The Billionaire's Smile Book 2: His Desire

I remained silent, understanding that this was difficult for him.

“My grandmother, Olivia,” he started, his voice softening slightly at her name, “was the heart of this family. She had three sons—Giorgian, Marco, and Lucca.”

I nodded, paying close attention.

“Giorgian is my father,” Elliot went on, his tone growing colder.

“And my mother’s name is Elizabeth. They’re…distant. Cold. Don’t take it personally—that’s just how they are.”

I frowned a little.

“But they’re your parents.”

“Biologically, yes,” he said, his lips forming a thin line.

“But they never really wanted me. My grandmother raised me for most of my life. Giorgian and Elizabeth are all about appearances, and that’s all you need to know about them.”

I gently squeezed his arm, silently encouraging him to continue.

“Then there’s Marco,” Elliot said, irritation creeping into his voice.

“He’s the playboy who squanders the family’s money like it’s nothing. Talks a lot, does very little, and generally makes everything worse. He has a daughter, Kristen, but she’s not close to the family. She only shows up when she thinks there’s something in it for her.”

“Will she be here?” I asked.

Elliot gave a noncommittal shrug.

“Possibly. If she smells money, she’ll be there.”

“What about Lucca?”

“Clara’s husband,” Elliot clarified, his voice devoid of emotion.

“He’s…practically a ghost. Doesn’t say much, doesn’t contribute. Clara married him for his wealth, and he’s content to let her run the show. You’ll see.”

“Clara,” I echoed, her name already sounding like a recipe for disaster.

“She’s a piece of work,” Elliot stated, not mincing his words.

“She’s a pain, manipulative, and she’ll likely try to get under your skin. Don’t let her.”

I swallowed hard, a knot of apprehension forming in my stomach.

“But then there’s Paul,” Elliot’s face softened with a genuine smile.

“Paul’s different. He’s Clara’s and Lucca’s son, but he’s nothing like them. He’s kind, considerate. He was raised by Olivia too, so he’s the only one in that house I trust.”

Elliot shifted in his seat, turning to face me fully.

“Listen, Helena, this isn’t going to be a walk in the park. They’re…challenging. Toxic, even. But you’re not alone in this.”

“I’ll manage,” I assured him, offering a small smile.

He reached for my hand, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles.

“Good luck in there,” he murmured.

I nodded, determined not to let his words unnerve me.

“Good luck to us both,” I responded, and with that, Hans pulled up to the grand entrance, and Elliot stepped out first, extending his hand to me.

His grip was firm, almost protective, as he helped me out of the car, and into the lion’s den.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes searching my face for any hint of hesitation.

I nodded, even though my heart felt like it was about to burst out of my chest.

The grand foyer was imposing, its high ceilings echoing every sound.

My heels tapped softly against the marble floor as I followed Elliot’s lead, trying to take in my surroundings without looking overwhelmed.

But what really took my breath away wasn’t the mansion itself—it was the people.

The double doors swung open before we even reached them, revealing a tall, slender woman with impeccable makeup and a frosty demeanor.

Her tailored dress and elegant pearls screamed “high society,” but her eyes barely concealed her contempt.

She was likely Elliot’s mother, her piercing gaze unwavering.

She was breathtaking, with high cheekbones and an aura of authority that commanded attention. And it wasn’t hard to see where Elliot had gotten his striking looks—her refined jawline, the icy blue of her eyes. But unlike Elliot’s warm intensity, hers was cold and calculating.

“Mother,” Elliot greeted, his voice terse.

“Elliot,” she responded with a barely-there smile.

Her gaze flicked to me, lingering just a moment too long.

“And this must be… Helena, correct?”

“Yes,” I replied, mustering my most courteous tone.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Vince.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” she responded coolly, stepping aside to let us in.

She raised an eyebrow at my formal address, then turned her attention back to Elliot, scrutinizing him like an unfinished puzzle.

Beside her stood Giorgian, Elliot’s father.

His posture was stiff, his expression inscrutable, but the family resemblance was undeniable. The same broad shoulders, the same straight nose, the same hair color.

He acknowledged me with a curt nod.

“Elliot,” Giorgian greeted in a low voice, his eyes briefly meeting mine before returning to his son.

“It’s been some time.”

“Father,” Elliot responded, equally composed.

Next to him was a man who seemed to be his polar opposite.

With a loosened tie and a drink in hand, he greeted us with a grin as if we were old friends.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

“Marco,” Elliot acknowledged.

Marco clapped Elliot on the shoulder with a laugh that felt out of place in the tense atmosphere.

“Ah, our star businessman,” Marco exclaimed, his voice overly cheerful.

“And he’s brought a guest! You must be Helena.”

I nodded, offering a polite smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He smirked, leaning in slightly as if to share a secret.

“Don’t be fooled by all the grandeur. This house is big, but the egos inside it are even bigger.”

“Marco,” Elizabeth interjected, her voice sharp enough to slice through steel.

“Enough.”

Marco simply shrugged and stepped back, giving me a wink before taking a long sip from his drink.

We ventured further into the room, and I caught sight of the woman Elliot had mentioned—Clara. She was making her way down the staircase, her hair flawlessly styled and her expression frosty. It was a stark contrast to the warm grin on the face of the young man trailing behind her.

“Hello, Aunt Clara,” Elliot’s greeting was as cold as her demeanor.

“And you must be Helena.” Her smile was insincere, her eyes scanning me from head to toe. “How delightful. Elliot always did have a thing for beauty.”

“I’m pleased to meet you,” I replied, maintaining a steady tone.

She cocked her head, her smile thin and predatory. “I suppose it’s nice that Elliot has…company these days.”

Before I could formulate a response, the man behind her stepped forward. His easy smile cut through the tension.

“Hi, Helena. I’m Paul. Welcome to the madness.”

Paul had dark hair and eyes and no resemblance to the others. His kindness felt like a lifeline in the midst of the tension, and I returned his smile gratefully.

“It’s good to meet you too, Paul.”

Lucca, Clara’s husband, materialized behind her. His presence was so understated it was almost easy to overlook him. He gave a polite nod, his eyes darting to Clara for approval before he spoke.

“Welcome.”

It was evident who wore the pants in their relationship.

As we exchanged brief pleasantries, I couldn’t help but notice the lingering gazes of each family member. They were polite, but their surprise was palpable—Elliot wasn’t known for bringing anyone into this world, and they all seemed aware of it.

Clara was the one to shatter the delicate balance of civility.

“Oh, Elliot,” she cooed, her voice oozing sarcasm as her piercing eyes darted between us. “I see you really do have a type. This one looks exactly like your ex-fiancée.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine, and I could feel my blood start to simmer.

Ex-fiancée?

The room fell into a deafening silence, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

I felt Elliot’s grip on my hand tighten, his body tensing beside me. My stomach plummeted as the words echoed in the room, and all I could do was look at him, searching his face for a reaction.

His jaw was set, his eyes darkening with a storm I hadn’t seen in a while. He turned to his aunt, his voice low and controlled.

“Clara,” he warned, his tone laced with caution. “Don’t.”

But the damage had already been inflicted.