Page 11 of Crash Course Omega
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 whois 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’tthatrare of a name.
“Harmony Grace! Over here!”
The whine grows louder, and I look over my shoulder, my heart clenching.
