Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Their drinking spree started with Angela's Negroni—a classic Italian cocktail that Gael suggested. It looked reddish and sweet—it's anything but! The deceiving drink was strong and had bitter notes to it, but the vermouth and the added orange garnish gave it enough fruity sweetness, balancing the cocktail's overall flavor. It wasn't her favorite, but she didn't mind drinking it.

Unwilling to divulge anything personal between them, the two decided to keep their conversation light and casual, avoiding any questions that would require them to spill anything they didn't want to. It worked for both of them because Angela didn't want to talk about her past, and if she spoke about her life, she feared that he would do his research about her—at the same time, Gael had secrets to keep. 

To keep themselves entertained, they decided to ask random 'If you' questions. At first, Gael thought it was such a silly girls' sleepover game, but he found himself laughing at their answers. Angela was such a sport when it came to answering his daring questions from 'If you could be an animal, what would you be?' to 'If you could describe me in one word, what would it be?'.

The woman wanted to be a dolphin! 'Figures,' he thought. She seemed really smart and cheerful.

And the word she chose to describe him? 

Self-assured. 

Gael paused and stared at her. For someone who barely knew him, she sure picked something that he couldn't describe himself with. This woman was smooth—she could have lied about everything since the beginning, but frankly? He didn't care.

"Really…" he muttered, chuckling to himself. "That's a first. You sure about that?"

"Hey, you asked me. And that's what I think." Angela patted her chest to emphasize what she said, her words starting to slur when she spoke. "That's what I see when I look at you, so you can't argue with that." 

True. That's why one could never trust first impressions. They're mostly wrong. "Fair enough," he mumbled, finishing the last of his drink. He slid the glass aside and turned to face her.

"My turn," she said, meeting his gaze and smiling back at him when she saw his grin. "If you could be handcuffed to one person for an entire month, who would it be?"

Gael folded his arms in front of his chest, scanning her flushed face and wondering what was going on in her head as she asked that. "You," he responded in a toneless voice, his expression unreadable and steady as if he was waiting for her reaction.

Angela's mouth slightly fell open before she laughed at his answer. "Good one. We're not that close yet."

"Does it matter? You only asked who I want to be handcuffed with. Besides, we have a whole month to get to know each other." He shrugged, nonchalantly proving his point.

She clicked her tongue and took a sip from her drink, grimacing at the bitter tones hitting her tongue. She wished she was drinking something sweet.

Gael called the bartender and asked for a glass of water, handing it over to her to wash her palate. Then he asked, "If you have to wear a t-shirt with one word on it for one year, what word would it be and why?"

"Hmmm…" Looking down on her chest, she chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about her answer.

His eyes were drawn to the small movement she was making, and he swallowed the sudden urge to reach for her lip and brush it with his thumb. But her response caused his hand to freeze.

"BOOBS."

Gael didn't know why, but his heart was drumming in his chest. He snapped his eyes and knitted his brows, confused at what she just spat. "I'm sorry, what?"

With a serious-looking face, she repeated the word, "Boobs. I choose the word boobs to be written on my shirt—right across my chest." She gestured her hand, pointing at her chest.

He blinked, waiting for her to explain her choice of word. Boobs? Really? This woman was unique.

When she remained quiet, he stared at her like she was nuts, and questioned, "Why?"

Angela shrugged as if it was a usual word to choose. "I'd be wearing the shirt for a year. I'm pretty sure people are going to stare at me for wearing the same shirt over and over. At least... if I caught them looking at my chest, I could just say, 'Stop staring at my boobs!' And they won't be able to deny it. It's practically written on my chest."

She pointed at her full breasts again, and his eyes were drawn to them.

"See?" she snorted and guffawed, throwing her head back and clapping her hands. "You're looking at them… Too bad I'm not wearing the shirt yet."

A carefree laugh reverberated from Gael, shaking his head at how silly Angela was. He massaged his forehead, feeling as though a headache was coming to bite him from too much laughing.

This woman wasn't only unique. And he couldn't think of a word to describe her. Even the word 'unique' was an understatement. She was just too… interesting—it made him want to know more about her and see what makes her tick.

As the two of them calmed down from their hysterics, Gael threw another question at her—something tame this time. "If you can give a piece of advice on how to live life, what would it be?"

Angela was still tearing up from the laughter. She took deep breaths and wiped the corners of her eyes with a tissue while musing about his question.

He grabbed the same glass of water that she had drunk from earlier and finished the rest, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief as he gazed at her—curious as to what words of wisdom she would impart.

"Hmmm…" She sighed, her expression turning solemn as she played with the water droplets on the side of her glass. Her delicate fingers softly touched the moisture, and she swallowed before opening her mouth to speak again. "Stop caring about what others think of you. In the end, people will judge you anyway."

Hearing her words, Gael thought that her piece of advice was from experience. He got curious why she chose it and was about to ask her when she turned to look at him, a cute smile already brightening up her face.

"What about you, Gael? If you had one day to live over and over again, which day would you pick?" she asked.

His mind was blank.

The question sounded simple, yet he couldn't—for the life of him—answer.

"Hey, Man!" Lucas, one of Daniel Cho's friends whose family was also in the underworld business, came to Gael's side and clasped his shoulder. "We're two people short for the game. Join us. Your lovely friend can come." He nodded at Angela.

"Oh, what game are you playing?" she probed.

A teasing smile formed on Lucas's face as he glanced at Gael and answered, "A very fun game that I'm sure you will enjoy—Mafia. I'm the moderator."

Mafia. For fûck's sake! Why would Lucas want to play that stupid game and even invite Gael? 

Dark grey eyes glowered at Lucas, who was beaming, unbothered by the deathly glare that Gael was giving him as he persuaded, "Oh, come on. Everyone's playing. Don't be a killjoy!"