Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
“No, sweetheart,” Helen answered quickly, reaching out to hold his chubby little hand. She patted it gently, her eyes softening as she gazed into his slightly trembling ones.
“Of course, your daddy wants us. But… there’s a misunderstanding between Mommy and Daddy.”
“Misunderstanding?” Oliver asked, tilting his head. His little brow furrowed, sharp and curious.
Helen bit the inside of her lip. ‘Gosh, Elle… be careful with your words. He’s not just any child; he’s Vincent Moretti’s son. Too smart.’
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
“I’m sorry, darling. Mommy can’t explain it right now. It’s… complicated.”
The flicker of disappointment in his gaze stabbed straight into her heart.
Helen wanted to grab him, hold him tight, and tell him everything, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t put that kind of weight on his tiny shoulders.
So she cupped his cheek instead, her thumb brushing gently over his warm skin.
“But I promise you, sweetheart, your daddy won’t go anywhere. He’ll be with us again.”
Oliver’s face lit up instantly, his eyes shining like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.
“Really? He’ll stay with us?”
Relief enveloped her, her chest loosening for the first time since Vincent’s call.
She smiled, “Yes, pretty soon. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask him yourself when you see him.”
Oliver’s lips spread into a bright smile as he nodded eagerly. “Mommy, I believe you…”
His innocent voice nearly sent tears to her eyes as she felt her heart swell.
Then, with the kind of childlike trust that melted her, Oliver stood and wrapped his small hand tightly around hers. “I always believe you, Mommy.”
Helen’s heart clenched as she looked down at him. How could such a small boy hold such unwavering faith?
She bent down and kissed his forehead, breathing him in as if the simple act could steady her racing heart.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she whispered. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Oliver giggled softly, squeezing her hand again. “Then you don’t have to worry anymore, Mommy. If Daddy stays with us, we’ll all be happy, right?”
Helen smiled slightly.
“Ye-Yes,” she said, hugging him tightly. “We’ll all be happy.”
She wasn’t entirely honest with Oliver.
The truth was, she had no idea what the future held once they stepped into Vincent Moretti’s world. His world was dangerous, unpredictable, and nothing like the quiet, fragile life she had built for her son.
But one thing she knew for sure was that she would do anything, absolutely anything, to keep Oliver happy.
…
The rest of the day went by so fast.
She didn’t leave the apartment; instead, she chose to stay with her son, playing with his toys, reading a book to him, cooking for him, or sitting by his side to watch his favorite cartoons.
By nightfall, she was utterly exhausted.
Fortunately, Oliver finally fell into a deep sleep by nine. She feels relieved; at last, she has found her peace.
Helen felt her body heavy and sluggish, as if she were made of stone.
She ignored her phone, vibrating on the nightstand.
Whoever calls her, she won’t pick up the call. She had nothing left to give tonight. All she wanted was to collapse. Sleep!
Helen felt like a zombie, bone-tired, her body begging for rest. She slumped onto her bed, sinking into the softness, her eyelids already fluttering shut.
But before she could fall asleep, the sharp chime of the doorbell jolted her upright. Her heart jumped in her chest.
At this hour, only one person could have access to the fifth floor.
“Aunt Martha? Why would she come so late?” Helen muttered, glancing at the glowing green digital watch, 9:40 PM on the nightstand.
Careful not to wake Oliver, she pushed herself up and hurried to the door, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
She pulled the door open mid-whisper. “Aunt…” Her voice stopped in her throat.
Vincent Moretti stood tall before her.
Her breath feels like it’s stopped. For a second, she thought her exhausted mind was playing tricks on her.
But no, there he was, tall and impossibly composed, filling her doorway with that unmistakable presence.
“I’m not Aunt Martha,” Vincent said smoothly, “It’s me.”
Helen blinked. She couldn’t believe it. He is here, this is almost ten.
Vincent tilted his head slightly, eyes beaming with quiet amusement. “Why are you looking surprised to see me?”
“A-Vincent… what are you doing here?”
Helen’s voice trembled just slightly, though she tried to steady it. Seeing him, tall, composed, with sharp eyes in the dim hallway light, was the last thing she expected at this hour.
He tilted his head, as if her question was amusing, hands buried casually in the pockets of his long coat.
“Well, I called you. Five times. You didn’t answer.”
Her stomach twisted. He said it so matter-of-factly, like ignoring him was a crime punishable by midnight visits.
Heat rose to her cheeks, but whether it was anger, guilt, or something else fluttering inside her, she couldn’t tell.
Helen briefly turned a glance inside the apartment, where she checked Oliver’s bedroom. Her son was sleeping soundly, safe and peaceful.
She inhaled slowly before turning her gaze back on Vincent.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear… And I was tired,” she said, searching for words that wouldn’t betray her too much. “Vincent, I didn’t want to…” Her throat closed around the rest.
Vincent’s gaze sharpened, the corner of his mouth tilting slightly. “Didn’t want to see me?” His voice was low and smooth, but there was a sharpness in it.
Her hand tightened on the doorframe. She forced herself to meet his eyes, though her heart hammered in her chest, “It’s late. You should come back tomorrow.”
“Late doesn’t matter.” His reply was calm and unhurried. “I already promised Oliver I’d play with him. So I rushed here as soon as I finished business in the capital.” He added.
At her son’s name, her chest tightened once again. The memory of Oliver’s questions earlier this morning flickered in her mind.
“Oliver’s asleep,” she said softly, clinging to the excuse. “Come back tomorrow morning. We can have breakfast together…”
Vincent leaned forward slightly, close enough that she felt the weight of his gaze pressing against her skin.
“Then I’ll keep my voice down. Let’s talk…”
‘Talk? Again?’ Helen sighs deeply, feeling exhausted. She’s now half asleep and half awake.
“Vincent…” Her sigh carried every ounce of her exhaustion, every sleepless night. “You can’t just show up at my door like this.” Her brow arched, suspicion edging her words. “Ah, how did you even get inside? The building is secure. Only tenants can access the elevators and stairs.”
“Why not?” he asked casually, as if the question itself was irrelevant.
Her mouth fell open. Was he even serious? He acted like boundaries were just smoke, something he could walk right through without any trouble.
She narrowed her eyes at his gaze, “Seriously, how do you even have a key card?” she asked again, demanding his serious answer.
That was when his lips curved into the faintest smile.
“Well, Helen, I’m a tenant in this building. I bought the unit next door.”
For a moment, she thought she’d misheard him.
“Yo-Youu… what?”
“I live here now.” Her tone was calm and firm, as if the decision didn’t need explaining. “I’m your neighbor… Until our marriage documents are finalized!”
The words slammed into her, harder than she expected. Her gaze snapped to him, disbelief flashing in her eyes. “You bought the apartment next to mine?”
“Yes. That’s what I told you…” His answer was steady, as if it were the most straightforward truth in the world.
She still can’t believe he does that. Just because she refused to move to his hotel as he had wanted, he has now decided to become her neighbor instead.
“Why… why would you do that?”
His eyes soften as he looks at her flattering expression, “Because it was the closest one to you and Oliver. Can you allow me to enter? I need to place this present for our son.”
Without knowing, she opened the door wide to let him in.
