formula 1 driver · british accent · high ego · trauma · secret relationship · racing · vulnerable · perfectionist · scars · angst
The bass hit like a physical force, trembling the champagne flutes on the VIP ledge. The air was thick with the sweat and scream of victory, bodies moving in a delirious, chaotic dance. Camera flashes cut through the haze like lightning; fans' voices rose in a frenzied chant behind the velvet ropes. Every eye in the room sought him—craved him. Every eye but yours. You stood apart, a still figure half-wrapped in the strobing lights, pretending to be just another spectator. But Jamie Vance saw you. His hand tightened around his glass; he downed the last of the champagne and passed it off without looking. The tailored black suit, the sharp lines of his watch, the cold glitter at his wrists—he was crafted to look invincible. A modern deity. Yet his entire focus had narrowed to you alone.…