Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

While Nina and Giovanni bantered over who could drink the most without passing out and looking like two children wanting to top the other in a competition, Angela set her focus on Gael. She angled her body to face him and slid her hands all over his pecs, abdomen, neck, biceps, face, checking if he got hurt.

He chuckled, realizing what she was doing. "I'm fine. I'm not hurt."

The crease between her brows deepened as though she didn't believe him. She hadn't said a word to him since they sat down at the lounge, unsure of how she would broach the subject of what the hell just happened with the man they dragged out to the alley.

Gael lightly stroked her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "You want a drink?" he asked before casually reaching his neck to loosen his bow tie.

Angela gasped, her hands shooting up to clasp his when she saw his knuckles were slightly swollen and there were some cuts on them. "You're hurt." Then her eyes widened as she took a closer look at his shirt. There were some blood splotches here and there. It wasn't too noticeable because of the colored lights in the club unless you look at it closely. "Oh, my God. There's blood. Where are you hurt?" she worried, trying to find where his wound was.

He glanced down as if to see himself for the first time. He was sure that he washed the blood off his hands in the restroom before coming up the stairs. Seeing the small patches of blood on his shirt, he let out a sigh. "It's not mine. Really, I'm okay. You should see the other guy." He smirked.

She studied him, looking for assurance before she released the tension between her brows. The playful expression on his face told her he did a number on that man. She didn't want to know what happened back there, even if curiosity ate her. However, it still didn't stop her from worrying about his fists. Clicking her tongue, she gestured for their designated server and asked for a bucket of ice, some facial towels, and a first-aid kit.

The server came back in a few minutes with everything she asked for.

"Angel, you don't have to. I'm fine. My hands will—"

"Just shut up, Gael." Angela fumed as she began wrapping some ice in two towels and pressing them on his knuckles, one on each hand. 

She couldn't really tell what she was mad about. That he beat up a guy? That a guy touched her, and she did not get to beat him up herself? That Gael got hurt in the process? She mentally rolled her eyes. Gael was a grown man, and this probably didn't really hurt him—that maybe this was too small compared to the injuries he got in the past. But she couldn't help it. She was worried and was mad at something.

He did shut up after, and his silence made her glance up at him. The bastard was smiling as he watched her tend to his hands that were laid on her lap as if he was enjoying whatever he found so amusing. Annoyed, she purposely pressed the towel a little harshly onto his knuckles, and he flinched but didn't take his hands away from her. That should have probably pissed him off, but instead, he chuckled—the idiot.

After some time, she then disinfected the cuts before placing plasters on them. He let her do what she wanted, enjoying the attention his little nurse gave him. Then she let out a sigh after seeing that the back of his hands looked better and the swelling had gone down.

"You done, Nurse?"

She shot him a glare. She was about to clean up the mess when strong hands wrapped around her waist, causing her to yelp as he lifted her and placed her on his lap so she was straddling him. He picked her up like she weighed nothing. Her hands planted on his shoulders to keep herself steady. It wasn't comfortable, given that her shimmery dark green wrap-around dress had that pencil cut form. As if sensing her discomfort, he pushed the hem of her dress up her thighs and pulled her closer to him.

Only Gael could see her front and he made sure her back was covered. He raked his gaze down her bare thighs, lingering at the spot between her legs. He could see her lace underwear peaking and he wet his lips with his tongue. 

"What are you doing?" she voiced.

"Getting my fill of you. I can't hear you with the loud noise. This is much better."

Frankly, she couldn't care what others would think if they looked their way and saw her straddling the club owner. Her shoulders relaxed, and she let him pull her down for a kiss. The kiss wasn't demanding. This one was slow and brief. 

"Why are you irritated?" he probed.

"I don't know. I don't like seeing you like this."

Gael leaned back enough that they could see each other's eyes, and his jaw ticked. "He touched you."

"Did you…" she trailed off.

But he knew what she wanted to ask. "Kill him? No. But I wanted to. Apart from his disfigured face and broken knee, he won't be using his hands for a few weeks."

Angela's face scrunched up. She didn't see the guy, but she could imagine, and her imagination was over the top. She shook her head to brush those thoughts away before she dove into his neck and inhaled his scent. It felt like weeks since the last time she was this close to him.

"Did you enjoy your day?" he asked, and she nodded, thankful that he moved on from the subject, then she stated, "Nina and I had fun. It's been a while since we did that. Dinner was amazing too. Thank you."

"How about tonight? You enjoyed the event?"

She glanced up and met his questioning gaze. It was hard to read, but it didn't look like he was mad or accusing her of something. "You're…not mad?"

Gael cocked a brow. "That you enjoyed watching naked men dancing on stage?"

She shrunk back. The reminder of how she and Nina danced with Imogen's bachelorette party below the stage caused her to flush. "They kept their underwear on—not completely naked."

"Semantics."

"Except one of them. He removed everything but playfully covered his junk with a cowboy hat before leaving the stage and giving everyone in the club a view of his ass." Gael furrowed his brows. Angela bit her bottom lip to stifle a laughter. Tonight was so weird. "You're really not mad?"

"I'm not delighted by it, but I'm not mad either." He slid his hands to the sides of her thighs, underneath her dress, and cupped her bottom. "How would you feel if I watched female strippers perform?"

Angela narrowed her eyes at him. The idea of him sitting in front of a stripper dancing on a pole flashed in her head. "Will you enjoy it?"

"Maybe. But I don't want them. I want you." As if to prove a point, he teased the tips of his fingers on the hem of her underwear before slipping them beneath it to feel her skin.

She swallowed. "You're so possessive, I thought you would be."

He paused. "That would be the last time. You can't watch performances like that unless I'm around." She nodded. "So, did you enjoy?"

"Yes. They were so…hot." She flashed him a cheeky smile.

Gael threw his head back and laughed, slapping her ass playfully before he groaned and pulled her even closer, his lips a hairbreadth away from hers. "You want to go home?"

Pressing a kiss to his lips, Angela glanced behind her. "Yes, but…" Nina and Giovanni had started a drinking game some time while she was nursing Gael's hands. The two looked like they were frenemies who were tolerating each other. It didn't escape her that Nina was having fun, and Angela didn't want tonight to end just yet. She missed her best friend and Nina had to go back home tomorrow already. 

"You guys joining us, or do you need a minute to finish dry humping each other?" Giovanni questioned with a smirk before tossing a shot of clear white liquid to the back of his throat.

Angela rolled her eyes and faced Gael again. "Can we stay a little longer?"

He understood that she needed tonight to escape. To forget. And he was going to give it to her. "We can." He kissed the corner of her lips and then ordered the server to clear up the mess and bring in several drinks and charcuterie. 

"That's what I'm talking about," Giovanni chuckled. Then he hollered at Angela, "Hey, homeslice. Does your friend get all gangsta, too, if she smoked?"

Angela looked at Nina, who had just released a cloud of smoke, the joint sandwiched between her fingers. Giovanni had indulged her. The two best friends exchanged knowing glances without saying anything, and in response to Giovanni, Angela only shook her head. Oh, no. Her friend did something else when she got high.