Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Angela cried a couple more times — in the bath and in bed until she fell asleep. It wasn't as heavy as the first one, but she still looked so broken all the same. Gael stayed with her the entire time, pulling her into his chest as his hands made soothing strokes on her body. They both lay naked under the blanket, but he didn't attempt to do anything more than comfort her.

A tiny part of him thought that perhaps she wasn't only crying about what happened tonight at dinner. That it was probably a combination of all the things she had been through in the past, given that she always held back whenever she was on the verge of letting it all go. This felt as though the last straw broke, and she lost the grip to hold on. Which was why he kept his arms around her the entire night, hoping that doing so would keep her together.

His mind replayed tonight's events. While they were in the bath earlier, Angela asked him how he knew her mother. No matter how he thought about it, there was no simple way to explain without compromising other things. If he told her one thing, she would surely question another. In the end, he told her to forget about what happened at dinner and that he would tell her what she wanted to know when she calmed down. She was already overwhelmed. There was no need to confuse her more. Thankfully, Angela agreed.

At almost eleven in the evening, Gael received a phone call from Giovanni. He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake her up, and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs from the closet before walking out of the bedroom. Trigger sat at the dining table, and he got to his feet but lowered his head when Gael emerged. The latter still had to deal with his guard after losing sight of Angela today, but that had to wait.

"Gio," he answered the call while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Been trying to call you since earlier."

"I was busy. How was the meeting?"

Giovanni sighed, and the clinking of glasses accompanied by muffled music reached Gael's ear. His uncle must be at The Manor. "You better not miss tomorrow's dinner with the Russians. I barely convinced Sandro and the capos that you had to skip tonight to deal with a problem in one of our warehouses."

"Thanks." Gael let out a sigh. "Is everything ready for tomorrow?"

"Yes. Just as planned. How are things at your end?"

Gael told Giovanni regarding tonight's dinner. About the shock that greeted him when they arrived at the restaurant only to find out who Angela's mother was, but he spared him the whole story and only focused on the ties with the Volkovs. He didn't exactly think he had to worry about Angela's connection with the Bratva, especially after seeing that her mother was adamant about keeping her daughter away from this life. But it was bothering him nonetheless.

The De Lucas were ruthless, but they had one strength that other families considered as a weakness: Family. And this included their women. Other crime families, though, not so much. For generations in the underworld, arranged marriages were one of the norms to maintain strong ties with other families. And some families didn't care for the women. For some, women were weak and were not meant to lead or be part of the business. So some women were forced to marry into another family. The women had no place in the organization.

Gael could only guess that Angela's mother, Cynthia Volkov, insisted that Angela should stay away—probably because if the Russians knew about her existence, they could use her to their advantage. Of course, he wouldn't allow that to happen. Even though they worked together, he had no loyalty to the Russians. And that was the same for the Russians to the Italians. That was just how it worked. He only hoped it wouldn't come to that or there'd be war.

"I'll be damned." Giovanni chuckled. "I knew Angela looked familiar when I met her for the first time. She resembled her mother. It's so uncanny." Giovanni met Mrs. Volkov many years ago, and Gael probably forgot about it since they weren't really acquainted. They only saw her during a party. "Who knew our Angela was a Russian mafia princess?"

Gael groaned, not liking that fact at all. It wasn't that he disliked her origins. He wasn't a hypocrite, considering he was part of this dark world. But her being one was indeed a possible threat—not to him, but to her. Not that he already put her in danger by making her his.

"Wait," Giovanni muttered. "You won't be bringing her tomorrow, right?"

"Of course not. I want her far away from them."

"Yeah. That would be best. Have you told Sandro?"

"I'll tell him tomorrow. And don't say anything to Angela about this when you see her." Gael's jaw tightened. "She's already going through a tough time."

"Of course. I'll keep my mouth shut and act as if I don't know anything. Cross my fingers, but I don't hope to die," Giovanni answered, his tone laced with amusement.

Gael could already see the future where he'd have to punch his uncle's teeth out for being an ass—just because Giovanni wanted to annoy him.

He ended the call without another word.

Taking a sip from his cup of coffee, he looked at Trigger who was still awaiting orders—rather, a punishment on the side.

The younger man met his cold stare, and he came over to where Gael stood, his head still lowered. "Boss… About earlier—"

"Save it. I'm tired. I'll deal with you tomorrow. Go home and be back here at nine."

"Yes, Sir."

After the door clicked, indicating that Trigger had left, Gael leaned against the counter. He planned about how tomorrow should go. If it were any other day, he wouldn't have to worry about Angela being alone while he took care of business. But because of what happened tonight, he knew he couldn't leave her by herself.

An idea came to mind, and after another sip of coffee, Gael stalked back to the bedroom where he searched for Angela's phone. He didn't want to wake her, so he was careful as he picked it up from the nightstand and pressed her thumb on the screen to open it.

His thumb hovered over the screen as he froze, momentarily caught off guard when he saw her wallpaper. It was a photo of him from the other day. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and eyeglasses as he leaned against the kitchen island with a cup of coffee in hand, smirking at her when he caught her discreetly taking a photo of him from the couch.

Gael curled his lips into a smile, glancing at her sleeping form and itching to caress her face before he began tapping the screen.