Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
No such luck.
Vincent finally shifted his eyes to Dylan.
The poor man instantly stiffened like a soldier caught in the wrong trench. “B-Boss…” he stammered, his voice cracking. Then he turned his gaze to Helen. He smiled to break the awkwardness, “La-Lady Boss…”
Helen’s eyebrows rose. Gradually, almost dramatically, she turned her head toward Dylan, her eyes narrowing.
Dylan gulped. ‘Oh no. Oh hell no. I’ve been drafted into this war.’
“Out,” Vincent commanded smoothly.
“Y-Yes, Boss!” Dylan bolted, nearly tripping over his own feet as he hurried out of the elevator and pressed himself against the wall, silently apologizing to the universe for every mistake that had led him here.
The elevator doors stayed open.
Vincent stepped inside. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. His entire posture said, “Follow me.”
Helen stayed rooted to the spot. Her eyes narrowed in pure defiance. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Vincent!”
Finally, Vincent turned, his gaze calm, “Helen, you can either walk into this elevator like a civilized person…” His lips curved into a smirk. “…or I can carry you in. Your choice.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He smiles. The kind of smile that makes her heart flutter once more. “Oh, I would.” His tone is casual. “Or worse…”
Dylan, still glued to the wall, whispered under his breath, ‘Oh, I’ve definitely seen worse…’
Helen silently let out a deep sigh as she briefly turned to look at her house door. She actually didn’t want to follow him now, leaving Oliver alone in the apartment.
Sensing her worry, Vincent looks at Dylan and says, “Go, accompany my son. He’s alone…” then turns to Helen, urging her to step into the elevator.
“Yes, sir,” Dylan said and hurried toward the door.
“We won’t be long, Helen. And you don’t need to worry about Oliver, Dylan will stay with him,” Vincent said as she finally entered the elevator.
And just like that, the doors slid shut, swallowing them into round two of their private war.
“Where are we going?” Helen asked casually, though the sharp edge in her voice betrayed her reluctance to follow him.
“Can you drive?”
She froze, utterly speechless. Unbelievable! She asked a question, and he answered with another one. And his question sounds so silly, it almost made her laugh.
Turning toward him, she tilted her head back slightly, forced to look up at his towering frame.
“What kind of question is that? Why on earth would you think I can’t drive?”
“Ah, so you can.” His lips curved faintly. “Good.”
Not wanting to waste her breath arguing with him again, Helen exhaled and shifted her gaze toward the elevator doors. Only then did she realize they were heading down to the basement parking lot.
Her brow arched. “We’re going outside? As in… driving?”
Vincent didn’t answer.
“Vincent, can I at least grab my phone first? I need…”
The sharp “ding” of the elevator stopped her.
The doors slid open, and without a glance back, Vincent stepped out.
“Follow me.”
Helen cursed under her breath but trailed after him. Her steps faltered abruptly when her eyes landed on the gleaming, brand-new SUV parked right in front of them, wrapped with a massive red ribbon.
‘My God! Did he just buy me a car?’
An incredulous laugh bubbled in her chest as she moved to stand beside him.
“Vincent, I know you’re rich and can buy cars the way other people buy candy, but I can’t accept something this expensive. And the way I live now, I don’t need a car.”
His brow furrowed. “I didn’t buy it for you, Helen.” He paused, his deep voice calm. “It’s for our son, Oliver.”
Her entire face flushed hot.
‘God, if You truly exist, please… Please… teleport me out of here right now. Anywhere. Just not here.’
She’d embarrassed herself by assuming it was for her. But hold on… If it wasn’t for her, then… why Oliver?
“Vincent,” she said carefully, trying to keep her voice steady, “you do know Oliver can’t drive, right?”
“I know.” His expression didn’t shift an inch. “But you can… Drive for him.”
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. This man was going to drive her insane.
‘Isn’t that basically the same as giving it to me?’
Helen inhales deeply before exhaling, glaring at the shiny SUV as if it were her newest enemy.
She tries to calm her emotions. Because she knew arguing with Vincent would only go in circles, and worse-he’d win.
Helen had no choice but to accept the car.
After all, she didn’t even own one.
For the past four years in this small town, her life had been simple. She walked everywhere, through markets, to the cafe or beach.
Whenever she needed to go as far as Grayenfall City, she’d either call a taxi when one miraculously appeared or borrow Martha’s old sedan.
But Vincent’s words kept replaying in her mind, striking harder than she wanted to admit: “What if there’s another urgent situation, like Oliver’s injury a few days ago? What if I didn’t arrive on time? How are you supposed to get a taxi that quickly in this town?”
That alone had melted her. She couldn’t argue with him, not when he was right.
The thought of another emergency left her stomach in knots. Refusing him would mean gambling with her son’s safety and well-being, and that, she could never do.
So she accepted the SUV, not for herself, but for Oliver. At least, that’s what she told herself as her pride nagged in protest.
After a short discussion about the car, Helen didn’t wait around to entertain Vincent any longer.
He had his own business to return to in the capital, and she had enough of a headache already.
Talking to him was like banging her head against a stone wall; pointless and exhausting.
But just as she turned toward the elevator, ready to escape, his voice stopped her.
“Helen.”
She froze, her hand still in the air after pressing the elevator button.
“We’ll sign the papers tomorrow. Ten in the morning. At my place. Prepare yourself.”
“Papers? What pap…”
By the time she turned around to confront him, he was already slipping into his sleek black car.
A moment later, the engine roared to life, and with a smooth motion, the car pulled out of the basement.
She stood there, stunned, watching the car leave the basement.
“Seriously?!” Helen muttered, her voice echoing off the concrete walls. “What papers?”
Silence answered.
Her lips twisted into a disbelieving laugh.
“Did he… did he mean our wedding papers?”
Hearing her own words instantly took her breath away.
For a moment, she just stared at the empty exit, as if it might somehow spit Vincent out with an explanation. Of course, it didn’t.
Her chest tightened, a sudden, unwelcome squeeze that made her heart pound against her ribs.
The truth sank in quickly: if he genuinely meant what she believed, tomorrow she wouldn’t just be Helen Taylor, a single mother and former heiress. She would become Helen Moretti.
Vincent Moretti’s wife.
Her laugh sounded hollow, filled with disbelief and nerves.
‘Congratulations, Elle. Congratulations on your brand-new adventure… as Vincent Moretti’s wifey.’
The sarcasm burned hot in her mind, but beneath it, she couldn’t quite suppress the ripple of fear, or was it anticipation? Twisting through her veins.
She pressed her palm against her chest as if that would calm her racing heart.
