Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
His lips brushed against hers, soft, warm, unhurried. A kiss so gentle it stole her breath without demanding anything in return. Sweet. Simple. Enough to make her chest flutter like it had sprouted wings.
Helen froze, caught off guard by the kiss. This wasn’t the kiss of a man staking a claim or showing power. It was… tender. Respectful.
And that was precisely why her heart betrayed her.
‘Why does it feel like this? Why does it feel… nice? Oh no…’
But her body wasn’t listening. Her stomach twisted with nervous butterflies. Her fingers tingled where he still held her hand. And the faint brush of his breath lingered against her lips long after he pulled away.
It was over in a heartbeat. Yet to her, it felt like time had stretched, warped, then snapped back all at once.
She feels her mind scream at her to think of something sarcastic, something witty, anything that could save her from the heat rising in her cheeks. But all she could manage was… “…Oh.”
Before she could bury herself under the flower arch, Oliver clapped his small hands together with uncontainable delight.
“Yay! Daddy kissed Mommy!”
The rooftop erupted in sound. Dylan’s camera clicking like a machine gun, Liam failing to hide his grin, Oliver giggling proudly as if he’d single-handedly orchestrated this entire scene.
Helen, meanwhile, stood frozen in her place, her lips tingling, her pulse refusing to calm down.
She turned, desperate to see Vincent’s expression. But of course, the man was unreadable. Calm.
Her gaze narrowed. ‘How dare he kiss me like that and then look like he just signed another boring contract?’
…
After the kiss, everything seemed to blur. They are moving to Vincent’s house for the family lunch.
Helen expected something stiff and formal, perhaps an endless parade of dishes no one could pronounce.
Instead, the chef had prepared surprisingly warm food: fragrant rice, roasted chicken, fresh salad, roasted beef, a few side dishes she instantly recognized, and even Oliver’s favorite soup. All the food she usually cooked.
‘How did Vincent know about this? Oh my god… Did Vincent bribe Oliver for the menu?’ Either way, she had to admit Vincent Moretti knew how to impress her without saying a word.
They were having their lunch together, though “together” was a strong word.
Vincent ate with the same calmness he usually displayed.
Helen tried her best not to choke under the quiet weight of his presence.
And Oliver, he no longer plays the role of a cupid for them. He, of course, chatted nonstop, happily filling in any silence with stories about toys, superheroes, and the cake he wanted for his next birthday.
By the afternoon, Oliver had gone home with Liam and Dylan, leaving Helen and Vincent alone in the spacious living room.
To her own surprise, she was already starting to get used to him being around.
The silence between them no longer felt suffocating. But it was manageable.
They sat across from each other in the living room, the golden afternoon light spilling through the broad, majestic windows.
Vincent leaned back in his seat, relaxed but with a clear air of authority, as if the whole house revolved around him.
Helen tucked her legs to the side, trying to look as comfortable as he did, though her fingers kept fidgeting with the hem of her dress.
That’s when he casually dropped it, as if he were announcing the weather. “The fifth floor of the apartment will be under renovation soon, starting tomorrow. You and Oliver will move temporarily to the fourth floor. The unit is ready.”
“I’m sorry… what? Renovation? Is that really necessary?”
His brows rose slightly, as if her question was the surprising part.
“Vincent, I’ll only be here for six months. Oliver and I can live a normal life. It doesn’t have to be complicated-“
Her words trailed off when a sudden thought struck her. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Oh, wait! Vincent, you won’t be here every day, will you?” Helen’s tone softened with genuine worry. “I mean, you’d have to fly back and forth from the capital all the time. That’s hours of driving or flying, tons of fuel will empty your wallet. And, you’ll wear yourself out.”
Instead of responding to her concern, Vincent’s gaze turned intense, his reply coming down hard on her hesitation. “Come on, this isn’t about us, Helen. It’s for Oliver.”
Helen blinked, startled. Before she could gather herself to respond, he continued.
“In Oliver’s mind, parents live together in one house. Not in separate apartments. And definitely not in separate bedrooms.” His eyes met hers with quiet intensity. “We can’t let him feel like this is fake, right?”
She almost choked on her own breath.
‘Seriously, Vincent? Parents living together in one house? Not in separate bedrooms? Did you think I was na
Her inner voice burst out in an incredulous laugh.
‘This is just your trick to share a bedroom with me, isn’t it?’ The thought alone made her cheeks flush.
Once that spark started, she couldn’t help but picture all these steamy, kinda inappropriate images flooding her mind; Vincent’s husky voice in the dark, his hand brushing hers under the sheets, his warmth pressing against her back.
‘Oh. My.Godness! Elle, stop it!’ She clenched her teeth, mentally slamming the door on that train of thought before it derailed completely.
She parted her lips to speak, but nothing came out. So she closed them again, struggling to keep her composure. Not to show any expression to him.
But of course, Vincent noticed. And because he was Vincent Moretti, he didn’t pause, didn’t falter, he just kept going, as if he’d already planned every detail.
“We’ll combine the two apartments into one large unit,” he said smoothly, like he was presenting a business proposal instead of casually rewriting her entire life. “A proper master bedroom for us. A larger room for Oliver. And an office for you.”
Helen stared at him, wide-eyed. Surprised to hear his last sentence.
“…An office?” she repeated, blinking like she hadn’t heard right.
Of all the things he could’ve thrown at her, the master bedroom, the merging of apartments, but the one word that hooked her attention was office.
Because that was precisely what she wanted.
All this time, she had been juggling her work on the kitchen island, the dining table, or on the sofa. She didn’t have a dedicated space to think, to focus, to breathe.
“Yes,” Vincent confirmed with a slight raise of his brow, as if he’d been waiting for her to catch up. “You told me you wanted a home office if you moved in with me in the capital, didn’t you?”
“Ah, you’re right…” She had forgotten entirely about ever mentioning it to him.
Vincent tilted his head, studying her. “What kind of work do you do from home, Helen? Do you need my help to open an office for you? Or…” he paused enough to add the tension.
“Or, what?” She asked, worried he would tease her again.
“Do you want me to open a branch of your cafe in the capital? That way, you don’t have to worry about it.” His tone softened, surprisingly genuine.
She froze, caught off guard by the way his words weren’t dripping with teasing, arrogance, or control, but care. Real care.
Before she could untangle her thoughts enough to respond, he leaned forward slightly, sealing the deal with quiet assurance.
“Don’t worry. My people only need a week to finish it.”
“A week? You mean the apartment renovation?”
He nods.
“To combine two whole apartments? That’s… insanely fast!”
“Well, they’re the best,” he replied, pride glinting in his eyes. “If I asked, they could finish it in a single day. But I’d rather they take their time.”
She let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. “A week is your version of taking time?”
“Yes.” He didn’t even blink.
Helen pressed her palms together, exhaling slowly. Renovating wasn’t the problem. Nope. But the problem will appear after the renovation is done.
‘My God… a week. Just one week. And then… a master bedroom for me and my lawfully wedded husband. Vincent Moretti.’
Her heart gave a traitorous skip. The thought of sharing a roof with him was already overwhelming. But sharing a room? Sharing a bed… while sober, while awake, while fully aware it was him?
Desperate for a distraction, she blurted out, “Vincent… I thought you were supposed to be some insanely busy entrepreneur who never even has time to eat properly. Yet here you are, sitting with me in the middle of the day. Why?”
His gaze lifted, a flicker of confusion shadowing his face.
“What do you mean by that question? Of course I’m here, we just finalized our wedding paper.”
“I mean…” She gestured vaguely, her hands flailing as if they could shape her thoughts into words. “Don’t you have empires to run? Meetings to yell at people in? Stocks to manipulate? You could just stay in the capital and visit on weekends. Oliver and I would be fine here.”
His brows furrowed, and his voice remained steady and confident. “Helen, we are married.”
“Oh. Right.” She forced a laugh, but it came out awkward, like glass about to shatter. “So sorry, this is all so fast. I’m still not used to it.”
Silence stretched between them. Not an empty silence, but a heavy one, filled with unspoken words, unsaid truths.
She looked away first, her eyes skimming over the interior of his home. Anything to avoid his gaze.
Not long after, she dared to voice her thoughts again, “But Vincent… don’t change too much just because of us. Keep doing your thing. We’ll be fine.”
A low chuckle slipped past his lips, “I haven’t changed. I’m simply doing what I need to do.”
