3. Harmony
Harmony
“Harmony! How's the new movie going so far? What's your plan for Slipstream Seduction?”
“Harmony! How does it feel to be back at the Las Vegas track for the first time in three years?”
“Harmony! Can you comment on your recent scandal with Ross McLean?”
I pause, almost stopping as they catch me out.
I knew they were going to ask me about Ross, but it’s still a stab in the heart that they won’t drop it after four months.
I picked up the Formula 1 movie, Slipstream Seduction, to get away from the drama, but reporters follow me wherever I go.
With huge sunglasses and a headscarf, I shouldn’t have been noticed, but my team must have leaked my location again. I have too many staff and someone is getting paid under the table, so I can’t go anywhere without a crowd.
I thought the airport would be big enough that I could sneak by unnoticed. With the fourth to last race of the Formula 1 season starting in just days, the place is already packed with thousands of people.
And even flying privately isn’t enough to stay hidden.
My huge alpha bodyguard nudges me from behind as another leads in front. All three of us keep pushing through the grabby hands and phones thrust in my face.
I focus on the clicking of my heels, trying to drown out the fifty people who crowd around me like it is an auction and I am the prize.
“Harmony! Harmony! Harmony!” It is a chant that repeats wherever I go.
“Harmony Grace!” A high scream bursts from my left.
I gasp as someone flings themselves through the crowd. As I fall backward, my bodyguard catches me as the other jumps forward to stop the omega tackling me.
“Harmony! It's me! I’m your mate! I love you!” His voice is so high-pitched it scratches my ears. “I know we’re scent matches! Let me be your omega!”
Perfume bursts from him, and the scent of lilies pours out of him.
I cry out, backing away from him, and into the arms of the reporters. They start shouting more questions in my face, grabbing my arms, tugging at me to make me turn and face them.
Panic flares inside me as I struggle against them.
My bodyguards are too tied up with the omega to help, and cameras and phones are already pointing straight toward me.
I can't act out here. I’m still suffering from the Ross drama, and if I cause another scene, I’ll get branded as a crazy actress again.
I throw my weight forward, wrenching myself from all the hands that grasp me.
But I’m knocked into the back of my bodyguard. I manage to straighten myself before scanning the airport, trying to find a way to escape.
And then I see him, and my heart freefalls at a million miles an hour amidst all the chaos.
I’m not ready yet. My brother said I wouldn't have to see Maddock until after the Grand Prix. I’m only in Vegas to watch the race, run over the script for the movie, and learn the promotion schedule for my Formula 1 crash course.
But all the noise around me vanishes as Maddock Harrison fills my vision.
And I instantly perfume.
A gasp goes through the entire crowd.
“I knew it!” the omega shouts, still fighting my bodyguard. “I knew we were mates!”
I suck in a harsh breath as fresh strawberries and cream bloom around me.
Maddock blocks everything out with headphones and is busy getting his bags from point A to B with the same expression he had three years ago before my last race.
He looks amazing. Even though I just catch glances of him through the wave of people, he still stands out as one of the most dominant alphas in the sea of white and green team members.
I bite back a whimper as the reporters start up again.
“We’ll take care of this! Go wait in the car!” my bodyguard shouts back to me.
I nod as he quickly clears a space, and I shoot through the crowd, strawberries trailing after me.
There’s a corner that looks like it leads to nothing about fifty feet away. That seems safer than trying to wade through a thousand people to the car park. I have a tracker in my bag which means they can find me when they’ve handled the situation.
Running in heels is a bitch, but I can do it when I’m being chased by a hoard of reporters frothing at the mouth.
“Harmony! Why did you just perfume!?”
“Harmony! Is that omega really your scent match?”
“Harmony! Come back and answer us!”
They are relentless.
I hoped that because I was one of hundreds of celebrities passing through that I might get some peace. But Vegas’ media population basically doubles in size for a Grand Prix.
If I'd moved from F2 up to F1 back when I had the offers, maybe they would have acted differently. Though they had already been interested in me when I was one of the few female omega drivers on the F2 circuit.
But now major F1 sponsors used me for their marketing for exactly that reason.
I keep running over the tiled floor, with the omega's scent still clinging to me. I'd rather smell his scent than deal with the memories of Maddock's deep leather and firewood that still haunt my dreams.
I’m used to people using their scents as an excuse to get closer to me.
Though it is usually more with alphas than omegas.
They say we are scent matches and we belong together forever, and that means I’d fall in love with them.
Then they’d throw their scents at me to prove it, which never works.
It is worse with alphas, because they can send me into a daze and make me more agreeable if I’m not careful. Exactly like what happened with Ross.
I shoot around the corner, not stopping for a second until I know I’m safe. Except the air is knocked out of me as I crash into a broad chest, and I’m instantly surrounded by the scent of cedar and honey.
All my omega senses spark up as my palms land on his pecs, and I nearly fall.
“Whoa there, sweetheart,” he says in a smooth Texan accent. He reaches out, gripping my forearms, pulling me closer to his warm body and his rich scent. “We wouldn’t want you toppling over there, would we?”
A shudder goes through me, and I have to bite back my purr as my perfume blooms again, and I bury myself in Jaxx Sands’ arms.