Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
“If I wanted to,” he said slowly, “…you wouldn’t be sitting here arguing with me. Oliver would already be with me. You know that, Helen.”
She could feel her stomach flip.
The calmness and certainty in his voice were terrifying because it was true. He had the power, the resources, and the influence. If Vincent Moretti decided to take her son, she had no doubt he could.
“Then why are you here, Vincent? Why stay? Why…” She paused, swallowing hard. She saw his gaze soften, just a little. Or, she only imagined it.
“Because Oliver isn’t just your family, Helen… He’s mine too.”
She looked away, unable to hold his eyes. That one sentence carried more weight than anything else he could have said.
But she refused to show weakness. “That doesn’t change anything. He stays with me.”
Vincent’s lips flickered a bit. Not a smirk or anything teasing, but more like he’s just resigned. “You really think I’d separate a child from his mother?”
Helen blinked at him. ‘Did he tell the truth?’
The Vincent Moretti she knew was the ruthless, cold man her father despised. Yet the man sitting in front of her now, the one who had sat by Oliver’s bedside and held his hand until he woke, didn’t seem like that monster.
She was confused. She wanted to believe him, but every instinct warned her not to trust.
For a moment, she had no words to answer him. She simply stared at him in silence.
“And, Helen, you don’t have to sell your soul to keep him. You just have to trust me,” Vincent continued. His voice sounded calm.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her heartbeat rushed in her chest. ‘Trust him?’
Before she could even find her voice, he continued, “You and Oliver will come with me to the capital. And we will register our marriage, and he’ll take my name…”
Helen blinked, stunned.
She had imagined this moment countless times, but hearing the words spill from Vincent’s mouth sounded firm, enough to make her chest tighten.
The idea of becoming his wife felt impossible. Unthinkable.
And yet…
When she remembered the way Oliver’s small hand fit so easily into Vincent’s, and the way her son’s laughter lit up when he was around, she couldn’t deny the creeping thought that maybe the impossible was already starting.
Vincent stared at her in silence.
Even waiting a single heartbeat for her answer seemed too long for him.
He continued, “You’re overthinking, Helen…” his tone was sharp with impatience. “Stop wasting time on things that don’t matter.”
Helen’s eyes flashed. She shot him a glare, but her throat betrayed her, tightening around the words she wanted to throw back at him.
“If you’re thinking about yourself, stop it,” Vincent pressed, “Think about Oliver. Think about his future.”
His words hit Helen unexpectedly.
She froze, caught off guard. He was right. Painfully, brutally right. She’d been clinging so tightly to her fear, her pride, her pain, that she had forgotten what mattered most. Oliver. Her son’s future!
“He’s three now,” Vincent continued. His voice was calm.
“That means, soon, he’ll be in school. Tell me, Helen… how do you expect to enroll him without a father’s name on his record?” He added.
The weight of his words snapped her, leaving her breathless. Shame rose hot in her chest, her hands trembling in her lap.
For the first time, Helen felt anger, not at Vincent, but at herself. At her blindness. At her selfishness.
Vincent’s jaw tightened, his voice rising as he continued, “Those children at school will mock him. Do you think it’s normal for Oliver to suffer that kind of cruelty? Do you think I could ever accept that?”
His gaze darkened, anger dancing in his eyes. “I can’t, Helen. Just the thought of it makes me furious.”
Helen completely agreed with Vincent.
For the sake of Oliver, she was willing. She would give up her pride, bend her rules, even risk her sanity if it meant protecting her son’s future.
But she wasn’t going to surrender without at least setting a few conditions with him.
“I’ll do it,” she said softly, steadying her trembling hands on her lap. “But I have a request before we finalize our marriage.”
Vincent straightened his back. A part of him expected her to demand something dramatic, some ironclad contract with clauses and signatures, a legal safeguard against his power. He waited.
But Helen wasn’t that predictable. Instead, she met his gaze with a quiet seriousness.
“Please give me a year. I want to stay in this town for now, as I still have some matters to settle before I can leave. And, my status as your wife remains a secret.”
She paused, her tone softening as though negotiating with a lion.
“Once our marriage is legally recognized, I’m willing to move with you. But, just so you know, I can’t stay in the capital. Somewhere nearby… close enough, but not inside.”
Vincent’s expression changed. A confused flash crosses his eyes. “Why can’t you stay and live in the capital?”
Helen hesitated, her lips curling into a faint, bitter smile. She had kept this secret long enough.
“Because of my father,” she finally responded. “I signed an agreement with him… part of the condition when he disowned me from Tupper. I’m not allowed to return to the capital for the rest of my life. So… I can’t return there.”
The words struck Vincent like a bolt of lightning, causing his composure to break for the first time that evening.
“What? Did he really own this country? Why the hell does he make you sign that?”
Helen smiled faintly, watching his disbelief with amusement. “Surprised?”
“William Tupper banned you from the entire capital?” Vincent’s tone was low, dangerous, his sharp jaw tightening.
Helen laughed bitterly, shaking her head.
“Well, don’t ask me, Mr. Moretti. If you’re so curious, ask the mighty William Tupper himself. I’m not related to him anymore and I don’t know anything about him…”
Her teasing only deepened the color in his face, though his expression quickly shifted back to his usual icy calm.
His gaze softened on her, and when he spoke again, it was with quiet certainty.
“Don’t worry about him. Believe me, he didn’t own Elaris! And Helen, once you become my legal wife, he won’t be able to harm you.”
The words sent Helen’s heart racing. Again. She hated how easily he could stir her.
“A-Vincent…” she stammered, her chest tightening. “Even if we marry on paper, I want to stay hidden. Unknown to the public. I don’t want…”
Her words trailed off, her throat tightening. She couldn’t bring herself to finish. Instead, she only looked at him, her wide eyes reflecting all her unspoken fears.
Vincent’s gaze stayed on her, clearly showing he didn’t like her words.
The idea of hiding her directly challenged his pride. He wanted the world to know she belonged to him.
And of course, he wanted William Tupper to see that he married his cast-out daughter. Maybe that old man will die from shock.
“You don’t want anyone to know we’re married?” he asked, sounding surprised. “Why not?”
“Because I want my life to stay peaceful. If the media finds out, if your enemy finds out, my life will be chaos. Paparazzi hunting me down, women glaring daggers at me because I ‘stole’ their perfect Mr. Moretti… I don’t need an army of angry women clawing at my back.”
For a moment, Vincent simply stared at her, then, unexpectedly, he laughed. The low, amused sound filled the air, catching Helen off guard.
“I’m serious, Vincent!” She glared at him.
“I know.” His smirk lingered as his eyes burned into her. “But Helen… I don’t want a shadow marriage. I don’t want a fake marriage. I want a real wife. My actual woman. The mother of my son.”
Her cheeks feel hot, and her throat tightens. No man had ever spoken to her like this; so direct, so genuine, so absolute.
Dangerous. That was what Vincent Moretti was. Manly, arrogant, and terrifyingly dangerous. And yet her heart skipped anyway.
‘God help me. I can’t turn back now. He has me in his grip.’
For a brief moment, she slipped into her thoughts, completely forgetting the sharp-eyed predator in front of her who was still studying her every reaction.
“What are you thinking about that made your face so red?” Vincent asked suddenly, his voice teasing. “Oh… wait. Did you think about our one-night stand?”
Helen’s eyes widened.
“I did not!” she snapped, glaring at him, though her voice was shaking. “How could you even assume that?”
His lips curved in a faint smile.
“Why not? Don’t be shy. We’re not strangers, Helen. We’ve already done that, and we have a three-year-old son to prove it. Don’t forget.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came. She had not been thinking about that, but now, thanks to him, the memory crashed into her; his heat, his touch, the wild night that changed her entire life.
And the more she tried not to think about it, the more her mind betrayed her.
Vincent continued to savor the storm of emotions flickering across her face. He liked seeing her flustered. It was a rare sight.
Her pulse quickened, her lips pressed tightly shut. She refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting anything.
