Bonus Chapter: Dazzled

This is a character crossover bonus chapter, featuring Felipe from Office Affairs and Maya from Behind Office Doors. It was part of my 12 Days of Treats promo and was available for free on Wattpad until 5 Jan 2025, after which point it became exclusive to Beach Holiday subscribers on Ream. You can still read a sample below.

As the catchy tune blared through the radio, I drummed my fingertips against the heated leather steering wheel and stared at the queue of traffic ahead. I missed my old car. My trusty Corsa. Although perhaps not so trusty considering how often it broke down. Sitting in this brand-new Audi, fresh from the dealership's forecourt, I felt like a fraud. I didn't need a flashy car. I worked in London, for heaven's sake. It was a waste of money.

But Arun, my lovely brother, persuaded me to splash out. A worthwhile investment, he'd said. Nonsense. Everyone knew that a vehicle's value instantly depreciated the second its wheels left the showroom.

The queue crawled forwards, before stopping again. This car did have sensitive brakes, though. I liked that. And when we finally got to the junction half a mile away, its powerful engine would help me zoom into the first gap that appeared.

I turned up the temperature of my heated seat, the warmth delicious against my back. Melting away the stresses of the week.

Okay, so I was a sucker for mod-cons. I loved aesthetic things. Sleek designs. High tech. Even if I didn't need them, they made me happy. And right now, stuck in this horrendous congestion, it was the little things that eased the pain.

Only three cars away from the junction now. An irritating ballad began to play on the radio, so I tapped and flicked through the massive touchscreen to change stations. Did this count as driving while distracted? I glanced at each of my mirrors—no sign of any police. Should be okay. And besides, I wasn't technically driving. Just sitting here stationary.

At least any minutes in this queue were minutes not spent staring at a blank laptop screen, waiting for inspiration to strike so I could finish my book. Was it the characters or the plot? I'd asked myself the same question every weekend for the last month, and I was coming to the unfortunate conclusion that it was both. Without strong characters, the plot was stalling.

In a convergence of good fortune, the car ahead of me pulled out just as I found a decent track. I took my place at the head of the junction and waited. There was a van approaching, then a gap before the red car following it. I eased off the brake, ready to hit the accelerator as soon as the van passed. Crap. The red car was flying. Well over the speed limit. Idiot. Too risky.

I pushed down on the brake again. My flashy new Audi bobbed to an immediate halt. Then bobbed again with a sickening crunch at its rear.

Shit.

This car just lost a lot more value.

*

This wasn't my first time getting rear-ended. Not even my second time. On both of those previous occasions, I wasn't at fault, and I made sure the other drivers understood that.

This time, though, I was partially to blame. Only about ten percent—twenty tops—since the car behind shouldn't have been tailing me so closely. That was the only reason I didn't moan at the driver. It was nothing to do with the fact he was disarmingly handsome. And charming.

"I'm so sorry, love." He scraped a large hand through waves of floppy dark hair as he surveyed the damage to my bumper. "A twenty-four plate too. Fuck."

We'd pulled into a residential street a mile down the road, since staying at that junction would have only pissed off the rest of the queue. I'd worried he might drive off, but he'd followed me—this time keeping his distance.

"Let's just let the insurance companies deal with it," I said. "Can I grab your details?"

"I'd rather not involve insurance companies." The same hand that had been ruffling up his sexy hair now dipped into his back pocket. "They'll only put up our premiums. How about I write you a cheque to fix this privately?"

There was something about good-looking men. They could more easily fool you. For all I knew, his cheque could bounce, and I'd be left with a dented car and no way to fix it.

"Do you not have insurance?" I asked.

His deep brown eyes met mine. "Of course I do. You're driving a 24-reg Audi with a 3.0 engine. I imagine you're already paying a lot for your insurance, are you not?"

Irritation bristled up my spine, and not just at his insinuation. My insurance had skyrocketed with the new policy. I could afford it—I wouldn't have bought the car otherwise—but my last two accidents had burned me. Even though neither had been my fault, they'd deemed me higher risk and bumped up the quote.

Maybe settling this privately would be the best option. No, I was being stupid. As nice as this man seemed, I didn't know him. I couldn't trust him. No matter how beautiful his eyes or how sharp his jaw.

"I'd rather not have a cheque," I said. "It might bounce."

"Ah." His gaze softened as he nodded. "I understand."

Then he pulled out his wallet and, with it, a wad of twenty-pound notes. Apprehension tightened my gut. Who carried that much money nowadays?

I straightened my spine and pushed back my shoulders. "Do you always have that much cash on you?"

"No. I just robbed a millionaire." He flashed me a devilish grin, one which my heart had no right to respond to.

"Funny," I said dryly.

Adrenaline. That was the only reason my pulse raced. And fear, Maya! You don't know this man! I ignored the fear. We were in a residential street, surrounded by CCTV and video doorbells. He couldn't hurt me. And he also couldn't look less like a criminal if he tried. Pristine facial hair. Diesel jeans. A Hugo Boss polo shirt. Fresh cologne that smelled divine.

This man wasn't a thief. He was a rich guy who thought everything could be solved with money. I knew enough of those.

I'd bet he was used to getting his own way. A flash of that sinful smile. A playful wink. So disarming.

"I guess I don't need your details," I said. "I have your registration."

"You won't get very far with that." He thumbed through the notes. "They're cloned plates."

Now he was definitely messing with me. Huffing, I folded my arms and played along. "And your car? I suppose that's stolen too?"

"Oh, no. The car is mine. It's far too difficult to steal a car, even with cloned plates."

"Right." I let the sarcasm propel across the space between us. "You draw the line at stealing cash, then?"

"Exactly." He stopped leafing through the cash and instead just put the full wad on my car roof. "There's five thousand there. Should cover it. But if it doesn't, you can take a chance on my cheque not bouncing. I'll leave it blank so you can make up the difference."

Rather than get back into his Mercedes and drive off, he hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and waited for me to respond.

"And if you're really not comfortable and would prefer to go through insurance, that's fine. I just thought it'd be easier this way. Insurance companies are assholes. And I'm not." Another cheeky smile.

I plucked one note from the pile and inspected it. Not that I had any experience in counterfeit currency, but it seemed the sensible thing to do.

"How about a compromise," I said. "There's a garage a couple of miles away. We can go there together, they can inspect the damage and quote for the repairs, then you can pay them directly."

Just in case this money turned out to be dirty or fraudulent, I didn't want to get wrapped up in that. Besides, if this guy was dodgy, he'd probably want to avoid involving other people.

Maybe that's why I was relieved when he just smiled and said, "Great idea. Lead the way."

***

The rest of the bonus chapter is available to Beach Holiday subscribers on Ream. I will drop the link to my other bonus chapters in the comments, as well as a grid showing the full breakdown of benefits below, to help you decide whether you wish to subscribe.