thighs. Holy pretzels. Did that really happen?

Scrambling for her phone on the bed, she worried that it was all just a product of her thorough research and creative imagination. But when she finally found her phone and saw the application on screen with the summary of their call, her breathing slowed down, and she let out a sigh. Gael really did call her.

Angela didn't know when or how that call ended. She must have fallen asleep soon after that.. A small notification flashed at the top of her screen with Gael's name on it. He had sent her a text message an hour ago. It was already eight in the morning.

[ Gael: I'll be busy the whole day. But I'll be thinking of you every second. ]

Relief washed all over her. It was little things like this that she loved and missed from him. Perhaps things were getting better in New York that he had the chance to call her last night and even sent her a message this morning. Was it safe to assume that the De Lucas had gotten out of that deal? Nina had yet to hear from her cousin Nolan, so they didn't know anything yet.

If Gael wanted her to know, he would tell her. Santiago wouldn't spill, and even Trigger had stopped opening her texts last week—she really only sent two, but the fact that he started to ignore her was kind of hurtful. Angela honestly thought they had become friends.

She and Gael didn't talk much last night about how things were in New York, but she remembered him saying he would come, and she wanted to believe that.

That morning, Angela went out to get some coffee and pastries from the Starbucks next door. She seldom went there and preferred other shops, but she was craving some frappe that morning and thought that she deserved something sweet after last night.

Nina had already gone to work, so Angela walked alone. When she came out of the coffee shop, she brought two tumblers with her and two bags of pastries. She searched for Santiago across the street, knowing that he was basically shooed off by the security from the bench yesterday. She found him at the restaurant, two doors down. It wasn't far from the building, really—just not directly across the front door like the bench where he used to sit. She knew she couldn't drive the man away.

When she approached him, Santiago gave her a slightly cold expression as if chastising her for making his job harder. She really only did that, hoping he'd report it to Gael and perhaps that would get his attention after he'd been ignoring her all week. Maybe it worked since he did call her last night.

Angela handed Santiago a tumbler of hot coffee and the pastries while pasting a charming smile on her face—the kind that got her everything she asked for from her father when she was a little girl.

"You can sit on the bench again if you like. They won't chase you away anymore," she told him.

He scoffed and shook his head, and then he accepted her peace offering, a small smile hinting at his lips. The two walked back and sat on the bench, eating their breakfast and watching people walking in all directions across the street. They didn't talk. She didn't ask him anymore, knowing she wouldn't get anything from him. They just enjoyed each other's company in silence.

Last night felt like a dream, but she decided to trust that everything would be okay from now on…hopefully.

***

Angela had dinner with her brother that night at a newly opened restaurant in Mayne City. There were a lot of patrons, but Oliver was the guest of honor at the opening that got them the best table for the evening, having the view of Mayne City to their left and the sea to their right. Her brother was single again, which usually meant he had more time for her if he wasn't so busy with work.

Maybe she could set him up with one of her friends, though she didn't think she had any single friends left except Nina. But Oliver and Nina were impossible—there was just no chemistry between them. They were pretty great friends, though.

After sharing a dessert plate filled with small samplers of the best ones, Oliver served her some chamomile tea. The clean taste of the warm tea was such an excellent palate cleanser after that savory meal and sweet dessert. Both of them ate a lot, glad that they found a new favorite restaurant. It was called "The Big Three", which, according to Oliver, was owned by three brothers.

Her thoughts brought her back to when she had a meal with her father and brother last week. She meant to talk to Oliver after that, but he was busy the whole weekend and they only had the chance to meet tonight. She had been meaning to ask him a lot of things, particularly about their father who surprised her for knowing stuff she didn't think he'd know. "Do you think Dad knows about…you know…four years ago?"

Oliver snapped his eyes at her, already understanding what she was talking about without being specific. He briefly checked the nearby tables as if he was afraid someone would hear them, and then he leaned forward, closer to the table, and kept his voice down. "Why would you think that? Unless you told someone close to him, he wouldn't know."

She swallowed. "No… Of course not. But he found out about my writing…"

He shrugged. "If he knows where to look and what, he'd find something. But as long as you and I don't speak about that…thing, then he won't hear about it. I doubt that vermin would say anything." His jaw ticked. 

Evan was the vermin. Angela let out a sigh and took a sip of her tea. "There's something else we need to keep a secret." Oliver cocked a brow. "What do we do about Mom and the…rest of their family that we can't speak about in public?"

"Honestly…" Oliver stared outside the window, seemingly a little lost. "I don't know. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we're part…" He cleared his throat and lowered his voice even more. "Russian."

"Isn't it strange?" She blew out a breath. The locals in Esmea were mostly mixed races, mostly part Asians mixed with Western blood. The Sus were Chinese descendants—just like the Chos, while the Kims and the Parks were Korean descendants, but they were hardly that anymore, having lived in the state for centuries. What was surprising for Angela and Oliver wasn't the fact that they were part Russian. It's that their mother and grandfather were Bratva—he just didn't want to mention that with all the people around them.

Angela hadn't thought about it before, but perhaps the reason why she was inclined to this world—even read and wrote books in this genre—was because she had Bratva blood in her veins all along.

Oliver took a deep breath and looked his sister in the eyes. "We have to make sure her father would never find out about us. I don't want to think about what he would do if that happens."

She thought the same thing. She and her brother were worried about their father. What would a man—their grandfather, who happened to be a Bratva boss—do if he found out his daughter had borne two children with an innocent civilian without his knowledge? The thought of it made Angela shiver.