Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

Angela grimaced as she nursed the glass of punch with her hands while she sat alone in one of the sunbeds on the beach. The Chos had started their barbecue party and she didn't really know anyone well enough to talk to. 'This sucks,' she huffed.

The sun was still up and she was sweating like a pig. She didn't know if it was because of the heat or because she was nervous and sulking. The waves from the beach were so nice and inviting. Normally, she would have enjoyed herself by now if it weren't because of the incident earlier. She still couldn't believe that man ignored her!

Angela's eyes darted to Gael and her brows knitted in irritation upon seeing him laugh and mingle with everyone else like he hadn't seen her at all. Well… that's the thing. Nothing really happened earlier.

What were the odds that after three years she would run into him again? That night when she met him was sort of a blessing in disguise for her. Gael approached her while she was sitting at the bar and they started talking. However, they established early on that they wouldn't give anything personal about them. That night was supposed to be a weekend away from everything she was running away from. She just wanted to have a good time with a stranger, no strings attached.

In the middle of their drinking spree, she challenged him to say anything unbelievable and she would decide if it was a bluff. The jerk spouted nonsense about him being a mafia prince. What bullshît world was he living in? How pretentious. Though she gave him credit for his bluff, she didn't believe anything else he said after that.

Because who would? Weren't mafia men or whatever people call them supposed to be scary? The moment Gael sat next to her and started talking to her, she immediately judged him based on his looks and aura. He looked and felt like a kind person. And what mafia didn't have goons surrounding him… or why was he even in a wedding? He was definitely bluffing.

She snorted at his words and she humored him. "If you were really mafia, tell me a story," she told him. She was just kidding, of course. She already knew he was lying. But she wanted to see how far he was going to go on his 'make-believe stories'.

She laughed and had fun the entire night. And the giggles, the drinking, and the flirting that they did led them to her bedroom. The rest was history.

When Angela returned to Mayne City after the wedding, a sudden urge to pick up her pen and paper possessed her. And the next thing she knew, she started writing so fast, inspired by Gael's tales that night. She was probably too inspired by him because she based the male lead's looks on him too.

The only thing that she believed from him was his name and where he was from. Thinking that she wasn't going to see him ever again anyway, and knowing the odds of him ever finding her book was one in a million, she pushed through and published it a few months later.

Angela was proud of her first-ever published book under a pen-name. She couldn't reveal herself because of a lot of reasons, and those reasons stemmed from one person: Her father.

Keeping her secret identity was actually beneficial for her. At least she could keep the limelight away from herself while she enjoyed what she was doing.

The first couple of months after her book was out, it sold out! It was trending on the internet and she started to fear that they were going to find her. But it had been three years since and until now, her identity as Galatea K.S. was still under wraps.

Unlike many authors, her private life was still a secret. No paparazzi or random strangers were going after her. No weird and ridiculous headlines about her. She was living a peaceful life while enjoying the benefits of getting her works read all over the world.

Angela raised the glass to her lips and took a sip of her drink. The fruity vodka was so refreshing in her mouth, it instantly made her feel relaxed.

Whatever.

She got up and walked towards the shore. She was going to enjoy life today, so she decided to take a walk on the beach barefooted, her soles touching the very fine white sand and every once in awhile, water from the sea would swish on her feet. The sound of the waves and the gentle breeze despite the hot sun was quite nice.

Angela had walked quite a distance and she kept on walking without looking back. Not noticing the dead coral, her left foot landed on it, twisting her ankle.

"Ah!" she yelped as she fell backwards, her drink splashing on her. However, when she expected to fall on the sand, she ended up falling on someone's arms.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered and tried to steady herself.

But just when she moved, she saw a familiar-looking book in white and red, held by the man who caught her when she fell—his arm was around her waist and the book was directly shoved to her chest, squishing her breasts.

"Hello, Angela," Gael's raspy voice brushed against the skin of her ear.

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