Beneath the Billionaire’s Skyline

CHAPTER TWO

The newsroom smelled like burnt coffee and dusty papers. Phones were ringing and keyboards were clattering, and somewhere in the corner, a heated debate about a headline was ongoing. Harper Quinn maneuvered through the chaos toward her desk. She still couldn’t shake the thoughts of Ethan Blackwell. What was it about this man? she wondered.

She got scornful looks as she passed the hallway. Harper had risen fast in her career, and it made her the most sought-after journalist—and also the most disliked one.

“You lasted twelve minutes?” a voice teased across the room.

Harper looked up to see Maya, her best friend and office ally, leaning against Harper’s cubicle wall. Harper knew that look on her face. “Impressive. He usually throws people out in five.”

Harper tilted her head. “I wasn’t thrown out. He… ended the meeting.”

Maya scoffed. “Way to put it, Harper. He kicked you to the curb. Don’t sugarcoat it. I’ve seen the Ice King in action.”

Harper tried to argue, but before she could, a sharp voice cut through the noise in the newsroom.

“Quinn! My office.”

She jerked in fear. Simon Blake, her editor, was standing in the glass-walled office at the far end with his tie slightly skewed, holding his trademark mug that read: Don’t talk to me, I’m editing. Anyone who had ever seen that mug knew the man was serious. Harper swallowed and made her way over.

Simon didn’t bother exchanging pleasantries. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Harper asked, knowing full well what Simon was talking about.

“That,” he said, pointing toward the tablet on his desk where a news clip of Ethan Blackwell exiting a building played in fast-forward. “You had twelve minutes with the most elusive billionaire in New York, and you gave me… nothing.”

Harper paused, looking for the answer that wouldn’t piss off Simon further. “I was warming him up, building rapport.”

Simon gave a sarcastic laugh. “Rapport? You called him a job killer. You could have asked about his AI launch, his philanthropic initiatives, anything—”

“He is a job killer—” Harper responded.

Simon cut her off. “He’s also the only reason this paper gets clicks right now. And you, Miss Quinn, had the opportunity to get inside his world, and you gave me…empty air. If you want to stay here, you need to bring me a story that makes people stop scrolling. Blackwell’s personal life is a black hole. If you get anything — a past scandal, a secret, a mistress — you own this beat.”

Harper clenched her fists under her desk. The man was infuriating, but also right. How could she tell him all she had was a feeling in her gut that there was more to Mr. Blackwell? That certainly wouldn’t be enough for Simon.

“I don’t chase billionaires for gossip,” she said, speaking as firmly as she could.

Simon leaned back in his chair. “You’re not chasing gossip, Harper. You’re chasing a story. And this is a billionaire who has the city in the palm of his hand. Do you want a career?” “Of course, I do,” Harper replied. “Then you better chase him. Or you start looking for another desk.”

Harper left his office, fuming as she walked out. “Between him and Mr. Blackwell, I don’t know who’s winning when it comes to getting me angry,” she mumbled. She wasn’t about to dig dirt just for clicks, not without a bigger angle. But something about Ethan Blackwell didn’t fit the cold tycoon narrative. She’d seen it, for a second, when he’d looked at her in that office. And this was enough to make Harper Quinn curious.

Maya followed her back to the desk, grinning. “So what’s the plan?”

Harper dropped into her chair and opened her laptop. “No plan.”

“Uh-huh,” Maya said, sliding into the chair opposite hers. “Except you totally are going to chase this billionaire for a story, aren’t you?”

Harper didn’t answer, instead, she started flipping through the news archive she’d pulled up. From press releases to interviews, charity appearances, boardroom photos, speeches, and a few articles hinting at legal disputes, Harper combed through everything. But there was nothing personal. Nothing intimate. Ethan Blackwell’s life was a fortress.

She sighed. That’s what made him interesting. That’s what made her more curious.

She jotted down a list of possible leads: former employees who had resigned abruptly, investors who had quietly pulled out, childhood friends, and distant relatives mentioned in passing. She added notes on every public appearance and gala.

By mid-afternoon, Harper was in the zone. She had completely forgotten she hadn’t eaten anything all day. She emailed a contact who had connections to the Avalon Foundation — Ethan’s philanthropic network — and requested an invitation to the upcoming annual gala. This could be her foot in the door. This could be a chance to observe him in his element, among his peers and patrons, without the protection of assistants and PR handlers.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Maya: Going to be a fun night watching you work your magic.

Harper smiled faintly and typed back: I’m not “working magic.” I’m just trying to keep my job.

The thought of seeing Ethan again sent a flutter through her chest. She chastised herself instantly. He was a billionaire. He didn’t even know her name, or maybe he did. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t a night of fun, she had work to do. And she was going to do a damn good job.

She leaned back in her chair, swirling her company pen in her hands. It was getting late, but Harper was used to putting in the hours. That’s how she’d been able to climb up quickly, from a rookie intern to a well-respected journalist. Her mind raced through options. How was she going to play this? she mused. Either way, Ethan Blackwell would see through it. Her editor’s words echoed in her mind: If you want a career, you chase him.

Harper exhaled. She had always been drawn to challenges, the kind that tested her limits. Ethan Blackwell was exactly that: a man who would push her to think faster, question everything, and maybe, just maybe, make her feel alive in a way she never did before. She opened a fresh document on her laptop, titling it: Project Blackwell: Human Angle.

The city lights outside the office windows flickered as dusk settled over Manhattan. Harper Quinn had a plan now — and for the first time in weeks, she felt a spark of excitement she hadn’t felt in a long time. The chase had begun.

And she knew one thing for certain: Ethan Blackwell wasn’t going to make it easy.