Page 21 of The Big Scoop

Gwen

I took a week off work. It wasn’t like me, and Jeff definitely tried to pry and get the scoop on what I was going to be up to, but I lied and told him I was heading back to San Diego to visit my parents, as I hadn’t seen them in about a year.

That wasn’t true, though. What I was really doing was lying on a yacht off the Amalfi coast, bathing in Italian sun, eating gourmet meals and getting my brains fucked out by my new billionaire boyfriend.

“Let’s get out of here,” Harrison had told me. “Audrey says I need a vacation, so let’s take one.”

“He does,” Audrey nodded, a cellphone on her ear and a laptop at her fingers. I was a bit hesitant at first, as I’d never taken time off before, but it didn’t take much convincing for Harrison to get me on his private jet and out of New Hampshire.

“Don’t worry,” he’d told me. “The world won’t collapse if Gwen Thompson goes away for a week.”

And here I was, lying topless on a yacht that would have made Puff Daddy jealous, staring up at the blue sky, dotted with puffy white clouds, sipping a mimosa while Harrison read some kind of financial magazine on a deck chair beside me.

“Do you want to go to shore later?” I asked him. “Get some dinner at a local place?”

“Whatever you want, princess,” he replied.

“Let’s do it,” I smiled. We’d been having Pierre, a private chef, cook every one of our meals for us, and although it was the best food I’d had in my life, I wanted to get out and see some of the sights.

“Sure. I’ll tell Pierre to skip dinner then.”

“I should get up and e-mail Jeff,” I replied. “Tell him we’ll be coming back tomorrow…but I really don’t want to. I’m so comfortable here.”

“I think you should stay there.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked, tilting my head back to look at him. He was wearing white linen pants and a striped blue button up with a leather belt that cost more than my Camry. He looked like a fashion model.

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re my view,” he smiled.

I melted.

“What about that view?” I asked, pointing to the coast, which was lined with gorgeous white Italian buildings and terracotta roofs.

“Not half as good,” he replied.

“Aw, you sweet-talker,” I laughed as I got to my knees and turned around to face him. He didn’t even hide the fact that he was looking at my tits, and I didn’t even pretend to be offended.

I stood up and pranced by him, letting my fingers slide across his shoulder as I did. He pinched my butt as I passed, and I glanced back at him, knowing it wouldn’t be long before we were rolling around in bed together again.

The inside of the yacht was like a five-star hotel. There was gorgeous wood everywhere, teak if I remembered right, and even the chairs probably cost more than my entire apartment building back in New Hampshire.

I made my way down the hall to the office—yes, Harrison’s boat has an office—and over to his laptop. I opened a browser and logged into my Gmail and started to write a letter to Jeff. Just as I was about to click send, a popup appeared in the middle of the screen and I clicked it instead.

“Oops,” I said as Harrison’s e-mail program popped up. I moved the cursor to minimize it, but something caught my eye and it stopped. An e-mail from Audrey:

Macadam Pines deal done. Thank God!

My heart skipped a beat.

What!?

I knew better than to snoop, and I certainly wasn’t one, but the e-mail was already open.

The Pines!?

Harrison had sworn to me that he wasn’t involved in the pines or anything to do with Tony Russell, and if that was true, why was Audrey e-mailing him about them and some sort of deal?

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