Chapter 2

2.

I fastened my helmet and swung my leg over the Ducati Panigale V4.

Chase strode over, grabbing my hand just as I was about to start the engine.

"Nora, don't do this. It's Harper's birthday, everyone's just messing around. This is a private track, but you've never ridden a liter-bike before. Your insurance doesn't cover track accidents."

"Just be a good girl and go to the VIP lounge to cheer me on, okay?"

It was always like this. At yacht parties in Newport Beach, polo matches, or private track days, I was always the trophy, holding a glass of champagne and smiling prettily on the sidelines.

I pulled my hand away without a word.

Looking into those blue eyes, the ones People magazine voted "Sexiest in the World," I said no for the first time.

"Not today. Your 'on-screen girlfriend' is right there. Let her be the cheerleader."

The crowd around us laughed, saying I was "jealous" and that Chase should calm me down.

A flash of annoyance crossed Chase's face―the embarrassment of being publicly defied.

"I'm worried about you. You've never handled a bike like this."

He lowered his voice, with a warning only I could hear. "We all grew up with Harper. She's one of the guys. Everyone here knows that."

The looks from the others instantly turned smug, radiating the exclusive superiority of people from the same zip code.

Harper sauntered over, casually draping her arm over Chase's shoulder, a Corona in her hand.

"That's right, Nora. We've always been this close. They barely even see me as a girl. We used to have peeing contests in the pool as kids."

"You don't have friends like that, so you wouldn't get it. Let us have our race, and I'll give him right back to you."

Everyone acted like what Harper said was normal―typical, blunt American humor.

Chase's eyes were filled with disapproval of my "childish tantrum."

I fought down the nausea rising in my stomach and twisted the throttle hard.

The engine's roar tore through the air.

I met Harper's gaze, my voice cold. "Since it's a birthday celebration, why not make it more interesting?"

"Your rules. If you beat me, you can name your price."

Seeing that I wouldn't back down, Chase's expression hardened―the control freak in the A-list actor and Sterling family heir was showing.

Another guy in a Supreme hoodie whistled. "Bro, you're so whipped."

The tenderness on Chase's face vanished completely.

He looked at me, his eyes turning cold.

"Nora Jiang."

He used my full name, his tone like he was scolding an unruly intern.

"You really want to do this? Fine. But don't come crying to me when you crash."

I just snorted.

Harper saw my expression and raised an eyebrow. "Alright, so everyone wants a piece of me today?"

"How about this―you have to beat everyone else who wants to race me first. Then, you can challenge me."

She pointed a finger at Brad, the one who started the cheering.

"Brad, I know how you ride. If you go easy on her... we double the bet."

Brad stepped forward, trying to be the peacemaker. "Hey, it's Harper's birthday, she calls the shots. Maybe we should just drop it? That bike's a beast. If you break a leg, it won't look good at the engagement party tomorrow."

"I'll cover the doubled bet," I cut in coldly.

The crowd jeered. "Shouldn't Chase be paying? Why are you using your own money?"

Brad's face turned red.

Chase shot me a look, then chuckled and patted Harper's back.

"It's her birthday. Stop making a scene."

Harper hopped onto the back of Chase's Kawasaki H2, wrapping her arms around his waist intimately and pressing her face against his back.

A chorus of whistles erupted.

I was used to it by now.

I clicked the bike into gear and lowered my helmet's visor.

"Less talk. Let's go."