My heart, which to that point had felt like it was attached to a hundred helium balloons, landed with a thump. Of course. The hunk knew my father and was no doubt trying to impress him with a high bid.
I plastered on a smile. “Good to be introduced.”
“Very good to meet you.” He took my hand in his. I was acutely aware of how small mine was in his giant hand. He could crush my bones into flour if he squeezed too hard. “I’m Tristan, and I’m looking forward to our dinner very much.”
I sighed. He’d won the bid. He’d impressed my father. He could stop. There was no way this was going any further. There was a reason I’d been single for three years; I’d had enough of guys who were interested in dating the daughter of Arthur Frazer and all that entailed. “Oh, there’s really no need to actually go through with it. They have your bank details, right?”
“There is every reason,” my father replied. “This man paid twenty-five thousand pounds for the privilege of a night with you. You better make it worth his while.”
Tristan cleared his throat.
“Dad,” I said, in the you’re embarrassing me voice I hadn’t used since I was a teenager. “You’re making me sound like a hooker. The auction catalogue didn’t say anything about me providing my date with a good time.”
“Good grief, Parker. I didn’t mean it like that. But Tristan here is on strict instructions to take you out and show you some fun.”
I rolled my eyes. My father was the worst. “Okay, Dad.”
Thank goodness, someone interrupted before he could say anything even more inappropriate. He allowed himself to be guided back toward the ballroom with a silent wave.
“So,” I said, tipping my head back to meet Tristan’s gaze. “Dinner it is. Somewhere we can sit down so I don’t get a sore neck.”
He chuckled. “Do your dates often take you to restaurants without seating?”
“I’ve been strictly food markets until now.”
“I think we can do a little better than that. Give me your phone.”
I handed it to him and he punched in some numbers. As he was typing, a notification went off on my phone. “Gillian wants to know if you’re going to Pilates tomorrow,” he said.
“Hey, don’t read my messages.”
He laughed. “Don’t hand strangers your phone.”
“You asked for it!” Who was this guy?
“Oh, and what’s this?” he said, sweeping his thumb down my screen. “Oblix Holdings just debited sixty-seven pounds from your account.”
I groaned. “Not again.” I snatched the phone back from him. “Sixty-seven? That’s worse than last time.” I opened up the message and sure enough, the charity account had another debit from a company I’d never heard of.
“You okay?” he asked. “You look like you have to go on a date with a stranger for money.”
One side of his mouth was curled up in a half smile and his almost-irresistible laugh lines were back.
“I’ll figure it out. I just keep getting these debits from my account and I don’t know why.”
“They’re unauthorized?” He snatched the phone back from me. “Have you spoken to your bank?”
“Yes!” I tried to wrestle my phone back but he just held it up higher than I could reach.
“How many times has it happened?” His voice had taken on a dark, serious note. I tried to ignore the buzz it sent between my legs.
“None of your concern. Give me my phone back, please. This is my problem. Not yours.”
He tossed me my phone and I caught it. “You could make it my problem,” he said. “It’s what I do, after all.”
What was it with guys who thought they knew better than me?
“Thanks. But I’ve got it covered.” I didn’t have it covered. I didn’t have much faith that my bank had it covered, but better to do nothing than have a perfect stranger asking questions I didn’t want to answer.
“Give me a call if you want me to help. Otherwise, text me your address and I’ll pick you up on Saturday at seven.” He turned and headed out.
“Wait,” I called after him. “I’m taking you to dinner, not the other way around. I can’t do Saturday.”
“Sure you can,” he said as he kept walking without turning around. “I saw your calendar. You’re not busy on a single Saturday night between now and Christmas.”
How could one man be so thoroughly annoying, and at the same time, send lust circling between my thighs?
I turned to find Sutton at my side. “Can you believe that guy?” My outrage was completely fake. Not many men spoke to me like Tristan had. Having a man like Arthur Frazer as a father took care of that. Every man I’d ever dated had either taken me out because I was his daughter or found out shortly after we’d started dating and had continued to take me out because I was his daughter. Either way, it meant I had dictated the terms of every romantic relationship I’d ever had. My boyfriends had never contradicted or denied me.