Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Angela's resolve almost broke with the way Gael's lips were so tempting in front of her. It was so vividly kissable than her imagination—not that she did that a lot… Okay, maybe she did, but that was for her book.

Even so, for someone who smokes, his lips looked naturally reddish. She didn't know for sure, but she could smell cigarette smoke from him—it was very faint, but she picked it up.

How could this beautiful man, who seemed to wear a cloak of disguise around him, have this effect on her? She was baffled that she found him irresistible when all he did was drive her to the edge. Was he right? Was she really the one who couldn't move on from him?

But that was too long ago. That would be absurd because what happened between them only lasted for a night. One fûck-filled night.

As the memories of that night from three years ago came back to her, she darted her gaze to the side. He was too much. She couldn't stand him and she shouldn't. He was doing this for a reason. Coming here to her room, he sure looked so arrogant, as though he was waiting for her to beg. Then, she shifted her gaze back to him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Gael's voice was unexpectedly gentle.

"Why are you acting like a jerk?"

He scoffed, and his gentle voice returned to being cold as he spoke, "I'm not 'acting' like one. I am one." He pushed himself up and turned his back on her.

How could he be so true to himself? Was there really such a man? Angela stared at his back and let out a breath that she kept in for a long time, relieved that he was finally off her. She remembered how he waited for her outside, looking so sure of himself. When she regained her composure, she got up and said, "I know what you're doing."

"You do?" he questioned, slightly turning his head to the side.

"You want me to beg for a ride on your private plane."

Hearing the statement, he raised a brow. Angela was smart—he could give her props for that. He turned around to face her and crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side as he stared back as if he was challenging her. Although he didn't say anything, his expression was evident as if he was saying, 'Let's hear your clever thoughts.'

Seeing as he was waiting for her to continue, she took the chance to shut him down. "At first, I was actually going to ask. I wanted to request for a temporary truce, but seeing how much of an asshole you really are… I won't do it. This storm will stop, and I will get out of this island without your help."

Angela took steps towards him, closing their gap. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin as she crossed her arms, mirroring his arrogance. She was looking up at him due to their height difference. Since she was wearing two-inch beach sandals, they had five inches difference between them, but that didn't scare her. With her eyes locked with his, she enunciated the words slowly, "I won't beg. Never. I won't give you the satisfaction that you're looking for. Now get the hell out of my room. I don't want you here."

For a second, Gael was impressed. He smiled as though he hadn't been hit harshly just now. As nonchalant as he was, he just shrugged. "Suit yourself. The storm will be around for a couple of days at least. And the suspension of commercial flights won't end until next weekend. So, good luck going home on your own."

He smirked at her briefly before walking out of her room and going into his suite. Of course, he left her door open and didn't bother to close it behind him just to annoy her more.

So when Angela saw her wide-open door, she stomped her way towards it and slammed it shut that it shook. If only she saw Gael at the moment, she would have seen him laughing because of what she just did—then she would definitely be irritated even more.

She slumped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow to release her frustration. What if he really was her only way out of this island? She shook her head. "That can't be true," she muttered to herself. Even if she had to stay here for a week, she would do so!

With that in mind, she had made a decision and called the front desk. She requested them to give her a call as soon as commercial flights were available. She was already on the island, so she might as well enjoy her stay here. If that man flies back to Esmea soon, that would be even better for her! She'll have the island all to herself without his presence.

Angela refused to believe what Gael told her earlier—that she couldn't move on from him. To prove him wrong—no, to prove to herself that she had already moved on, she reached for her notebook from the nightstand and searched for the page where Troy, or whatever his name was, wrote his number.

"Aha!" she exclaimed when she found the page, but her brows furrowed when she read the name written above the number. "Francis. Jeez. He didn't look like his name was Francis." Apart from that, the names she guessed were totally far from the real one. Whatever. It's not like someone could hear her thoughts. She was safe.

Grabbing her phone, she dialed 'Francis's' number and waited for her call to be picked up. "Hey, Tro-Francis…" She cleared her throat. "This is Angela, from the restaurant earlier? Yeah… I'm calling to let you know that I'm actually staying for a couple of days more. So… if your invitation for tonight still stands—"

"Oh, absolutely! Soirée won't start until eight in the evening. Shall I pick you up from your suite?" he offered.

"Yes, that would be nice, thanks. I'll see you then!" She hung up after their goodbyes, and she smiled to herself as though she had just made the best decision in a while. She even patted her head for 'a job well done'.

Angela stretched her limbs and turned around to see the sky outside. The storm seemed to have weakened, and it didn't look as scary as before. So with a hopeful expression, she went out to the balcony to take the dress that she left out there.

As soon as she stepped out, she heard voices from the right—where Gael's balcony was. He seemed to be talking to someone over the phone. He sounded so sweet too. She walked a few more steps to reach for the dress that she hung out to dry, and as soon as she grabbed it, she heard Gael say, "Okay, I have to hang up now. I love you, Honey. I'll see you soon. Bye."

Her hand stopped mid-air for a brief second before she hurriedly grabbed the dress and got back inside her suite, shutting the sliding door behind her. Angela's heart raced, and she hugged the dress absent-mindedly—it was still wet, but she didn't notice it. Subconsciously, she placed a hand over her chest where her heart should be only to feel her erratic beating and the faintest twinge.

The bastard had a girlfriend, and he dared to flirt with her? He really was such a player.

And was he that mad about the book because he has a girlfriend? She tucked her hair behind her ear and chewed her bottom lip. Then her brows furrowed as she imagined him with another woman.

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