Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
“Thank you…” he said and walked as if he lived there. It caused Helen to sigh deeply as she closed the door behind her.
Vincent didn’t sit down; he placed the paper bag on the coffee table.
Then, stood in the middle of the living room, his tall frame filling the cramped space as his eyes roamed over every corner. The silence stretched. He didn’t have to say anything; his expression spoke volumes.
The entire apartment was barely the size of his study back in the capital. He took in the three-seater sofa, the small kitchen tucked to the side, and the narrow hallway leading to the bedrooms.
A heaviness pressed against his chest. The thought of his son, Helen, living here… It’s bothering him.
For a brief moment, Vincent imagined them in a different place; bigger, brighter, safer.
And the only way to make that happen is to process their marriage, get them out of this suffocating place, and give them the life they deserve.
After one last look at the room, he turned back to Helen.
“I’m sorry to stop by this late,” he said, his voice no longer as cold as before. “But I didn’t have a choice… I already promised Oliver.”
Helen exhaled, “I know… he asked me about it.” She rubbed at her temple, fatigue making her shoulders feel heavy. “I already explained you’re busy in the capital and would probably come tomorrow. So… you can return tomorrow.”
Vincent studied her closely, “Why do you look like you hate me?” he asked.
Her lips parted in surprise. ‘Hate him? Why would she hate him?’
She really didn’t have the energy to humor him now with her sarcastic words.
“I’m not,” she said quickly, though her voice carried the weight of exhaustion. “I’m glad you’re here, Vincent. But I’m drained… I haven’t slept since coming back from the hospital. And… two days in the hospital, I can barely sleep.”
Something flickered in his expression. Regret. He looked away briefly, the tension in his shoulders easing.
“Ah. Sorry.” His voice softened, quieter than before. “Alright, I’ll come tomorrow morning.”
He turned and left without saying another word. However, before opening the door, he paused and looked back at her.
Helen was about to scold him.
But before she could speak, he asked, “Helen, have you told Oliver about me?”
“Yes!”
For the first time, she saw him smile, a smile meant just for her. Her heart fluttered in her chest, beating a little faster.
The door clicked shut, and silence returned, but not her heart and mind.
“Vincent Moretti, how can I sleep now?”
The alarm blared loudly, like an angry mother-in-law, waking Helen from her deep sleep.
Her eyes fluttered open to darkness. The curtains remained drawn, and the room was heavy with night.
Perfect. The world’s still asleep. Which means she should be, too.
But the alarm refused to give in, buzzing and screeching as if it had a personal grudge.
She sighed and stretched her stiff arm to the nightstand, grabbing her phone and nearly knocking over the lamp.
After turning off the alarm, for a glorious second, she thought she might drift back into sleep. However, Vincent Moretti’s presence suddenly fills her thoughts.
Helen massaged her forehead in frustration. ‘Of course.’ The man haunted her even before sunrise.
She had told him last night he could come for breakfast, and now she was trapped by her own words.
It wasn’t like she could cancel on him. What was she going to say?
‘Sorry, Vincent, breakfast is canceled because I’m still half-dead from sleep. Also, I don’t feel like cooking for a terrifyingly perfect-handsome man today.’
Yeah. That would go over well.
Another sigh escaped Helen’s lips as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and tied her hair back, trying to summon the will to start her day.
‘You can do this, Elle. It’s just breakfast. With Vincent. Who happens to be Oliver’s father…’
Before she could stand, her phone chimed again.
“BEEP.”
Her brows knitted.
‘Already?’
She snatched up the phone, squinting at the message.
“Good morning. Can I come in now?” From: Vincent Moretti
She turned her gaze, glancing at the clock, her eyes widened. Six. In. The. Morning.
Helen chuckled as she looked at the cell phone screen and shook her head.
‘My goodness, Vincent… Did you sleep at all? Or are you just sitting at your comfy sofa and plotting ways to raise my blood pressure?’
A humorless laugh escaped her lips.
Of course, he’d be awake at this ungodly hour. Of course, he’d be standing outside her door like some flawless, brooding nightmare of punctuality. He is Vincent Moretti; no one could predict what he wanted to do.
Her thumbs flew over the screen.
“I just woke up. Come in thirty minutes!!”
The moment she hit send, she tossed the phone onto the bed.
Thirty minutes. That was all she had to transform from sleep-deprived zombie into a semi-presentable human.
She bolted to the bathroom, chanting curses under her breath as she splashed cold water on her face.
The mirror did her no favors; Puffy eyes, tangled hair, and the general aura of a woman who had just lost a wrestling match with her alarm clock.
“Perfect!” Helen dabbed at her cheeks with a towel.
After she had cleaned herself, she rushed to open the drawer and pulled out the decent casual home clothes.
The last thing she wanted was to look like she’d rolled out of bed for him, even if that was precisely what happened.
Pulling on the oversized cotton-white shirt and pairing it with yoga pants, she saw her reflection again.
“Not bad, girl!” She smiled, stared at herself.
However, her smile froze when another “BEEP” sounded from her cell phone.
Helen froze when she saw her cell phone screen. It was Vincent again.
“I’m outside. I didn’t ring the bell because I was afraid I’d wake Oliver.” From: Vincent Moretti
Her eyes widened.
‘What the heck, Vincent!’
She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes. Not even. She had barely brushed her hair, and the man was already standing outside.
“Gosh… so impatient,” she muttered under her breath. “What is wrong with him? Is waiting to arrive at seven too long for him?”
She decided to ignore him. He could wait. If Vincent Moretti wanted breakfast, then he could learn the art of patience. With that in mind, she marched toward the kitchen to at least start cracking some eggs.
Her phone buzzed again.
“Are you still sleeping? Okay, I’ll push the bell to wake you up.” From: Vincent Moretti.
Her eyes widened.
‘Don’t you dare, Vincent Moretti…’ She dashed toward the door, yanking it open before the sound could shatter Oliver’s peaceful dreams.
But, surprisingly, no one was there.
She blinked into the empty hallway.
‘Huh? Where is he?’ Her brows furrowed as she stepped into the hall, scanning left and right. ‘Did he just… text-threaten me with a doorbell and then vanish?’
Her lips parted in disbelief.
“Heaven! Did he just prank me?”
Shaking her head, Helen was about to close the door when the faint click of another door opening made her pause. She stares at the unit next door.
Helen tensed up as Vincent stepped out, calm and seemingly effortless, as if it were just another typical morning. He moved toward her with the grace of someone who knew he didn’t have to try.
He looked like he had just stepped out of a glossy magazine. Wears a tailored dark shirt with sleeves casually rolled up, hair perfectly styled, with not a single sign of sleep in his sharp features.
