6. Harmony
Harmony
It’s absolutely pouring on the streets of Vegas.
In October, it shouldn’t be burning with sun, but Vegas isn’t exactly known for rain.
The qualifying races decide the positions the drivers will start in for the Grand Prix tomorrow. If it rains too hard, they won’t run them today, and it might screw up the weekend.
My manager wanted me to go clubbing last night for the PR, and I was planning on it. Until she said some of the F1 drivers would be there, and I really didn’t want to risk running into Jaxx again.
I’ve been wired since I saw Maddock and Jaxx two days ago, and I’m praying I can trust a man I literally just met and who is famous for sleeping around to keep the fact I’m here a secret from his teammate.
That’s why I should have never listened to my omega senses in the first place.
By the time I’d reached the hotel, all I’d wanted to do was sleep. But as soon as I’d unpacked and laid down, I was wide awake, my body sizzling over Jaxx and the way he’d held me.
For someone who’s meant to be a playboy, he’d been so soft and caring, and every part of me craved his touch again. I kept the clothes with his scent, but they’re blended with the lilies of that other omega, so I haven't added it to the temporary nest in my hotel room.
I’m an idiot to think that I can avoid him for the entire weekend. I’m Harmony Grace—I can’t go anywhere without being noticed.
Except at 4AM out on the streets of Vegas, where most people are either drunk, taxi drivers, or venue staff getting ready for the weekend.
And it’s a perfect time for a jog.
Normally I’m stuck in a hotel gym and people will come up to me every minute to introduce themselves and get a selfie or pass along a business card. I felt like such a snob having two bodyguards to keep people away from me when I want some privacy.
So, I let my bodyguards sleep because we have a full weekend planned. Plus, there’s CCTV on all the streets in case something happens.
The Vegas circuit is no joke, and the entire city drips with money.
But I’m running on the track, protected by the barriers. The low beat of music from nearby casinos and occasional shouts of partiers on the streets is weirdly peaceful.
Each thud of my foot landing on the hard tarmac echoes in my head. I don’t listen to music as I run. I want to feel the full push of my body, to hear my breaths, and the ache of my muscles, to prove to myself that I’m not invincible.
I raced the Vegas track both years I was in the F2 championship, and I dreamed of being on the F1 circuit, but it was never meant for me.
People liked to speculate about why I left F2, but they still don’t believe that I really wanted to be an actress.
I’d followed in my dad and brother’s footsteps my whole life because I was a good driver, even better than Jacob.
But as one of the only female omegas in F2 and the daughter of Reggie Grace, I was offered places in adverts, then a small TV part, then a larger part in a movie.
I’d told Mum since I was young that I wanted to be a star, but they always thought I meant as a driver.
Our family's religion is F1. Me, Jacob, and our oldest brother, Viktor, were all raised to be racers.
Our Mum is F1 royalty, and our Dad was seven times world champion.
There was no space for any other kind of dream growing up like that.
Mum and Jacob are the only ones who accepted me and helped me take acting classes. Because the moment I quit racing, I was shut out from family dinners and celebrations. I can only go home when Dad isn’t there, and Viktor blanks me whenever he sees me.
I never publicly attended a Grand Prix after that because I know how important it is to my family, but I still miss it all. And just the smell of the rain on the tarmac is enough to get my heart pumping.
I made my choice. Just like I chose to accept the lead role in a movie about a female omega in Formula One, produced and sponsored by my own bloody family.
But I need to get away from the Ross incident. So many new scandals have come up since then with other celebrities, but people still think I’m a needy omega who stalked my alpha male co-star, when it was the other way around.
And even though I’ve told them again and again that he was the one that harassed me, female omegas always get the worst of it.
I'll use Slipstream Seduction to prove to myself again that I made the right choice to leave racing. Though picking a movie that screams nepotism isn’t exactly the best idea, I need something familiar. And F1 is my comfort food.
As I run off the track and a road near the circuit, I hear it.
The high buzz of a moped. It could be anything. A delivery person or someone going to work early, or just someone enjoying the torrential rain like I am.
Until a shout comes from behind me.
“Harmony!”
My heart drops, and I keep a steady jog, just hoping I’d misheard it. Every night is a party night in Vegas, and it could just be people out having fun. And Harmony isn’t that rare of a name.
“Harmony Grace! Over here!”
The whine grows louder, and I look over my shoulder, my heart clenching.
Because racing up behind me is a bright orange moped, two guys in white helmets riding it. One steers, shouting my name as he gets closer, and the guy on the back is already snapping pictures with his camera.
“Harmony! Wait up! We just want to ask you a few questions!”
I really wish I could just get a moment's peace. How did they even find me when I didn’t tell anyone I was coming out? I hadn't even told my staff I was leaving.
They must have staked out the hotel and followed me around outside of the track.
I pick up speed, but there is no way I can outrun a moped.
Suddenly, they are right next to me. He sticks the camera straight in my face, driving at the same speed I’m running, and shouting so many questions so loudly that I growl.
“Harmony! Where are you going? Come on, just stop for us and answer a few questions! We just want to have a nice chat!”
But that’s what they all say.
Getting angry is the worst way to deal with the press. I’m so tempted to shove them, but then the story will be that I'd attacked them.
I need to escape, and the only place I can see is the team garages coming up on my right-hand side. So, I take a chance and run for it.
After every race, each team will pack up the entire operation and move it to the next location and country in time for the practice races on Friday.
And that includes the entire garage where the cars are built and maintained, which is open on both sides.
Deliveries come on one side, and pit stops on the other.
Which means I can throw myself into a garage from the delivery side and get back onto the track.
Heart pumping from the run, tension squeezes my chest as I focus on where I’m going instead of the nonstop questions and demands.
I nearly cry out in relief as the green and white of the Grace team comes into view. They’re in the middle of the long line of ten garages, one for each team.
I reach the garage, sprinting halfway across the wide opening, making it seem like I’m going to run on.
But the second we reach the center, I dart left into the garage, and the moped sails on.
All I need is somewhere to hide in the brightly lit space.
It’s weird seeing a garage so empty. Normally they’re full to the brim with people, but there’s only one man leaning over the chassis of a half-built car.
I bolt forward, heading straight toward him.
The moped engine whines as they turn. They’re going to be on me soon, so I dart around the car, throwing myself between its body and the man's.
“Hide me!” I gasp, dropping to the floor. The car is raised off of the ground, but there’s a solid stand underneath, enough to keep me hidden from the back door of the garage.
I tuck myself in against the car, glancing over my shoulder, hoping I can’t see them, even though the moped engine is echoing inside the garage as they pull in.
“Excuse me.” The man's low voice cuts over the sound, and a bolt of fear shoots straight through me. “What are you doing?”
I tilt my head, looking up at him, about to reply, but his gaze is fixed on the door of the garage.
“Harmony! We know you’re in here. Stop running away from us,” one of the reporters shouts.
They don’t even answer his question; they just keep yelling my name.
I look up, and my breath catches at the large alpha above me. He glances down, though he looks at the car rather than me.
At this angle, I can only see his tanned skin and his black hair.
He sighs as he pulls a phone from his khaki shorts. He wears a polo shirt with the Grace's team’s logo, along with the logos of all the sponsors.
“What are you doing?” one of the reporters asks.
“Calling the police,” he says simply.
“What? Why? You can’t do that.”
“This is a private area. Unless you have permission from the Grace family and the FIA, you are not permitted to enter.”
“We know she came in here. Come on, we just wanted to ask her a few questions.”
His stare says he absolutely doesn’t believe them, and I grin as the call connects.
“Hello, is this the Las Vegas Police Department? Yes? I'd like to report two trespassers on the Formula One compound. The specific location? Hang on.” He pauses, looking at the two of them as he raises an eyebrow.
“Okay! We get it!” A reporter holds up his hands. “Just hang up. We’ll go.”
But he doesn’t. He keeps talking, reading off their number plate before describing them both in detail as they shout at him. He doesn’t move as he speaks, and it feels like he’s guarding me and keeping me safe.
And the whole time I crouch between his legs, the scent of pine and fresh rainwater circles around me like a cooling blanket, calming me down.
It’s so stunningly delicious that I nearly moan.
Even though I know I’m in danger if the reporters find me in this position, I keep taking deep breaths, settling into the amazing refreshing feeling of his scent.
I want to sink into him, to grab hold of him and rub myself all over him like I did with Jaxx. Even with the reporters here, my omega senses are telling me to stick to this alpha like glue.
He ends the call, staring at the two reporters like he’s mildly annoyed while also disinterested in everything they have to say.
“It’s up to you whether you wait here for them to arrest you, or run until the police find you. Either way, you won’t be participating in any events in this city for a long time.”
He waits, watching them with a neutral expression that’s pretty hot.
“I have to get back to work, so I recommend leaving now before they give your details to the airport. And possibly border patrol.”
The moped buzzes to life, and I can hear swearing and clattering.
“Harmony,” they call. “We’ll get that interview from you. You better be ready!”
There are more threats before they jump onto their moped and drive off.
I sit here, tense and waiting. Only the sounds of the city interrupt my racing heart and distract me from the scent that has nearly taken me over.
“They're gone,” the alpha says softly. “You can get up now.”
I don’t notice I’m trembling. It might be from the Vegas rain soaking my skin, but I can still see dots in my eyes from where the camera flashed in my face.
I’ve been harassed so many times since I became famous that I thought I could handle it.
Jolting, I realize I’m clinging to his bare calves, but there’s nothing else to hold onto when I’m crouched down like this.
As we watch each other, his pheromones grow thicker, and my scent becomes stronger, and I know my nipples aren’t hard just from the rain.
My eyes widen, red flushing my cheeks as I realize my face is right at the level of his crotch.
I try not to overreact as I drag my hands back. They’re warm from how hard I’d gripped him, and I liked how I hadn't been able to wrap my fingers all the way around his calves.
I try to edge away from him, but I’m trapped between him and the car.
And then, the worst thing happens. I suddenly lose my balance as I move.
Crying out, I try to throw myself back, but it’s too late. My feet slip from under me, and I fall forward, face-planting into the alpha's crotch.
I panic, flailing about, trying to get away as his thick scent winds through my head, making me dizzy. My pussy reacts instantly, and I have to force myself not to dig in to get more of his musk.
I grab his thighs, my fingers denting his muscle as I shove myself back, gasping and moaning as my body lights up like fireworks.
“What are you doing?” he asks, like nothing has happened, and he didn't just have an omega gagging over him.
I need to get away from him before I do anything else.
I shoot upwards as quickly as I can, and moan again as my breasts press right against his chest.
He must be over 6ft, and his chest is so wide that I could use him as a pillow.
Pleasure fires through my nipples as I rub against him, and I gasp, jumping backwards, only to hit off of the chassis. He quickly throws his hands out, grabbing my hips, dragging me hard against his body, his crotch grinding against my stomach.
Another shudder goes through me. And we both freeze.
Because we can feel it circling around us, pounding through us, asking to connect: the scent match.
He leans in close, and my heart races as his gaze travels over my face. His nostrils flare, and the curiosity in his eyes morphs into dark lust that shudders through my whole body.
It can’t be real. I can’t have found another scent match so quickly.
His hands tighten on my hips, and I’m sure he’s going to kiss me like Jaxx did. Because that’s what every alpha who has me in this position will do.
I’m already arching my back and preparing myself for it.
“Excuse me,” he says, his grip tightening as he literally picks me up.
He turns ninety degrees, neatly plopping me on the floor right next to him before whipping his hands back like I’d burned him.
“If there’s nothing else, could you please leave? I need to work.”
My mouth drops open as he turns away from me and leans back over the chassis.
With my body humming and my core already throbbing, I’m so pent up I’m about to grab him and scent mark him just to get closer to him.
But he doesn’t even look at me. He does exactly what he said. He just goes right on and gets back to work.