Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
But inside, she was drowning.
She hated him for it. She hated herself for letting him get under her skin. And worst of all, she hated how much she didn’t hate it at all.
And,
Without warning, her mouth betrayed her hesitation as she asked, “Vincent Moretti, do you love me?”
“Vincent Moretti, do you love me?”
The temperature in the room suddenly dropped below zero.
‘Do you love me?’ The words echoed in Vincent’s head like a foreign language.
He suddenly had the absurd urge to laugh as he heard the word “love.”
Of all the ridiculous things this woman could ask, she chose that? His brows furrowed, as though the word itself was an insult.
“Love?”
“Yes. Love.” Helen’s voice was softer now, though a tiny, nervous smile tugged at her lips. “You keep insisting that our marriage be made public. And you keep saying it’s real…” She trailed off, suddenly aware of how ridiculous she sounded now.
Helen’s lips slightly curved into a faint smile, the kind of smile that made Vincent suspicious. He narrowed his eyes.
He knew that she wasn’t done yet. She was dangling him over a cliff just to see him sweat.
After a few more seconds, Vincent leaned back casually, but his gaze was sharp on her. “Yeah. So?”
Her heart raced, but she forced herself to meet his eyes. “So… I’m asking if you love me.”
For a long moment, silence stretched between them.
Vincent’s jaw tightened. He feels Helen had just asked him to hand over a vital organ. How ridiculous!
“Helen,” he said finally, his tone sharp, “…love doesn’t exist in my dictionary. So, you ask the wrong person.”
Helen was speechless. She tried not to laugh, but it escaped anyway, a small, almost helpless giggle.
“Well, of course it doesn’t. You probably burned that page years ago. Right, Mr. Moretti?”
Vincent shot his glare, and she quickly raised her hands in surrender.
She continued her words, “Come on, Vincent… don’t look at me like that. I’m not mocking you. I’m just,” she hesitated, biting her lip. “…trying to figure out what this means for me. For Oliver. For us.”
Her honesty softened his sharp gaze.
“Helen, I don’t believe in love. And my answer is… I don’t love you. Sorry if I disappointed you…”
Vincent let the words hang in the air, his voice calm, almost casual. But his eyes? His eyes didn’t match that tone. They held her, sharp and steady, like he was waiting for her reaction.
Helen’s playful smile faltered. She hadn’t expected him to just drop it like that, blunt and brutal. For a second, she felt embarrassed, as if he’d slapped her with words.
But then, slowly, a smile tugging at his lips, he added, “If you really want me to love you, I’ll try. I’ll learn. Just be patient with me… because I’ve never truly felt that way before.”
She suddenly lost her words, saw how serious his expression was now, and how casually he said those words.
‘Wait! What? He didn’t believe in love, but he was willing to “learn”? And he asked me to wait? Was he joking? Trying to act cool? Unbelievable!’
Before Helen could even decide how to respond, his voice cut in again, smooth and commanding.
“For me, I only believe in keeping what’s mine. You. Oliver. That’s not negotiable. So, to answer your question again, our marriage wasn’t based on love. And I believe you already knew I didn’t love you. Unless…”
Vincent hesitated, slightly frowning, with his sharp gaze unchanged.
Her heartbeat races.
“Unless what?” she asked carefully, trying not to sound too nervous or too curious.
Alex didn’t respond right away. He just looked at her face, his eyes moving over her blushing cheeks, noticing how her lashes flickered quickly in nervous fluttering.
“Unless…” he finally said, lips curling into a slow, dangerous smirk, “… you’re the one who loves me, Helen?”
“Cough! Cough!”
Helen nearly choked on her own spit. She slapped a hand against her chest, glaring at him like he’d just committed a crime.
Her mind screamed. ‘Excuse me?! Did he just…? How did he…? Gosh! Heaven, please strike him with your heavenly lightning, please…’
Vincent chuckled, low and amused, clearly enjoying her shocked expression.
“You are? Wow, this is shocking for me to know that Helen…” His smile stretched wider, like he’d just won something.
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she could feel it. Ugh. Just his look alone was enough to tell her what he was thinking: ‘See? I caught you. You love me, Helen!’
She wanted to scream at him, deny it, throw something, anything, to wipe that proud expression off his face.
But when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Her lips refused to move, betraying her completely.
‘What the hell? Who loves you? Not me!’ she shouted silently, shaking her head in frustration.
“Alright, Helen, no need to deny it if you’re shy. I get it…” He nodded, like he was granting her mercy.
“I’m not!” she snapped, finally finding her voice.
“Good,” he said smoothly, his tone far too satisfied for her liking. “Here’s the deal… If you want me to love you, then you have to teach me how… Deal?”
Her jaw dropped again.
‘What the heck…? Why am I suddenly the one insisting now?!’
Helen groaned internally, feeling like she’d stepped into a trap she’d set for herself. One small tease and now, bam! She was the one cornered.
Trying to play it off, Helen forced a nervous laugh.
“Vincent, you know, most people would just say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ But with you, everything has to sound like a business contract.”
He tilted his head, amused. “Well, maybe. But at least with me, you’ll never doubt where you stand.”
Her chest tightened, not from fear, but from the weight of his certainty. He wasn’t romantic, not even close. But, there was something in his voice, something so sure and possessive, that it made her stomach flutter against her will.
“Fine,” Helen turned her gaze away from him. Her lips betrayed her, curling into a reluctant smile. “Not love… but something close enough.” She whispered those last words so softly that only she could hear them.
Because if Vincent caught even a hint of what she really meant, he’d twist it again.
And then she’d be stuck here all night, arguing, digging herself deeper while he smiled like the devil who already owned her soul.
Helen stole a glance at him. Of course, he was still smiling, proud, infuriatingly gorgeous.
Her heart thudded hard against her chest.
‘Damn it! This man is going to be the death of me…’
And yet…
She couldn’t run away! Not now, not later.
“I read you’re about to get married?”
Vincent smirked at her question, his eyes shining with amusement. “Helen, now I have discovered your hobby… asking absurd questions.”
“What? Absurd? I’m not!” Helen blurted out, flustered. “I clearly read it on the internet this morning.”
A faint smile curved his lips, the kind that said he already knew. Of course, she’d seen it; she always seemed to catch him in the news.
“Well, Helen… It’s true,” he said smoothly. “I’m getting married soon.”
Her lips curled into a smile, but her eyes told a different story; sharp, filled with disbelief.
‘Unbelievable. Really unbelievable.’ Helen could only vent her frustration internally. ‘How could this man ask me to register our marriage when he was marrying someone else? He’s insane. Such a player!’
“You’re a player, Mr. Moretti,” she shot back, her voice filled with sarcasm. “No wonder you don’t love me, you already have another woman lined up, don’t you?”
The amusement drained from Vincent’s face. When he spoke again, his voice was no longer teasing; it was cold and sharp, “Helen Taylor,” he said steadily, “The woman I plan to marry is you. Nobody else.”
Helen froze, his words striking her like a sudden bolt of lightning.
Before she could say something, Vincent continued, “And, can you stop reading gossip headlines? That news was false.” his gaze locked on hers, uncompromising.
Her brows wrinkled, her lips twitching as if to argue. She wanted to tell him she didn’t read trash gossip, that she’d only stumbled across the article by accident this morning.
But, of course, the words caught in her throat. She was shocked to hear that the woman he wanted to marry was her.
Vincent didn’t give her the chance to say more. He rose from his seat with calmness, walked to the corner of the room, and returned carrying a travel bag.
“I sent someone to your cafe earlier,” he said casually, “Ms. Martha helped prepare your things. I hope you can find anything you need…”
