Gael's Naughty Angel: A Mafia Prince Romance
Wednesday — January 23
Gael and Giovanni were at the Phantom's Empire that evening. They were so worn out after chasing Morgan around the city the whole day. The old geezer thought he'd savor the moment that the De Lucas were hell-bent on buying him out of the company. Gael was on the brink of losing his patience, and so was Giovanni.
The three of them had brunch at an Indian Gastro Bar called Taj Masala in Lower Manhattan in the morning. It was one of Morgan's favorite places to eat—because it was rated three over four dollar signs in some food blog. Gael thought it was overly expensive for what it was. He'd tasted authentic Indian cuisine cooked by Aunties just a few minutes on foot from his brownstone in Brooklyn—with an unassuming interior and plastic tables and chairs. He loved that more than the overrated expensive Gastro Bar.
But he wasn't there for himself. To seal this deal, they had to wine and dine the older man before getting in bed with him—metaphorically, of course. But after their brunch, Morgan hinted, "It's such a lovely day today, isn't it? A fine day like this should be spent out on a yacht.."
It was fucking freezing.
Morgan's round body and generous belly must pack a portable heater in there somewhere. He was sweating all the time.
Obviously, Gael and Giovanni said hell yes. They were keen on making this man happy as a hippo. So they ventured out on the ocean on Morgan's fifty-five-meter Catamaran yacht. It had its own helicopter platform aft that transformed into a swimming pool with the push of a button. Seriously, who needs a pool when you're in the middle of the ocean? Sharks or whales would love the company.
In just an hour, Gael and Giovanni called every VIP, model, celebrity—basically, anyone whom they thought would make Morgan feel "important" out to party with them in the yacht. They only contacted a few of their friends who had a vast network, and those friends told their friends who told their friends. It was mad. By the time they left the port, the boat had carried about a hundred people who were crazy enough to attend a spontaneous gathering.
It didn't matter that it was cold in January. Free booze and a party filled with celebrities in a yacht? The party-goers would probably willingly die getting wasted and falling off into the ocean just to bump elbows with some stars.
The uncle and nephew looked at each other, subtly shaking their heads. It was like teenage years all over again. They were too old for this. Heck—Morgan was too old for this. But the older man was happily dancing with bikini-clad ladies at the deck. At least there were heaters on every corner.
Gael and Giovanni didn't care for anyone except for Morgan that day.
They waited, hoping that by the end of the day, he'd finally sign the papers.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Or so they thought.
When they were back on land at half past six in the evening, an SUV picked up Morgan, and he told the De Lucas, "Don't worry, boys! I'll sign the papers…as soon as I get back from Aruba!"
Trying to hide the shock in their faces, Gael smiled while gritting his teeth. He wanted to strangle the life out of Morgan. "And when will that be, Mr. Morgan?"
"Who knows? Two weeks? Three?" He waved them off. "We'll keep in touch!"
Giovanni laughed—the kind that sounded like he was having more of a breakdown than being amused. "You're not serious… Why can't you sign them today? Surely you want to keep your end of the bargain."
Morgan was already halfway sitting in the backseat of the SUV. "Of course. I don't go back on my word. But you have to understand, boys. I've given a lot for that company to be what it is today. I want to give it a proper goodbye."
Also, what the hell was up with him calling them "boys". Gael stopped himself from sneering.
Caught in a trance, Gael and Giovanni could only watch as Morgan waved from the backseat and the SUV drove away, leaving them at the port.
It was Gael who softly chuckled first…and then Giovanni followed. The two broke out in laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. They just hobnobbed the whole day and still ended up with empty hands.
If Morgan were like the usual power-hungry person, they could have done something different. For example, a corrupt politician could be bribed, an ambitious business person could be offered favors, connections, and other things they might fancy. But Morgan was a class of his own. He was more than just a businessman. And he wouldn't give up his stakes as easily as his ex-partner did.
At that moment, there was nothing else they could do but wait. Taking the shares from him by force was the last thing they would do.
With the beat thumping around them, Gael and Giovanni clinked their glasses at the bar and downed the amber liquid in one go. Neither of them talked for a while. They just sat on the stool, facing the excellent quality liquor bottles on the shelf. Physically drained and perpetually exhausted.
"Hey…" Giovanni elbowed Gael and chuckled. "Remember that one summer in Versilia…"
His uncle didn't have to say more. Gael knew exactly what he was talking about. The Versilia was along the Tuscan coast in the northwest of the province of Lucca, Italy, famous for its golden beaches and nightlife. They were probably 17 and 18 years old then. Giovanni went to celebrate a friend's birthday at Carrara, and he brought Gael along with them.
Long story short, everyone got so drunk. They found their uncle's sailboat, and for some crazy reason, the group thought tossing some firecrackers they got from the party into it would be fun. They hated that uncle—a cousin of Giovanni's father who got a heavy hand and would hit Giovanni a few times when he was a boy. Needless to say, all five of them each lit up a banger, threw it into the cockpit, and ran away from the dock.
The sailboat caught up in flames, and that uncle was so enraged that night. He never found out who did that to his boat until this day. Giovanni and Gael would laugh every time they remembered it.
"One hell of a night," Gael laughed, pouring another shot from the bottle between them, and Giovanni chortled all the more. Their afternoon in the yacht reminded him of it. It was Giovanni's uncle's precious boat, and they burned it to the ground...er, water. They were already drunk.
A strong hand clamped on Gael's shoulder. He whipped his head to the side and saw someone he didn't expect to see that night. The man gritted his teeth as he spat, "Figlio di puttana!" Son of a bitch! Then before Gael could see what was about to happen, a fist landed on his cheek. He stumbled back and nearly fell to the floor if Giovanni hadn't caught him.
Then the man spoke in Italian: "You in here laughing while Gab's in shit! This is all your fault!" The man was enraged.
Giovanni, also a little shaky on his feet, tried to reach for the other as he replied in Italian, "Have you lost your mind, Seb? Why would you—" Having had too many drinks, he couldn't dodge the punch heading towards his jaw.
"What the fuck! Did you just hit your uncle?" Giovanni roared, wiping his now split lip with the back of his hand.
"What? Can't take a punch, old man?" Sebastian sneered.
"Ha!" Giovanni scoffed, the muscles tensing on his shoulders. "Old man? That's it. Get your fucking ass over here. I'm going to kill you."
Gael sobered up real quick. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his hands as he gained his footing and advanced towards his little brother, a sinister smile ghosting his face. "Not before I do."
Chapter 421: The De Luca Men
Gael and Giovanni were at the Phantom's Empire that evening. They were so worn out after chasing Morgan around the city the whole day. The old geezer thought he'd savor the moment that the De Lucas were hell-bent on buying him out of the company. Gael was on the brink of losing his patience, and so was Giovanni.
The three of them had brunch at an Indian Gastro Bar called Taj Masala in Lower Manhattan in the morning. It was one of Morgan's favorite places to eat—because it was rated three over four dollar signs in some food blog. Gael thought it was overly expensive for what it was. He'd tasted authentic Indian cuisine cooked by Aunties just a few minutes on foot from his brownstone in Brooklyn—with an unassuming interior and plastic tables and chairs. He loved that more than the overrated expensive Gastro Bar.
But he wasn't there for himself. To seal this deal, they had to wine and dine the older man before getting in bed with him—metaphorically, of course. But after their brunch, Morgan hinted, "It's such a lovely day today, isn't it? A fine day like this should be spent out on a yacht.."
It was fucking freezing.
Morgan's round body and generous belly must pack a portable heater in there somewhere. He was sweating all the time.
Obviously, Gael and Giovanni said hell yes. They were keen on making this man happy as a hippo. So they ventured out on the ocean on Morgan's fifty-five-meter Catamaran yacht. It had its own helicopter platform aft that transformed into a swimming pool with the push of a button. Seriously, who needs a pool when you're in the middle of the ocean? Sharks or whales would love the company.
In just an hour, Gael and Giovanni called every VIP, model, celebrity—basically, anyone whom they thought would make Morgan feel "important" out to party with them in the yacht. They only contacted a few of their friends who had a vast network, and those friends told their friends who told their friends. It was mad. By the time they left the port, the boat had carried about a hundred people who were crazy enough to attend a spontaneous gathering.
It didn't matter that it was cold in January. Free booze and a party filled with celebrities in a yacht? The party-goers would probably willingly die getting wasted and falling off into the ocean just to bump elbows with some stars.
The uncle and nephew looked at each other, subtly shaking their heads. It was like teenage years all over again. They were too old for this. Heck—Morgan was too old for this. But the older man was happily dancing with bikini-clad ladies at the deck. At least there were heaters on every corner.
Gael and Giovanni didn't care for anyone except for Morgan that day.
They waited, hoping that by the end of the day, he'd finally sign the papers.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Or so they thought.
When they were back on land at half past six in the evening, an SUV picked up Morgan, and he told the De Lucas, "Don't worry, boys! I'll sign the papers…as soon as I get back from Aruba!"
Trying to hide the shock in their faces, Gael smiled while gritting his teeth. He wanted to strangle the life out of Morgan. "And when will that be, Mr. Morgan?"
"Who knows? Two weeks? Three?" He waved them off. "We'll keep in touch!"
Giovanni laughed—the kind that sounded like he was having more of a breakdown than being amused. "You're not serious… Why can't you sign them today? Surely you want to keep your end of the bargain."
Morgan was already halfway sitting in the backseat of the SUV. "Of course. I don't go back on my word. But you have to understand, boys. I've given a lot for that company to be what it is today. I want to give it a proper goodbye."
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Couldn't he give it a proper goodbye AFTER signing?Caught in a trance, Gael and Giovanni could only watch as Morgan waved from the backseat and the SUV drove away, leaving them at the port.
It was Gael who softly chuckled first…and then Giovanni followed. The two broke out in laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. They just hobnobbed the whole day and still ended up with empty hands.
If Morgan were like the usual power-hungry person, they could have done something different. For example, a corrupt politician could be bribed, an ambitious business person could be offered favors, connections, and other things they might fancy. But Morgan was a class of his own. He was more than just a businessman. And he wouldn't give up his stakes as easily as his ex-partner did.
At that moment, there was nothing else they could do but wait. Taking the shares from him by force was the last thing they would do.
With the beat thumping around them, Gael and Giovanni clinked their glasses at the bar and downed the amber liquid in one go. Neither of them talked for a while. They just sat on the stool, facing the excellent quality liquor bottles on the shelf. Physically drained and perpetually exhausted.
"Hey…" Giovanni elbowed Gael and chuckled. "Remember that one summer in Versilia…"
His uncle didn't have to say more. Gael knew exactly what he was talking about. The Versilia was along the Tuscan coast in the northwest of the province of Lucca, Italy, famous for its golden beaches and nightlife. They were probably 17 and 18 years old then. Giovanni went to celebrate a friend's birthday at Carrara, and he brought Gael along with them.
Long story short, everyone got so drunk. They found their uncle's sailboat, and for some crazy reason, the group thought tossing some firecrackers they got from the party into it would be fun. They hated that uncle—a cousin of Giovanni's father who got a heavy hand and would hit Giovanni a few times when he was a boy. Needless to say, all five of them each lit up a banger, threw it into the cockpit, and ran away from the dock.
The sailboat caught up in flames, and that uncle was so enraged that night. He never found out who did that to his boat until this day. Giovanni and Gael would laugh every time they remembered it.
"One hell of a night," Gael laughed, pouring another shot from the bottle between them, and Giovanni chortled all the more. Their afternoon in the yacht reminded him of it. It was Giovanni's uncle's precious boat, and they burned it to the ground...er, water. They were already drunk.
A strong hand clamped on Gael's shoulder. He whipped his head to the side and saw someone he didn't expect to see that night. The man gritted his teeth as he spat, "Figlio di puttana!" Son of a bitch! Then before Gael could see what was about to happen, a fist landed on his cheek. He stumbled back and nearly fell to the floor if Giovanni hadn't caught him.
Then the man spoke in Italian: "You in here laughing while Gab's in shit! This is all your fault!" The man was enraged.
Giovanni, also a little shaky on his feet, tried to reach for the other as he replied in Italian, "Have you lost your mind, Seb? Why would you—" Having had too many drinks, he couldn't dodge the punch heading towards his jaw.
"What the fuck! Did you just hit your uncle?" Giovanni roared, wiping his now split lip with the back of his hand.
"What? Can't take a punch, old man?" Sebastian sneered.
"Ha!" Giovanni scoffed, the muscles tensing on his shoulders. "Old man? That's it. Get your fucking ass over here. I'm going to kill you."
Gael sobered up real quick. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his hands as he gained his footing and advanced towards his little brother, a sinister smile ghosting his face. "Not before I do."
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