Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Angela's family wished each other Merry Christmas before getting in their cars and driving out of the golf resort. They'd be celebrating the evening in their own houses, so they said their goodbyes and well wishes.

Charlie and Oliver already left in their cars, leaving Angela with Gael at the parking lot. He traveled alone today, which meant she'd be alone in his car with him. She hoped there would at least be one of his security guards to act as a buffer, but the gods were playing with her today and giving her as much alone time with him as possible. Left with no choice, she rode with him and sat in the front seat. 

He brought the Escalade with him instead of the sedan that he used to drive in Mayne City. She liked the height and space when she got settled in the front seat. "Where's your car? You've been driving this recently."

"At home. You said you preferred me with big cars, so I've been driving this," he casually answered as he turned on the engine. His voice sounded carefree and calm as though it was a natural response—like his choice was a no-brainer.  He could have said he preferred it because it was more comfortable. Why did he have to say she was the reason? Angela bit her tongue to stop herself from responding, but that didn't stop her cheeks from flushing. Gael glanced her way and lightly smiled at the sight.

They headed towards the mansion in Oakwood. The ride was relaxed, and Angela was thankful that they didn't talk about anything other than directions to their destination and the house she grew up in. She gladly told him a few things about her childhood.

"Beautiful house," he commented as they entered the gated mansion. Because it was winter, the garden wasn't green, and the trees didn't have leaves. However, he could imagine how the landscaping would look livelier when spring comes. Some servants waited for their arrival at the front door. "Doesn't your father get lonely that you and your brother aren't living with him?"

She toyed with the hem of her sleeves, staring at the house before them. It was a beautiful traditional architecture with six bedrooms. Though the mansion itself wasn't massive, the entire land stretched so far that it seemed endless. There was even a lake behind it and a vast area of grass.

"Maybe…" Her voice was soft and almost a whisper. She'd thought about it before, but because she had to hide what she was doing from her father, there was no way she could live here with him. "Oliver and I come home as often as we could, and we see each other regularly during the week."

He studied her expression. She was careful when she answered, and it made him curious as to what else she wasn't telling him. There was slight melancholy hiding in her eyes, and he wanted to unravel her—invade her space and consume her whole like it would make him understand everything about her.

The two entered the foyer, the servants offering them drinks and greeting them. Gael had a medium-sized messenger bag slung on his shoulder, and he scanned the interior of the well-kept home while Angela talked to the butler. The ceiling was tall, the pieces of furniture were luxurious, and the details were intricate. It was quite pleasurable to see where she spent most of her years.

"Where's Dad?" she asked the man in a black suit whom Gael assumed to be the butler, judging by his posture and the white gloves he wore.

The butler answered, "Your father went up to his room and said he'd take a nap. He asked me to tell you that you show your guest around and have him rest in the guest room in the west wing for the meantime."

Angela exchanged looks with Gael. Why would her father invite Gael over for a game of chess only to take a nap as soon as he gets home? It's not like Gael had all the time in the world to wait for a game.

"Is there a problem, Young Madam?" the butler inquired when she didn't respond.

"Nothing." She let out a small sigh and nodded to agree. "Okay, thank you, Elias. Can you ask the kitchen to prepare some snacks?"

"Of course."

As soon as the butler left, she faced Gael and gestured for him to follow her upstairs. "Sorry. I don't know why Dad asked you to come here and then make you wait."

He walked a step behind her, letting her lead the way as he checked out the paintings on the walls. "It's alright, Angel. I have all the time in the world."

Angela stopped in her tracks, arching a brow at him. He stopped as well.

"What?" he probed, seeing her stare at him so seriously.

Her gaze bounced between his grey eyes. She must have spoken her mind out loud for him to say the words exactly as she thought not long ago. Either that or he was a mind reader. She cleared her throat and continued walking without answering him.

They turned left and then right before reaching the end of the hallway. There were two doors to the left, and they stopped at the first one. She opened the door and gave way for him. "Here. There's a full bath at the corner of the room. You can freshen up if you want. Take a nap or whatever. Dad should be up in an hour," she said.

Gael shifted his stare at the closed door right next to the one she just opened. "Where does that door lead to?"

Angela's eyes moved to the side ever so slightly, and she swallowed. "My room." 

She looked a bit nervous, and he could only guess why; their rooms were next to each other. "Where are your father and brother's room?" He didn't take his eyes off her.

"At the opposite wing."

He tilted his head to the side, a slow mischievous grin threatening to show. "So no one else is in this part of the house?"

She snapped her stare at him and narrowed her eyes. She could read what was on his mind. This pervert of a man was probably thinking of cheeky ways to get his way, so he had to ensure privacy. She didn't hate the thought of it. So who was the pervert now?

"No. If you need anything, just knock on my door. I'll see you later," Angela babbled and turned around in an attempt to open the door to her room. She wanted to get out of there before he'd try something she wouldn't be able to resist.

A large, hot hand caught her wrist, and she froze. "Show me where the bathroom is." His voice was low and thick.

Slowly, she turned back but not entirely facing him as she tried to avoid meeting his eyes. He slowly unwrapped his hand when she entered the guest room, and then he followed, lightly pushing the door until it was ajar.

Angela walked across the room, passing by the bed to get to a door at the corner where the bathroom was just like she said. Pushing the door open, she briefly peeked to check if it was clean and turned back to face Gael. "There's hot water if—oh, my god! What are you doing?" Shock crossed her face, her brows rising in surprise when she saw him take his shirt off. The adonis now stood before her in a topless state, his boxer briefs peeking from his waistband.

"You said I could shower," he deadpanned.

"Yeah, but you could have waited until I left before you undressed." She walked past him and headed towards the door, stopping at the door frame to whisper, "Someone might see." Her hand gripped the handle tightly as she tried not to stare at his abs. 

"There's no one there. And it's not the first time you've seen me naked. What's the problem?"

Angela was annoyed. He was definitely doing this on purpose. With what's going on between them at the moment, sex was off the table. It was wrong. Even the kisses were wrong, although they felt so right. This couldn't keep happening until they've established and seen eye to eye. Until then, this flirting was dangerous.

Gael cocked a brow. She hadn't moved an inch or said anything. He then shamelessly began unbuttoning his pants without taking his eyes off her. "I thought you were leaving? Are you staying instead? I don't mind… The bathroom looks huge—I'm sure it's enough for the both of us."

She shook her head, realizing she was in a trance. Her eyes landed on his smirk and then down on his hand that was holding the zipper of his pants. It took everything in her to tear her gaze away and leave the room, shutting the door behind her. Leaning against the door, she let out a long exhale, trying to erase the image of him in her head but failing. "Merry Christmas, Anj," she muttered to herself as she entered her bedroom.

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