Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
Her mind scrambled, trying to make her avoid feeling big-headed and remain rational.
‘Maybe he missed Oliver. Men are known to always love their sons. Or, maybe he missed my cooking because he was bored with that haute cuisine. Or he could be missing feeling at home because now I conveniently take care of his house, and not just his butler and maids. That is it. That is all it could be.’
But her body betrayed her. Every time those three words replayed in her mind, her heart jumped higher and higher.
‘Of course I did.’
They were not words she had expected. They were not words she had prepared for. And worst of all, they were words she wanted to believe.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and Helen stepped out first, her heels clicking lightly against the polished floor of the fifth level.
Her heart beat faster than usual as she reached for Oliver’s hand. His chubby small fingers curled around hers, warm and eager, as they made their way down the hallway toward the apartment.
She halted for a second, uncertain, glancing at her son as if silently asking him which door was theirs.
Before she could speak, Vincent, following just behind, lifted a hand and pointed calmly toward her apartment door.
Of course, he knew. He’s the one who renovated this entire floor.
Helen kept moving, but her grip on Oliver’s hand tightened. She glanced down to check his face, and her chest softened when she saw his eyes shining with pure excitement.
That sparkle in her little boy’s gaze was enough to melt away all of her nerves for just a heartbeat.
Behind them, Vincent’s steps were steady. He said nothing, but she could feel his gaze resting on her as Oliver skipped ahead to the door.
Her son tiptoed to reach the digital lock, struggling but determined. He punched in the code with exaggerated concentration. The lock buzzed in rejection.
“Whoa,” Oliver groaned, puffing out his cheeks. He turned and looked at Vincent. “Dad, did you change the password? What’s the new password?”
Helen was about to try it when Vincent answered, calm as ever, “Your mommy’s birthday. You know that, right?”
Helen nearly stumbled in her heels. ‘What? Why does he use my birthday?’
Oliver’s face lit up as if he had just solved a grand mystery.
“Yes, Dad, I know that!”
Oliver entered the numbers with confidence this time, and the lock clicked open.
“See? Easy!” Oliver grinned, then turned to Helen, “Hurry, Mom, let’s check out our new house.”
He grabbed her hand and tugged her inside.
Helen forced a smile, squeezing his tiny fingers back. Her heart was still caught on Vincent’s casual answer.
Vincent followed them into the apartment, his tall frame filling the doorway as Oliver and Helen darted into the living space.
“Mommy,” Oliver looked up to meet Helen’s eyes. “We will sleep with Daddy in this house, right?”
Helen froze. Her first instinct was to laugh nervously and tell him not to assume such things.
The words perched on the tip of her tongue: “Darling, you should ask your daddy, not me. What if he flies back to the capital for an important meeting?”
But what actually came out of her mouth betrayed her.
“Yes, sweetheart. Dad will stay because tonight is our special day.”
As soon as the words left her lips, Helen wanted the heavens to open and swallow her whole.
‘Dear Lord, why would I say that? Strike me with lightning right now. Please!’
She risked a glance over her shoulder, terrified she would catch Vincent smirking triumphantly. To her immense relief, or perhaps greater danger…his expression remained unreadable.
Quickly, she picked up her pace and stepped deeper into the apartment, eager to change the subject and distract herself.
The newly renovated space greeted her like something out of a celebrity’s Cribs TV show.
The faint scent of fresh paint and polished wood drifted through the air.
She was impressed.
The apartment had been completely transformed.
The once-cozy space now glowed with modern elegance: an open-concept living room that flowed into a dining area and a kitchen sleek enough to belong in a chef’s dream.
Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in natural light, framing the sea outside like a giant flat-screen showing the most beautiful view imaginable.
Soft beige walls added warmth to the bright expanse, and the brand-new furniture gleamed with rich wood finishes.
She found herself admiring everything: the huge L sofa with more than ten seats, the polished dining table, even the stainless-steel appliances that still had a faint new-metal shine.
‘My goodness, Vincent Moretti! How did you manage this in a week? While running your empire?’
“Wow!” Oliver shouted, spinning in a circle. “It looks like a palace! This place is huge, Mom… Dad!”
He dashed from the sofa to the kitchen, then back to the dining area, his laughter enough to warm the house.
Helen’s chest swelled at his laughter. She loved seeing him so happy.
But when her eyes flicked toward the master bedroom door, a cold, nervous shiver slid down her spine.
That room.
Her throat went dry. That bed. That reality.
“Do you like it?” Vincent’s voice came close from just behind her. Too close for her to smell his signature fragrance.
She glanced at him quickly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“It’s beautiful,” she admitted softly. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, Vincent. We’ll only stay here for a few months.”
His eyes lingered on her.
“No trouble at all. This is an investment. And you can also stay here whenever you visit Aunt Martha during our summer holidays.”
“Oh. You’re right.” She smiled faintly, then turned away, trying to put Oliver’s small backpack on the sofa to keep her busy.
“Daddy, Daddy!” Oliver came running back, tugging at Vincent’s hand. “Can we see the bedroom now?”
Vincent exchanged a look with Helen, then nodded to his son. “Let’s go.”
“Which one do you want to see first?” he asked. “Your room or Mommy and Daddy’s room?”
Oliver beamed. “You and Mommy’s room!”
Helen nearly tripped over her own feet again. ‘Why, child, why?’
Together they walked toward the master bedroom.
Vincent opened the door, and Helen’s heart slammed against her ribs.
The room was spacious, glowing with soft light from the window. A bed dominated the space; the sheets looked crisp and white.
Oliver squealed, scrambled onto the mattress, and began bouncing happily.
“This is so soft! Mommy, Daddy, come here! Sleep with me here!”
Helen stood frozen, her pulse hammering. She darted a glance at Vincent, who had casually removed his suit and draped it over a chair.
Then he sat down on the bed with his usual calm grace, his body sinking into the mattress.
Even that slight movement sent a wave of heat rushing through her.
‘Heaven, why does my hubby look so hot?’ Hurriedly, she corrected her thought. ‘No. No. I mean, he looks so handsome?’
Helen was pulled from her sultry thoughts when she heard Vincent say, “Go ahead, I will catch you…”
Oliver laughed and rolled away from his father, who caught him easily and started tickling his sides. Their son laughed with delight, his laughter bubbling over like pure joy.
Finally, Helen’s feet moved.
She crossed the room, sat gently on the opposite side of the bed, and felt Oliver immediately curl into her side with a wide grin.
“See, Mommy? Isn’t it comfy?” Oliver beamed at her, then closed his eyes dramatically as if pretending to drift to sleep.
Moments later, Vincent lay on his back, his presence making the bed feel unexpectedly smaller.
As Helen looked at his position, her nerves started to flare up again, just like the last time she recalled. That morning, when she woke up, he was lying beside her.
Her thoughts swirled wildly.
‘How can I sleep beside him without doing anything normal? Can I hold myself back when he’s so hot to handle? My goodness, Elle, Calm down, Calm!’
“Mommy, try it. Come lie down here with daddy…” Oliver urged, patting the sheets with his tiny hand. “It feels soft.”
