Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Angela's heart swelled. This was exactly why she couldn't be afraid of Gael. How could she when this man...this mafia...was too caring for her? 

It was confusing to take him in as he was while also knowing what he was and what he was capable of doing. And the way he said those words felt like he didn't only mean about the small cuts on her fingers. 

Every second...every minute...that she spent her time with him, she just ended up falling for the man she wasn't supposed to fall for. 'Be still, heart,' she warned.

But her heart ignored her words. It throbbed like it wanted to leap out of her chest, poke him, look him in the eyes, and beat so wildly to show how it was beating for him so crazily. She placed her hand on her chest as if it was going to stop her heart from doing what she just thought it would do.

Angela took a deep breath and exhaled a sigh as she nodded. She decided to forget about what happened to her a few minutes ago and focused on Gael instead. This man whom her heart was screaming for. Maybe it really was okay… Just for tonight. "Okay…" 

He smiled, looking satisfied at her answer. He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and brushed his thumb on her cheek. His touch was warm and she couldn't help leaning into it. "You feel better?" 

"Yes, Doc. Thanks to you." She smiled back.

The sound of laughter from outside her room made her brow arch. "What's happening out there?"

"They're drinking coffee in the kitchen. Do you want to go back out there...or do you want to rest early? I can kick them all out. Just say the word."

She softly chuckled and shook her head, already feeling better because of him. "It's still early for bedtime. I'll go back out there. They seem to be having fun."

When they left the bedroom, the men were all huddled around the kitchen island, drinking espressos in tiny cups. She had told them to make themselves at home—she certainly did while she stayed at Gael's, and seeing them like this made her smile. Some of them were sitting, some were standing—and after spending hours in her apartment all day, they seemed to be very at ease. How weird was it that Angela was the only woman among them and yet she didn't feel the least bit worried? If anything, she felt safe around them.

Even with Giovanni. She decided to brush off what happened under the rug. Giovanni didn't seem to look at her any differently after that, so she treated his little comment as nothing but a harmless one. Rick was telling Giovanni about her little competition with Gael earlier that day and how she "kicked his ass" over gift wrapping. It was silly and she found herself laughing with them.

While they were talking, she made herself a cup of cappuccino. Once done, she turned to join them on the kitchen island with the transparent cup in hand. 

"Are you drinking cappuccino, Ms. Angela?" Rick asked, his tone was neutral and didn't sound like he was mocking her. He'd seen her drink one after lunch while she stayed in Gael's place and he just gave her a look without saying anything. She had checked the internet about Italians and their problem with cappuccino after breakfast, so she ignored him at that time, already knowing what he wanted to say.

Their laughter trailed off and she felt eyes on her as if she had just committed a crime. These stupid Italian men! She slammed her cup on the counter, spilling coffee on the granite surface. Her action gave them a start and they shut up as they looked at her with caution.

Angela scanned them sternly, her stare slowly meeting their eyes—starting from Gael to her right, passing all of his men, and then ending with Giovanni to her left. She then raised her chin, sharpened her gaze even more, and hardened her tone, "Listen, you obnoxious, good-looking neanderthals in your black suits who think you can just waltz in my apartment like models in a runway show. We're not in Italy! I like drinking cappuccino, okay? It's one of my favorite drinks. I'd drink it any time of the day. In the morning, at lunch, in the afternoon, or in the evening. I will drink it any damn time I want and you can't do anything about it. If I hear any of you yapping about how or when I drink my coffee, I will rip your balls out, squish them before your eyes, and make you eat them. And I WILL smile while doing it. You got that?!"

The room was silent for what seemed like forever.  Her chest heaved and her nose flared from her outburst. She had the urge to swallow but she stopped herself from doing so. Did she just threaten a group of mafia men who could easily snap her neck if they wanted to? Yep. She was crazy. 

The men looked at each other and she stiffened. From her periphery, she could see a grin slowly forming on Gael's face which he tried to hide but failed. She glanced at him and felt a twist in her stomach. Her mind was probably doing tricks on her because she was getting nervous by the second, thinking that he was smiling before he'd kill her for threatening his family.

Some of the men muttered a low, "Yes, Ma'am," while others were still speechless. A slow clap sounded to her left and when she turned her head, she met Giovanni's full-on shit-eating grin. She swore she felt a scary thrill travel down her spine. Was this how it felt like before dying in the hands of these De Lucas over a friggin' cappuccino? She was about to have a heart attack before getting butchered. How ironic was that?

A deep-throated laugh came out of Giovanni as he raised his cup in her direction and slightly tilted it towards her. "You tell 'em, Piccola." (little one) Then he turned to Gael. "I like this one. She's tiny but she got spunk."

The rest of Gael's guards also laughed, the trace of bafflement in their eyes gone and replaced with...respect?

"Hey! I'm not tiny! You're just tall," Angela retorted and Giovanni laughed some more.

"Sorry. I can't help my height. We, De Lucas, were born this way...like runway models." He winked at her.

And in front of everyone, Gael pulled her towards him, his arm circling her waist. A gorgeous smile brightened his face that made her want to kiss him. She placed her hands on his chest and she bit her lip before whispering, "Sorry I yelled at them."

"You don't have to say sorry. I like that you don't take anyone's bullshît. Don't ever change." Then he pressed his lips on her forehead.