Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Helen gasped, pulling Vincent’s hand to get his attention.
Vincent didn’t answer. Of course, he didn’t.
But Dylan, without even waiting for instructions, lifted his camera and began snapping photos.
Helen’s first instinct was to scold Vincent for not complying with her request; no wedding ceremony was a surprise.
But then she remembered she was wearing a gown. She had makeup on, and her handsome little son was with them. A camera was pointed directly at them. So instead of protesting, she smiled and posed like a perfectly composed bride.
“Mrs. Moretti,” Vincent finally said something.
“Mrs. Moretti,” Vincent finally said something.
Helen’s stomach flutters each time he calls her that.
“Let’s go,” he added, as if he’d just asked her for a casual walk instead of leading her into what looked dangerously close to an actual wedding ceremony.
Before she could ask what on earth he was doing now, Oliver, already way ahead of them, scampered toward the seats with cake in his little hands. He plopped himself down like this was all perfectly rehearsed, while Liam sat beside him to help.
Helen froze, watching the scene unfold.
‘Wait. Has… has my son been briefed on this? Did he rehearse? Why does he look like he’s known all along?’
She laughed inwardly, looking at her son, who didn’t look surprised. Not one bit. In fact, he looked like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.
‘My goodness… Vincent, when did you start planning all of this?’ she wonders while looking up at him.
“W-where…?” she started to ask, her voice shaky.
Vincent didn’t bother answering. He just tightened his grip and led her toward the flower arch.
Her chest tightened. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest. Nervous.
‘Oh, God. Don’t say it. Don’t tell me we’re about to have an actual ceremony… Walking down the aisle with music. Then later, we will exchange vows. And… Will he give me a ring? No. Please, God…No!’
And then music floated into the air. Soft. Romantic. Perfectly timed.
Helen nearly stumbled over her own feet. Her eyes widened. Her soul practically evacuated her body.
‘Seriously, God? Why do you hate me?’
Her feet felt like they weren’t hers anymore. Her pulse was wild. Every step closer to that arch felt like stepping into some alternate reality, one where Helen Taylor had ceased to exist and Helen Moretti was about to be kissed in front of a flower arch with a toddler as witness.
She swallowed hard, her eyes darting everywhere for escape, but she found none.
Instead, Vincent’s grip was firm, unrelenting. His face was calm, unreadable. Her son grinning at them like the proudest matchmaker alive.
And her heart? A chaos.
Oliver clapped again, cake forgotten.
“Yayyy! Mommy’s walking with Daddy! Like a princess!”
Helen’s face is hot. ‘Oh, wonderful. My three-year-old has officially joined Team Vincent…’ She feels her brain has officially left the building. Her body was walking, her hand still in his gentle but firm grip.
Vincent glanced down at her as if he could read every frantic thought running through her mind.
Gently, his thumb brushed over her knuckles, and he whispered, “Relax and breathe normally, Helen. It’s just a wedding photo…. Not the surprise wedding. Relax.”
She shot him a look that could take someone else’s life.
‘Just a photo? Excuse me, Sir, this looks like the opening scene of a royal wedding documentary.’
Despite her sulk, her feet kept moving. Because somehow, when he held her hand like this, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to run away… or never let go.
‘Okay, take a long and deep breath, Elle. You’re not about to faint in front of Dylan and Liam. You won’t be remembered as the bride who collapsed during the fake wedding ceremony. Be strong….’
Dylan’s camera clicked nonstop. He didn’t even ask. He just documented them like a professional photographer.
“Smile, Mrs. Moretti,” Dylan said with a grin.
Her head snapped toward Vincent. “You bribed them, didn’t you?!”
Vincent smiled, “Do I look like the type who bribes?”
“Obviously!”
“If you think their insane amount of monthly checks is a bribe, then, yes, I’m bribing them…” he says with a playful tone, locking his gentle gaze with hers.
Helen couldn’t say anything as they both now stood beneath the flower arch.
‘Now what? Should I face him? Or my cute baby?’ she wondered, then decided to turn and look at their only guest.
Oliver suddenly jumped off his chair, nearly tripping over his little suit pants, and came running toward them. He tugged on Helen’s skirt, his round eyes sparkling.
“Mommy… Stand pretty! Daddy’s standing pretty!” He said before returning to his seat.
Helen slightly frowned. She didn’t even know how to “stand pretty.” Was that a thing? She glanced down at her stiletto, then up at Vincent, who stood like he was about to pose for the magazine cover of Billionaire Edition.
“Relax, smile toward the camera…” Vincent murmured, low enough that only she could hear. His thumb brushed over her knuckles again. “It’s just for Oliver. He wanted this.”
Her eyes darted to her son, who was now clapping again and chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss! Daddy… Must kiss the bride…”
“Excuse me?!” She can’t believe her son also knows about it. She remembers never watching a romance movie with him.
‘Where did he see a wedding ceremony, and where did the groom kiss the bride?’
Helen ignores Oliver and urges Dylan to take as many pictures as possible for Vincent’s document; he still seems eager to pursue the idea of sending their wedding picture to William Tupper.
Dylan’s camera shutter sped up like it was salivating at the drama.
Vincent, of course, didn’t flinch. Instead, he poses and smiles, as if they were in their real wedding ceremony.
“Okay, done! Can we go home now?” she asked Vincent, while still staring at Dylan’s camera.
Before Vincent could answer her, suddenly Oliver shouted again, “Daddy… Why don’t you kiss mommy?” His gaze clearly showed worry and disappointment in them. But Helen failed to notice it.
Helen gazes at Vincent, “Don’t you dare…” She whispers only for him to hear it.
But of course, her adorable son could hear it too. Oliver puffed out his cheeks, looking betrayed.
“Mommy… in cartoons, the princess and prince always kiss after the wedding!”
Helen’s eyelashes fluttered as she slowly turned her gaze toward Mister Cupid.
She smiles at him, “Sweetheart, Mommy is not a Disney princess. And…”
Her sentence trailed off when Vincent’s deep, calm voice was heard above them. “He’s not wrong…”
Helen turned to see him, protesting through her eyes. She wasn’t protesting because she didn’t want to kiss him. No. But she was just worried that if they did, she’d get an answer she wasn’t ready to admit.
Vincent leaned closer, his voice a low whisper meant only for her.
“It’s tradition, Helen. Why are you so shy? Unless…” his lips curved faintly, “you secretly like me. Is that why you’re hesitant?”
Helen’s eyes widened, “Excuse me? You are the one who said there’s no love in this marriage. No love, no kiss. End of story. That’s the end of the tradition!”
Her words tumbled out faster than her heartbeat. She wanted to sound firm, but she could hear the slight tremor in her own voice. Wonderful. Exactly what she needed, the mighty, unreadable Vincent Moretti, knowing she was nervous.
But Vincent didn’t snap back. He didn’t roll his eyes. Instead, his gaze flickered briefly toward Oliver-sitting on a chair, happily munching on cake like he was at the best show in town-before returning to her.
When Vincent spoke again, his tone softened, low enough that only Helen could hear him in the midst of the continuous clicking of cameras.
“Helen, relax. It’s just a kiss. Nothing more. I promise I won’t cross the line. I respect your choice… to wait until our hearts are ready.”
Her heart tightened.
Wait. Did he really just say that? Vincent Moretti, the ruthless CEO, is promising restraint and respect? That was not in the rulebook for a powerful man like him to behave. And that was definitely not in line with the terrifying reputation she’d heard about him.
Her cheeks burned. It felt hot enough to fry an egg. Great. Now she was blushing like some lovestruck teenager.
‘Pull yourself together, Elle… He’s only teasing. He’s always teasing.’
She realized that hesitating would only make her appear more embarrassed. Worse, Oliver was watching intently: her little boy, her cupid, her number-one cheerleader, would be disappointed. Right?
So before Vincent could say another infuriatingly calm word, she blurted, “Do it!”
Her voice rang louder than intended. For a heartbeat, everyone froze. Dylan’s camera clicked even faster. Liam coughed into his fist, poorly hiding a smile. And Vincent… Vincent’s gaze flashed with something almost like surprise.
But then he moved.
Slowly, he leaned closer. Helen nervously holds her breath. She wanted to back away, but her feet were rooted, her hands trapped in his firm grip. Her heart pounded so wildly she was sure even her son could hear it.
And then it happened.
