Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Staring at a pair of grey eyes that she hadn't seen for a while, Angela felt nostalgic. She couldn't deny the fact that Gael was still as handsome as she remembered him three months ago. He was dressed sharply, and his face was clean-shaven, looking like a million bucks and smelling like one too. It was a look that he donned so perfectly it was apparent that this was what he would usually look like—smart, neat, business-like, and assertive—just like how he was when she first met him.

It was weird that she thought he looked like him but also not. Maybe she was just used to seeing him looking so casual and laid-back during the days they were stuck on the island that the current him seemed distant to her. 'But that doesn't matter now, does it, Angela? You wouldn't associate with him now anyway,' she thought.

Narrowing her eyes at him, she folded her arms in front of her chest as she bit out, "After interrupting my date, you want us to talk? Are you serious?"

Gael's eyebrow twitched at the mention of her date. His brows instantly furrowed in displeasure, and his face hardened. "What? That guy who was trying to get his way with you? What did you see in him anyway?"

"Who I date is none of your business."

"Trust me, you're better off without him," he scorned, his tone laced with contempt as he recalled the way her date brushed his leg against hers. It left a bitter taste on his tongue—he felt the urge to spit.

Angela scoffed, shaking her head as she responded bitterly, "Whether he's good for me or not, what gives you the right to decide for me?"

Her question left him speechless that he could only stare at her. Just like what she said, he didn't have any right at all. And that sucked. The confidence that he had before joining the table uninvited instantly deflated. 

Seeing as he didn't respond, Angela took a sip from her wine before she got up from her seat. "The food has been paid for. Their steak isn't bad. You can finish it if you want. Goodbye." Then she headed out of the restaurant.

Gael wordlessly followed behind her, staying a few feet away as he watched her call someone on her phone—probably her driver—and she waited outside the restaurant. She hadn't looked back at all, and he wished that she would. It only took a minute until a car pulled over in front of her, and instead of waiting for the driver to open the door for her, she hurriedly pulled the door handle and got in the backseat.

Just as Angela got settled inside and was about to close the door, a hand stopped it from closing. She got startled when Gael entered the car and slid next to her without permission.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she questioned. Her brows furrowed as she gaped at him, watching him close the door. The driver snapped his head towards them, wondering what was going on, and he waited for Angela's order.

"I just want to talk," said Gael, his voice firm and low. "I know you're mad. And you have every right to be—"

"Damn straight."

"But we still need to talk."

Shaking her head, Angela looked at him seriously—torn between letting him talk and kicking him out of the car. She wondered if she was brave enough to do the latter. 

"I don't want to talk to you, so there's no 'need'," she countered.

"Just hear me out, and I'll get off your back," he promised. 

The look on his face made her curse a thousand times in her head. She was so mad that she had to clench her hands into fists and kept them at her sides. 

Turning to face the driver, Angela ordered, "Drive. We'll drop him off at a bridge somewhere."

The driver blinked several times, surprised to hear what she said. He rarely saw her being mean, but he didn't dare question the young madam, so he could only nod and drive away.

Once the car joined the traffic, she looked at Gael with an unreadable expression and told him, "You have three minutes until we reach the bridge."

Gael wanted to laugh. He didn't doubt for a second that she would really leave him on a bridge. Judging by how angry she was at him, she'd probably even push him out of the car as soon as they get there. And that's not the worst part—it's that he was waiting for her to do so. Call him crazy, but he thought that would make him feel a tad bit better.

He wanted to hold her hand, but he feared that she would slap his hand away. So he controlled the urge to reach out and lowered his gaze to his knees instead.

Angela arched a brow as she added, "You want to talk? Talk. I'm waiting for what you have to say. The bridge is two minutes away now."

Letting out a tired sigh, Gael met her gaze and muttered, "I'm sorry I broke my promise."

It was silent for a bit as she waited for him to speak more, but it appeared as though he couldn't say anything else after that. The vehicle ran at minimum speed, and they were approaching the bridge fifty meters away. She kept her face stoic as she questioned, "Is that all you've got to say?"

"Something… happened." His jaw ticked when he saw her stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but his next words only upset her even more, "But it's complicated, and I can't tell you."

Angela was disappointed at what he said. She expected him to be truthful with her. Wasn't that why he'd been following her around? Now that she was giving him a chance to come clean, he still chose to keep everything to himself. "Then we're done here. There's no point in having this conversation." The car arrived at the bridge, and the driver pulled to the curb. 

Truth be told, Gael didn't know what to say to her. There's a lot at stake that until now, he hadn't made up his mind yet. Watching her from afar earlier was uncomfortable that he suddenly decided to just get inside the restaurant and interrupt her dinner with that douche. However, he couldn't say what he wanted to say as soon as she demanded and gave him the chance to speak.

What was wrong with him? Why was he so weak when it came to her? This was the most bizarre thing that he had ever experienced. At the moment, he had so much self-control that he couldn't recognize himself. He had always been calm and patient, but this was different as he was struggling from within, yet he knew better than to cross lines that he would regret later.

"Are you mad that I didn't call you like I said I would?" Gael asked the obvious. He didn't know why he did, but he felt like he had to. "Is that the only reason?"

"You want the truth?" Angela probed. He didn't answer, yet he locked his gaze with hers, so she continued with a flat smile on her face, "At first, I did. But I realized later that it was good that you hadn't. At least I stopped getting wrapped around your finger and fed with your lies."

The furrowing of his brows deepened at the same time that his mouth hung open, confused at her words. He wanted to refute what she said, but the door to his right opened before he could do so.

And then he heard her say, "Your time's up." Angela glanced at the car that stopped behind them, and she knew that it was his. She shouldn't care that she would leave him out alone, but she felt at ease that he wouldn't be—she wasn't totally heartless.

"Angel…" Gael called, but when she turned her head away and kept her gaze out the window, he gave up and alighted the car. 

"Where to, Madam?" the driver asked when he got back inside. However, Angela kept her mouth shut and her eyes closed, so he decided to drive her back to her apartment. 

The ride was quiet, yet her mind was still in shambles. And just as she took a deep breath in an attempt to clear her mind, a stray tear rolled out of her left eye. She had been strong. She promised herself she would never cry because of him. But this was too much. He shouldn't have appeared in front of her anymore.