The Billionaire's Smile

My fourth week at the upscale dental clinic I had joined was wrapping up, and although I felt lucky to be working at such an elite group practice right out of school—thanks to my father’s connections—I wasn’t hopeful about gaining a wide range of practical experience here.

This clinic catered to the cream of society, which meant I spent most of my time performing whitening procedures, smile makeovers, and veneer placements. The work was still rewarding, but it was taking longer than I had expected to acclimate to the clientele.

The condescending remarks from my last patient echoed in my mind as I made the final checks of my exam-room-slash-office. I went to switch off the lights when the door burst open.

In strode a man whose ridiculously good-looking face was a regular feature on magazine covers and newspapers: Elliot Vince, the country’s wealthiest businessman and a big shot in the tech and oil industries.

Known for his icy demeanor in business and life—a man who famously never smiled—Elliot Vince commanded attention with more than just his billionaire status and business acumen. His imposing physical presence was equally striking.

His towering frame and muscular build seemed to pull all the oxygen from the room, leaving little for me to breathe.

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Duppont,” the receptionist squeaked out from behind him, “but Mr. Vince just—”

“I’ve got a chipped tooth, and it needs to be fixed. Have I come to the right person?” he said in a deep voice, his tone conveying irritation and impatience.

But my mind was still processing, so as he spoke, I could only move my eyes to his full lips, to his chiseled, square jaw, back up to his strong, thin nose, and finally to his thick eyebrows and dark-blond hair.

When Elliot’s striking blue eyes locked onto mine, however, my brain short-circuited entirely, and I needed a few blinks to reboot.

After I did, I glanced at the receptionist, nodded to her that it was okay, and then said to Elliot, “Absolutely, Mr. Vince.” I plastered on my practiced smile and extended a hand toward the exam chair. “Please sit.”

Before the receptionist closed the door, she wiggled her eyebrows at me and did a little dance, and I couldn’t help but feel excited to be so close to someone so powerful.

Unfortunately, my overthinking brain kicked in fully just then, reminding me that I couldn’t make any mistakes. If I messed up Elliot Vince’s teeth, my career in this city would be over.

Elliot removed the jacket of his navy-blue suit before sitting in the chair, which seemed almost too small for his large frame.

As he settled into it, the tailored fabric of his shirt stretched tightly around his biceps and chest. When he leaned back, the chair’s padding released a gush of air under his weight, sending his intoxicating scent into my nose.

He smelled just as I had imagined he would when I had seen him in photos—exquisite.

I didn’t know what exactly to say, so I kept silent as I put my bag and coat away and got the room ready for him. The air grew thick as I moved about, and when I dared a peek at him, I saw that he was watching me.

Intently.

Like a predator watching his prey.

My hands shook when I set my tray of tools on the rolling table beside him, and he spotted the tremor. My cheeks instantly blazed, but his expression didn’t change as he stared. His face was unreadable, giving me clear insight into why he was so good at business.

“I’m Dr. Helena Duppont, Mr. Vince,” I said, sitting straighter in an attempt to gain some authority. “Please show me this chipped tooth.”

Elliot’s gaze never left me as he bared his teeth, but I wrote it off as him sizing me up. I wasn’t his regular dentist, after all, and he had an image to uphold. I would want the best too if I were him.

Instead, he got me.

This clinic just so happened to be in the same skyscraper as his company, and I just so happened to be the only practitioner still here at such a time on a Friday evening.

Until a month ago, I had had no time or interest in cultivating a social life. My last eight years had been solely focused on school and dentistry—and my ex-fiancé, James Cornick.

“Can you fix it?” Elliot asked, bringing me back to his pearly whites.

“Yes, absolutely. A restoration won’t take long,” I said.

I flashed him a smile, but he didn’t return it. His expression remained a mask of calm, with his blue orbs locked onto mine. Suddenly concerned that I had something on my face, I checked my reflection in the mirror as I went to get my PPE, but everything looked normal.

My blonde hair was still in a bun, with no strays. My mascara wasn’t running, and my baby blues still popped. My lipstick wasn’t smeared; in fact, my heart-shaped lips were still well lined, their Cupid’s bow pronounced.

With a silent sigh, I put on a cap, mask, and glasses. “All right,” I said, sitting on the stool and pulling on gloves. “Let’s get started.”

The procedure took just under an hour to complete, but it was the most unnerving fifty-five minutes of my career. Not only did he shut down my attempts at small talk with single-word answers, which made me give up talking altogether, but I was also petrified to make a mistake.

To make matters worse, his inability to look anywhere but straight at me made me feel like I was doing something wrong—he had me second-guessing my every decision.

But the results spoke for themselves.

Elliot sat up as soon as I finished and snatched the mirror out of my hand. Luckily, he missed the tremor because he was staring—seemingly pleased—at his reflection. I held my breath as I awaited his judgment, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

After an eternity, he looked at me, nodded, and stood up, saying, “Well done, Doctor.”

I took back the mirror as I removed my PPE. “I’m glad you’re satisfied. Thank you for—”

“I apologize for keeping you so late on a Friday, Doctor.” He glanced at his watch.

“Oh, it’s no pro—”

“I insist on showing you my gratitude.” He put on his jacket.

“Really, that’s not ne—”

“My driver will take you home. It’s no trouble.” He opened the door to leave and turned back in the doorway. “We’ll be waiting for you outside the building’s main entrance.” And before I could protest, he left, leaving me frazzled and gaping, open-mouthed, at the closed door.

Elliot Vince wants to give me a ride home? The thought should have made me want to squeal, but all I could think about was what James would think if he found out.

Would he be jealous? Would he realize what he had so easily thrown away and come crawling back? Would he love me again the way I still loved him?

I knew I shouldn’t have been thinking this way, but I had grown so used to prioritizing his feelings, wants, and needs that it was hard to break the habit. But lately, with no one else to consider, I had begun to suspect I didn’t really know my own feelings, wants, and needs.

Not bothering to clean up my room, I grabbed my bag and coat, turned everything off, and rushed down to the main entrance of the building, where a sleek black SUV was waiting.

Elliot, standing beside a man in a black suit, turned to face me after I exited. “Ah, great, here you are.” He gestured with his hand toward the man next to him. “Dr. Duppont, this is my driver, Hans. Hans, Dr. Duppont.”

“Fine work you did, Doctor.” Hans extended a hand, and I shook it.

Elliot went to stand beside the car’s back door. “Just tell Hans where to take you, and we’ll be off.”

I stepped up to Elliot. “Really, you don’t need to—”

“Excuse me, sir, but I’m afraid there’s no time for that.” Hans opened the door but raised his hand. “You have that restaurant opening tonight, remember? I’m afraid it can’t be missed.”

Hans gave Elliot a look, one I couldn’t decipher. Elliot then cocked his head and furrowed his brow. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Elliot said, “So be it.”

Now that I was released from the obligation of letting him give me a ride home, I exhaled and relaxed my posture. I was about to thank him for his offer anyway, but Elliot continued speaking.

“Dr. Duppont, I hope you’re hungry.”

After a deafeningly silent ride, we pulled up to the restaurant, a super fancy one, and I glanced down at my clothes. “I’m not really dressed appropriately,” I said, adjusting my blouse and trying to smooth out my tailored pants.

“You’re dressed fine, Dr. Duppont,” Elliot said without even gazing at me.

“Helena,” I said, clearing my throat. “Call me Helena.”

He cast a penetrating look at me, one I imagined millions of women would love to receive, and nodded. His eyes then shifted to the door behind me as Hans opened it.

I stepped onto the sidewalk, and Elliot joined me, offering me his arm. I didn’t intend to take it, but when he subtly nodded to his right, I saw that paparazzi were lining up at the entrance of the restaurant.

Knowing he had appearances to keep up, I hooked my hand around the crook of his elbow and let him lead me inside. My fingers rubbed over his firm biceps through his suit, and I wondered how many women would kill to switch places with me right now.

But just as we stepped through the threshold into the posh dining space, I locked eyes with the only woman I would do anything to switch places with: Elizabeth Hart, the brunette swimsuit model James had begun dating the day after he ended our relationship.

Her bony arm squeezed James’s to get his attention, and when he turned his head, he looked right at me, then at Elliot. To my utter joy, his face dropped when he recognized Elliot, and hope sparked within me that there might still be a chance for us.

In an instant, James was pulling Elizabeth in our direction, and panic began to twist my stomach. I turned toward Elliot, drawing his attention, but before I could excuse myself, James called out my name.

“It’s so great to see you here!” James flashed Elliot and me his million-dollar smile, and I swooned against Elliot’s arm. “I don’t think you’ve met Elizabeth,” James said to me, moving to release her right arm so we could shake hands, but my mouth suddenly overruled my brain.

“And I don’t think you’ve met Elliot Vince,” I said, squeezing Elliot’s arm and placing my free hand on his chest. “My boyfriend.”