Filed to story: Accidentally Slept With The Young Mafia Boss (Vincent & Helen) Book PDF Free
“Do not worry, Helen…” Vincent added quickly, his tone softer. “Your face is blurred. The shot was taken at a red light. They are only assuming I have a secret lover here in Willowcrest.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he imagined the frenzy if the world discovered the truth. They would not just find out about a lover, but a wife and a son.
Helen, however, was far from smiling. Anxiety wrapped tightly around her chest. Her peaceful life, the small world she had built with Oliver in this quiet town, felt like it was slipping away.
If reporters traced the rumor back to her cafe, it would be over. Paparazzi would swarm. Customers would run. Her home, her safe place, would be exposed.
She drew a shaky breath and exhaled slowly. Anger stirred in her, the urge to remind Vincent that this was precisely why she had warned him not to visit her cafe.
But the words died on her tongue.
Even if she could remind him about it, it was of no use because now it was too late. What she feared had already arrived.
“So what are you going to do?” Helen asked quietly. Her voice was steady, but her heart was racing. She knew her life was tied to his decisions.
Vincent’s eyes stayed locked on hers.
“I will ignore it, like I always do. If I respond, they will only believe it more strongly. Silence will kill the rumor faster than any denial.”
Helen gave a slight nod. She knew he was right. Gossip thrived on attention and overreaction, and Vincent Moretti’s attention was valuable to the media, let alone overreaction. The only way to beat it was to ignore it.
“Still,” Vincent said, “I’ll be heading back to the capital tomorrow morning. I’ll stay there until things settle down. Then I’ll come back.”
Her pale face slowly regained color, though she did not notice. Vincent did, and it made him feel strangely relieved.
“I promise,” he said, his voice lower, “I will keep it private. No one will see me in town. If I stay here, it will only be inside this building. What do you think?”
“That sounds like a good idea,” Helen replied, her tone cautious. “So I can still go about my daily routine?”
“Of course,” Vincent said with certainty. “You can keep running the cafe, walk with Oliver, do whatever you want.”
The relief in her chest spread, loosening the tightness in her shoulders.
“But,” Vincent added, his tone shifting again, “there is one change. You can no longer drive your car. I believe they captured the license plate. I will arrange another vehicle for you.”
Helen offered him a faint smile and shook her head. “No need. I do not really need a car. Walking is better for me and Oliver.”
Vincent stared at her for a moment before finally nodding. “Alright. But Liam will follow you everywhere.”
Her smile faded.
“No. Don’t. Any journalist or paparazzi that have been following you all these years would surely recognize him. He is always by your side. If people see him with me even one time, it will confirm everything.”
Vincent froze, then exhaled slowly, realizing she was right. He let out a short laugh that sounded more like disbelief. “You never make things easy.”
Helen lifted her chin slightly, her eyes holding a quiet strength. “I only make them realistic.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. His sharp gaze softened as he stared at her. Finally, he nodded. “Fine. No, Liam.”
But deep inside, Vincent was already adjusting his plan. He would not let her walk unprotected.
If Liam could not follow her, he would assign someone else, no one could connect to Vincent Moretti, but he trusts him, her, or them just like he trusts Liam. A reliable shadow in the background, invisible but always present.
Because no matter what Helen thought, he would not risk her safety or Oliver’s.
“Thank you, Vincent…” Helen stood from the sofa. “Alright, I need to finish packing now.”
“Do you need my help?” he asked, trailing behind her into the bedroom.
She paused, turning to glance at him.
“I’m done. I just need to check once more.”
…
A short while later, with a few large suitcases in hand, they stepped into the elevator heading to the fifth floor.
“Did you leave Oliver alone in the house?” Helen asked.
“No need to worry. This entire building is ours. My people live here. No one will harm him,” Vincent replied.
“Still, you can’t leave him alone. He’s only three. He doesn’t even have a phone to call us if something happens.”
Vincent nodded and glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze to the elevator door.
“Well, you’re right. That’s why I asked Liam to stay with him.”
Helen blinked at him. She was speechless.
“Geez, couldn’t you say that from the start? You almost gave me a heart attack!”
Ding!
The elevator opens.
Vincent smiled, quickening his pace to pull her suitcase ahead. Just as he reached for the door, a phone started ringing in his trouser pocket.
Helen frowned.
“Vincent… why do you have my phone?”
“Vincent… why do you have my phone?”
Helen’s voice sharpened with suspicion as the familiar ringtone chimed from Vincent’s pocket.
Vincent pulled out the slim device and glanced at the glowing screen. When his eyes landed on the name flashing there, he raised a brow and turned toward her, his expression unreadable.
“This person has been calling you nonstop,” he explained, his tone calm. “I planned to bring it to you on the fourth floor, but Oliver answered first. Once he picked up, I had no choice but to speak with this man.”
Helen’s pulse raced.
Her face stiffened as nervousness slowly swallowed her. Very few people knew her number. And her mind now fills with Oscar. Only he, her male friend, is in her phone book.
“You can answer his call. I will finish carrying these inside.” Vincent’s voice was composed as he lifted the heavy suitcases with effortless strength and entered the apartment.
Helen remained frozen, her gaze glued to the name on the screen: Oscar with a love icon.
Her stomach twisted at the thought of the two men exchanging words.
The door clicked shut.
The call finally ended.
Helen exhaled long and hard, trying to steady her heartbeat. She couldn’t leave it hanging.
Walking to the end of the corridor, she stood by the glass wall as she pressed Oscar’s number and held the phone close.
It only rang twice before the line connected.
“Elle? Oliver?” Oscar’s worried voice rang from the other end.
“It’s me,” she answered cautiously.
“What the hell?! Where have you been, Elle?” His words spilled like machine-gun fire, barely room for breath. “I’ve been going insane. I called a hundred times, and when Oliver picked up, suddenly it wasn’t him, it was him, Vincent Moretti! Oh my God, Elle, do you know what nearly happened? I thought I was about to die of a heart attack. Do you understand what it feels like when ‘Vincent Moretti’ warns you personally? He could send someone to slit my throat any minute! And by the way, why didn’t you tell me you married him?”
Helen pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a strained laugh.
“Oscar, please. Calm down. You’ll die from your bad habit of being overtly stressed long before Vincent will think of sending anyone to your doorstep to slit your throat.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then, a dramatic groan. “Damn it. You’re right.” He sucked in a noisy breath before launching again. “But seriously, why didn’t you tell me? You married him! When? How? And oh God, does he know about Oliver? Did he actually look after you?”
Helen laughed again, but this time the sound carried a bitter edge.
“Oscar, I cannot explain if you do not give me room to speak.”
“Right, right. Sorry! Go ahead. Talk. Talk now…”
His voice softened, though his nervous breathing still carried over the line.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Speak, woman! Ugh, talk now…”
“Fine. It happened more than a week ago. He found me, and at that time, Oliver had injured his leg.”
“What? Injured? Elle, are you kidding me? And you didn’t tell me about it when it happened? Are you seriously my best friend? You said I’m Oliver’s Godfather. But why-“
“I swear I’ll hang up if you keep interrupting.”
“Sorry! Sorry. Alright, go on.”
Helen blew out another sigh.
