Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
Before Vincent’s gaze could land on her, she rushed toward the counter where her two baristas were frozen stiff, sneaking glances at him like giddy teenagers spotting a movie star.
‘Oh, fantastic…’ The last thing she needed was her staff taking a picture of Vincent and posting it on social media.
She strode over and lowered her voice. “Did either of you recognize the man in the black shirt?”
Both of them nodded furiously, still trying to peek around her shoulder.
“Stop looking at him!” Helen hissed, clapping her hands together like a kindergarten teacher trying to keep order.
“Sorry, ma’am,” they chorused with guilty smiles.
“Good. Now… lock the door. We’re closing.”
“Already done, ma’am. Mr. Moretti asked us to do it when we were on our way here.” One of them answered.
She gasped in surprise.
Of course, he had. Of course, Vincent would waltz in and order her staff around like he owned the place. Classic Moretti behavior. And with his charming and endearing commanding tone, every single cafe’s staff member would just listen to him with no question asked.
Helen shook her head while bitterly smiling.
“Fine. But listen carefully. No pictures, no posts, no texting your friends to brag. If anything leaks about him being here, it’ll be a nightmare.”
Both girls nodded again.
“Don’t worry. He already warned us. Said his lawyer would handle anyone who leaked.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve already made that promise to him.”
Helen blinked, then pinched the bridge of her nose. Of course he did. Threatening people with lawyers was practically his love language.
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. He always knew how to handle a situation before she even had a chance to think.
But when she dared another glance in his direction, her stomach twisted. He was staring right at her.
And oh, he wasn’t just looking. He was pinning her in place, his sharp eyes locked with hers. Her skin prickled like she’d been shoved under a spotlight.
“Are you going to keep me waiting?” His voice carried efficiently across the quiet cafe, calm but edged with amusement.
Heat rushed to her cheeks.
She flashed a warm smile and approached them.
“Hi Vincent,” she greeted, light and casual. Then she nodded at Dylan, who lifted his chin politely before Vincent gestured for him to leave them.
Dylan slid out without a word, and suddenly it was just the two of them, the espresso still steaming, the ocean sprawling endlessly outside, and Vincent Moretti, watching her.
“I called you many times,” he said, voice low. “You didn’t answer. My people told me you were here, so I came to pick you up.”
She forced a casual shrug. “Ah… sorry. I’ve been too busy to check my phone.” The lie nearly stuck in her throat.
The truth was uglier: she’d turned her phone off. She’d been too afraid she’d spend all day scrolling headlines about him, torturing herself with speculation. Turning her cell phone off was supposed to give her peace. Instead, it left her unprepared for… this.
He leaned back, unbothered, swirling the espresso.
“Busy?” he repeated, one brow arched, as if the word amused him.
Helen bit her lip. Her mind tried to come up with a dozen sarcastic words, but they all sounded desperate.
“Yes, busy. Some of us actually work for a living, you know,” she teased lightly, while sitting on another empty chair.
For a fraction of a second, his lips curved. “And yet, you’re here now.”
Her inner voice was screaming. ‘Yes, of course I’m here. This is my cafe. Did you forget I’m working? Should I thank you for locking my doors, or should I send you an invoice?’
Outwardly, she just exhaled. “I am. This is my business…and it seems someone booked this place the entire day? Thank you, Vincent, for helping our sales today…”
Rather than saying anything to answer her, he sipped his espresso and set the cup down on the table.
The silence lingers.
Helen tried to distract herself, looking anywhere but at him; at the waves glittering outside, at her staff pretending to polish cutlery. But inevitably, her gaze returned to him.
“Vincent,” she said finally, steadying her voice. “What exactly are you doing here? Don’t tell me you came just for the coffee.”
“No coffee. No business. I came here just for you.”
Instantly, Helen’s throat went dry. Her heart raced, and she had to remind herself not to flutter at his words. She exhaled silently, forcing her voice to stay calm. “Vincent, did you forget your promise?”
He tilted his head, feigning innocence.
“What promise?”
Her brows shot up. Of course, he’d pretend not to know.
“Appearing in public places with me,” Helen said.
She blew out a long sigh and cast her gaze toward the cafe windows, as though the whole beach might suddenly produce paparazzi with flashing cameras.
“What if someone snaps a photo of us and uploads it to social media? My peaceful little life here will end in flames-” Her words stalled when a thought struck her. Her hands clench into small fists on her lap.
“Oh no…” she whispered, then snapped her sharp gaze back at him.
“Wait. You do this on purpose, don’t you? So I’d be without any other option but to move out faster than planned. Am I right?”
His response? A laughter.
And not just a chuckle, an actual, rich laugh that made the air around him shift. Helen froze. Her heart skipped, stuttered, then soared as if it had grown wings.
This was the first time she had ever seen him laugh.
“You’re overthinking again, Helen.” He shook his head, still looking casual. Then, in that unshakable, matter-of-fact tone of his, he continued, “Do you see a few people outside?”
She glanced toward the windows. Sure enough, she saw silhouettes lingering at the edges of the boardwalk, too stiff, too watchful, definitely not tourists.
“They’re my people,” Vincent explained smoothly. “No one will be able to take a picture of us. So, relax. No need to worry.”
Helen feels a sense of relief.
But of course, he wasn’t finished.
His lips curved into that dangerous smirk, as if he was about to ruin her life with just one sentence.
“But, if you want us to keep sitting here for much longer, I can’t guarantee someone won’t break through my people.”
Her relief crumbled so fast.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. She pushed back her chair and stood. “Vincent, let’s go inside. Meet Aunty Martha first before we head home.”
Inside, Helen’s mind was worried: half scolding herself for letting his laugh rattle her, half panicking that Aunty Martha would faint when she realized Vincent Moretti was actually in her cafe.
…
Walking toward Martha’s house, Helen suddenly stopped, causing Vincent, who was trailing her with his usual calm stride, to nearly collide with her back.
His brows lifted in mild surprise.
“What’s with the sudden stop?” he asked, his deep voice steady, as if he already expected one of her lectures.
Helen inhaled deeply before turning to face him.
“Vincent, listen to me carefully. Martha is like my own family. She’s like my flesh and blood family, even when we’re not. Moreover, Oliver loves her like his own grandmother. So… Please drop your stiff, cold, arrogant expression. Just this once. Don’t you dare scare her.”
For a man who rarely showed more than a smirk or a glare, Vincent’s forehead creased with the faintest frown.
“I see. Alright, I will treat her as you expect me to.” His tone was calm, but there was something like amusement flickering in his eyes. “Any other special requests I need to know?”
Helen frowned, pretending to think, but really just stalling to keep her nerves from overwhelming her.
“No, that is all. We won’t be here long.. I will excuse us as quickly as possible…” She can’t finish her words when a delighted shout could be heard from Martha’s house.
“Daddy! Daddy!” Oliver’s cute little voice rang from the doorway.
Helen’s gaze suddenly changed, and she became speechless. She hadn’t expected her son to sense Vincent’s arrival so quickly.
“Hi, Buddy.” Vincent’s entire face softened when he saw Oliver. He stepped past Helen, bent down, and swept his son into his arms with ease. “How are you? Did you behave with Mommy while I was away?”
Oliver’s laugh rang out. It sounds adorable.
“Yay, I’m so happy Daddy’s back! Of course, I behaved. I always help Mommy. Don’t worry, Dad… I was guarding Mommy for you.” He said proudly.
Helen felt her knees wobble as she listened to Oliver’s words. She worried he would expose her again about her longing for Vincent.
Vincent laughed, hearing his son’s words spill out of him, genuine and unrestrained.
