Page 1 of The Big Scoop

1

Harrison

Needing something…

Really needing something…

I hadn’t felt that in a long time. Being a billionaire meant you never had to want for anything. Cars, clothes, homes, girls—whatever you wanted, you could have it with the click of a button or the swipe of a card.

Hell, even if you wanted friends, you could have them too. They might be fake and only after you for your money, opportunity, or just to say they knew you, but you could have them just the same.

And girls? Forget about it.

Once I hit my first million, the girls were everywhere. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d done poorly with the ladies before then, but after that…it was just a whole new world—only without magic carpets and a princess who actually loved me.

No, those girls wanted the same things my fake friends wanted: money, fame, headlines, or just modern day clout from tagging me on their Instagram. I see plenty of guys fall for that kind of act, but not me.

Sure, I had my fun—who wouldn’t? But I kept my heart shielded and never let anyone get too close to me. I grew up an orphan, bouncing through foster homes every couple of years, so I was used to being alone. I didn’t need anybody…

…until I saw her…

I’d come into town on my jet and landed on a private landing strip I’d had built ahead of time. Derby, New Hampshire wasn’t exactly New York City, and having a spot to land close to my new house was a lot easier than flying into Manchester and taking a car.

I figured there would be some press outside—after all, the house I’d built was bigger than anything the locals in town had ever seen, and I’d heard from Audrey, my assistant, that people had been driving by for weeks.

But when we got to the front gate, there was an absolute horde of people with cameras and cell phones, all waiting to get an interview with me, Harrison Night, the new (and only) billionaire businessman in town.

“I’ll just drive through them,” Audrey said from the wheel of the Lamborghini. I’d told her to pick me up in a less conspicuous car, but for some reason she’d showed up in the lime green supercar. I think it was because it was the only one of my cars she hadn’t driven yet.

“Don’t run them over,” I joked as she thumbed a button on the dash that opened the massive gates that looked like something you’d expect at Buckingham Palace or Versailles.

“I wish I could.”

“Ah, come on,” I chuckled. “They’re just grinding away like the rest of us.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing, Harrison?” Audrey replied. “Grinding? What are you, a rapper?”

“Hey, I’m working hard,” I told her. “You see me lying on a yacht on the Amalfi Coast somewhere with a bunch of Instagram ‘Influencers’? Or am I getting shit done?”

“I wish you’d get a yacht and park it off the Amalfi Coast,” Audrey laughed. “And take me with you.”

Audrey started to pull through the gates but I saw something and cried out, “Wait!”

“What!?” she jumped. “What is it?”

“Who’s that?” I asked, pointing out the window to where the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen was standing.

She was tall, coltish with blonde hair that looked like something out of Old Hollywood. She had bright red lipstick on, but she was dressed like a woman who wanted to be taken seriously, and unlike the rest of the reporters around her, she wasn’t carrying a smartphone or a recorder; she had a simple pad of paper and a pen.

Holy shit…

“What, I’m supposed to know all the local media?” Audrey asked. “She’s probably with one of the small papers.”

“Pull up to her,” I said as I rolled my window down.

I felt like I’d been hit with an injection of some kind of drug that was making me feel something I’d never felt before. My eyes were locked on her, and not only were my pants tightening around my crotch, but there was a funny feeling in my chest too.

“Finally get your eye on a girl, boss?” Audrey asked as she slowed to a stop beside her and I rolled my window down.

“What’s your name?” I asked, entranced by her eyes—blue like the morning sky.

“Gwen,” she replied firmly. “Gwen Thompson.”

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