Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
He set the bag down in front of her and casually sank back into his seat, as if he had just brought groceries rather than hijacked her life.
Helen blinked to see the bag. For a moment, she just stared, too caught up in the whirlwind of the past few hours to process something so simple.
Then she unzipped it, and her breath caught. Her clothes. Her toiletries. Her phone. Her wallet, ID. Everything neatly folded, tucked inside with care.
Her heart tightened. When Oliver had been rushed into surgery, she hadn’t thought to bring a single thing with her. Her brain had shut down, running only in panic.
But somehow, Vincent had remembered what she couldn’t.
“Thank you, Vincent…” Her voice was soft, the words more fragile than she intended.
He gave her nothing more than a nod, watching her quietly.
“I really needed this,” she added quickly, almost babbling to fill the silence. “My phone, my ID card. I was going to use them to register Oliver…”
“There’s no need,” Vincent interrupted her, conveying the certainty of decisions already settled.
“Dylan already handled Oliver’s registration. What I need now is your ID card, so I can arrange to register our marriage.”
Her heart tightened. There it was again, that word “Marriage”; he said it so casually, like asking for her signature on a business deal, as if her whole future wasn’t trembling inside that single syllable.
Helen’s cheeks flushed as her fingers clenched the card in her hand. It wasn’t that she wanted to refuse. She couldn’t even deny it anymore; she had already accepted it.
Deep down, she knew this was inevitable. Vincent Moretti wasn’t a man who asked twice. He made a decision, and the world adjusted around him.
But still…
Hearing him say it out loud made her pulse race so hard she swore he could hear it.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, she held out the card. Her hand brushed his as he took it, and the contact sent a spark up her arm.
Vincent studied the ID card for a moment before looking back at her.
Helen feels her heart hammer in her chest. Give him her ID card… It means there’s no turning back now. Her status and her world are about to undergo a significant change. And it will last forever.
Her gaze dropped, cheeks burning, and she let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the weight pressing on her chest.
“You know… most people would ask nicely, maybe propose with flowers and a ring. But you just skip all the steps and go straight to registration,” she said to break the awkward silence.
Vincent’s brow furrowed slightly.
“Helen, are you seriously wanting all of those?” He asked. There’s no surprise. No falter or hesitation in his gaze. As if he’s asking that casually.
Helen didn’t give him an answer; she just smiled, clutching the bag on her lap. She wished she could leave that place, return to Oliver’s ward.
“Why waste time on things that don’t matter? Flowers wilt. Rings can be lost. What matters is the paper that binds you to me.”
Her heart pounded against her ribs. The way he said ‘Bind you to me’ should have terrified her, but instead, it only made her breath catch.
“Now, you make it sound like a real business contract,” she chuckled softly. However, her lips twitched at the corners despite her best effort to look unaffected.
Vincent tilted his head slightly.
“Here you go again, making me the villain here.” He laughed when he saw her face turn somewhat pale.
He casually adds, “No worries, Helen, I would never murder you. Besides, there’s no charming villain, right? I’m not one of them…”
“Are you kidding, right?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Yes, I’m kidding about the villain. But, if you really demand a romantic proposal. I will grant it to you.”
His words silenced her for a second. Then, she hurriedly shook her head to refuse.
“No need. I’m just teasing you, Vincent. To be honest, I don’t need those, either. And you are damn right… Flowers wilt. Rings can be lost.” She smiles.
“Good! But if you change your mind someday, just let me know…”
‘There won’t be someday, Vincent… There won’t be…’
Two days slipped by so fast, and mostly in a blur.
Oliver’s condition finally improved, and the doctor gave the green light for them to go home.
Helen is thrilled to return to her apartment and enjoy her own bed, the fresh air, and her latte.
Of course, she wanted to leave home quickly before Vincent returned, like the terrifying CEO-turned-overprotective-husband-in-training.
He had flown back to the capital yesterday for some “urgent business.” At least that he told her.
But obviously, her mind starts to guess; he’s probably moving mountains, crushing rivals, or buying a city for fun. Who knew?
But even when he’s away, the man is something. Vincent being “gone” doesn’t mean peace. No, he left her with a small army of his staff; efficient, polite, and terrifyingly good at their jobs.
She hadn’t touched a single hospital form. She hadn’t even seen a bill. Everything had been “taken care of.” By him. Naturally.
It was enough to make her both grateful and a little weird.
After four years of living and raising Oliver alone, she feels confident and independent.
She was perfectly capable of standing in line and signing a paper. Well… okay, maybe not perfectly capable, but still. Those were all things she usually did on her own.
“Ms. Taylor, this way…” Liam, Vincent’s right-hand man for the moment, gestured politely.
Helen pushed Oliver’s wheelchair behind him, saying nothing but simply following, until she saw what was waiting outside.
A gleaming luxury car park at the main entrance, as if it had been sent directly from a showroom.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Vincent…’
Her son looked up at her, confused, “Mommy?”
Helen forced a smile, though her mind raced; she worried someone would notice her, a ‘single mother,’ stepping into a car that’s more expensive than a small house.
She exhaled slowly, shook her head, and reminded herself she’d have words for him later.
…
After arriving at the apartment, Helen thanked Liam, although he insisted on doing more. He even offered to run errands and buy anything she needed.
“No, no, that’s fine,” she said quickly, her smile polite but firm.
The last thing she needed was Liam walking through the building with shopping bags in hand.
She could already picture the neighbors’ sharp eyes peeking through the hallway gaps.
Even though there are only two houses on her floor, the neighbors next door are never there. Still, she feels worried.
“Ms. Taylor, if you need something, please feel free to contact me,” Liam reminded gently after placing all her belongings neatly on the kitchen island.
Helen gave him a quick nod.
“Yes, sure…” she replied, ushering him toward the door like a polite hostess who was absolutely done hosting.
The second the door clicked shut, she leaned against it, exhaling dramatically. Freedom. Peace.
However, Oliver’s cute voice surprised her.
“Mommy!”
When she met her son’s innocent-looking gaze, she knew that look. It usually meant her day was about to get complicated.
“Where is Uncle Vincent? Why didn’t he come?” Oliver asked, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity.
Helen froze. Of course, her peace couldn’t last five minutes.
‘Why, son, why must you summon his name now?’ she thought while forcing a smile and joined him on the sofa. She crouched beside him.
“Uncle Vincent is… busy. Very, very busy. Important meetings, you know. Rich people things.” She wanted to say that, but those words all got stuck in her throat.
There was something important weighing on her now. The truth. She needed to tell her son that Uncle Vincent wasn’t his uncle at all; he was his father.
But those words… they stayed locked in her throat, refusing to leave her lips no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her mind.
“He’s busy with his business…” was all she managed to say, her voice softer than she intended.
Oliver’s eyebrows drew together in suspicion. “But he promised me he’d play cards with me today.”
Her chest tightened. Vincent really had promised. And knowing him, he probably meant it, too.
Helen let out a small sigh, brushing her son’s cheek with her thumb.
“He’ll come, sweetheart. Just… maybe not today.”
