Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance

The phone call from Oliver and Samantha Cho ended, leaving Angela in a daze. Her eyes darted here and there as she thought about what happened since she woke up a few hours ago. All this time she thought that her brother was somewhere in the resort along with the others. It was definitely odd but she didn't think that they actually already left the island!

Checking her cellphone, she skimmed through the many messages and calls from Oliver before her phone died earlier. The unknown number was actually from Samantha telling her that she tried knocking her door—the timestamp said the text was sent two hours before they left.

The loud thunder made her look out the window and she saw how bad the storm was. She couldn't believe she slept through her brother's calls and texts. She didn't want to come here in the first place and now, she ended up getting stuck on an island! What bad luck she had!

Angela slumped onto her bed as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to do. How could she ever share a ride with that man? On his own plane?! That would require some thick face and no pride. Surely there were other planes that would come in and out of the island…

With that thought in mind, she hurriedly grabbed the telephone on her nightstand and called the front desk. When her call was picked up, she asked the schedule of flights back to Esmea—at this point, she didn't even care if she was going to fly to a different state or a different country. She just needed to get out of here.

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"Ms. Su, the only commercial flights out of this island are scheduled on Thursdays, Fridays and, Sunday mornings. However, chartered planes can leave anytime as long as they're cleared for take-off. But with the current weather condition, I'm afraid all flights are suspended until further notice."

Angela was deflated upon hearing the receptionist's answer. When she didn't respond, the receptionist added, "If I may, Ms. Su, actually… Madam Cho had left a memo earlier. We were told to inform you that you will be flying out with—"

"That's okay, thanks." Angela already knew what the other was about to say and she didn't want to hear it twice. After putting the phone down, a heavy sigh escaped her lips and she held her head in her hands. 'Why? Why did it have to be him?' Just how badly did the universe want her to get entangled with this man?

She stayed in the same position for a while before she had the energy to get up. Left with no choice, she tried to swallow her pride. Knowing that Gael hated her, she was sure that if he had the chance, he would most definitely leave her there on the island. She had to ask him for a temporary truce or she'll be stuck there for who knows how long!

From Samantha's text, Gael was supposed to fly at five in the afternoon but with the suspension, he was on standby and would be flying out as soon as the flight suspension would be lifted. She groaned and bit her bottom lip, already tasting the bitterness of her pride that she was about to swallow.

Opening the door, Angela stepped out and was surprised to find Gael leaning against the wall next to her door. He had his eyes closed, and his arms and legs crossed, looking so chill like he didn't give a fûck about the angry storm outside as he ignored the mist from the heavy rain a few feet away from the railings.

"Took you long enough," he muttered.

"Have you been waiting here all this time?" she probed with a voice that sounded more gentle than usual.

Gael slowly opened his eyes and turned to face her—now he was leaning on his left upper arm against the cold wall—and cocked his brow. He gave her a once over, the phrase "He's just some guy" echoing in his head, making the corner of his mouth lift into a lopsided grin.

She fidgeted under his gaze and she cleared her throat as she tried to start her speech, "Um… I… I…" Before she could stutter another syllable, a streak of lightning broke the sky followed by a rumble of deafening thunder. She shrieked and dropped to the floor by instinct, her hands covering her ears in an instant.

The sight shook Gael's heart and he pushed himself off the wall as he looked at her squatting on the floor. Was she that afraid of thunders?

Gael's hand was unknowingly suspended mid-air like he was about to touch her head or try to pick her up but when he realized it, he immediately retracted his hand and shoved both of them in his pockets, clearing his throat as though it would clear his thoughts.

Walking around her, he invited himself inside her suite and went deeper into the room, leaving her out by the door.

"H-Hey!" Angela heard the door creak and noticed his presence pass by her. She watched as he let himself in without being invited. "Who told you to come in?"

Gael didn't bother to look at her as he walked towards the sofa that was several feet away from the bed and responded, "You can stay outside if you want and get drenched."

Her brows furrowed at his laid-back attitude. 'Who do you think you are?' she thought but didn't say it out loud. Reluctant, she didn't have a choice but bite her tongue. She had to appease this jerk or she'd be doomed and die on this island.

She was being a little dramatic with her thoughts but that's what she felt like if she had to stay longer than she was supposed to. Heck—she wasn't even supposed to be here if not for her brother's insistence. 'This is on you, Oliver. You may be mad at me for accidentally getting myself stuck here, but wait till I come home!'

Closing the door made Angela feel as if the suite had shrunk with Gael's presence in it. But she couldn't deny that him being there made her feel that she wasn't alone. That she felt safe—or whatever that weird feeling was within her that was making her feel warm.

However, the fact that they were inside a closed room—maybe not exactly the same room but the same resort nonetheless—three years after that fiery night of pure lust and… and... She gulped. Even in her own mind, she couldn't finish her thought. This was really a bad idea.

She knew it. And she knew that he knew it—what with how he was looking at her so intensely as he sat on the sofa. He was sitting there like he owned the goddamn room and she was the guest—and it was making her uncomfortable. They hadn't spoken yet, but they were clearly thinking of the same thing as they stared at each other: That night from three years ago.

But who was going to tell who? Or were they even supposed to?