Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
My dad might not have a crown, but he was a king and I was treated like a princess. Great in theory, but not so good when it came to figuring out whether or not my boyfriends liked me for me or for the advantageous connection to my father our relationship would provide. History told me my father’s wealth and power coaxed the worst kind of men out of the woodwork, like ants following the scent of sugar.
Despite Tristan clearly bidding on me to impress my father, he didn’t seem exactly like the others. No doubt he’d prove me wrong.
“He’s totally hot. And you get to spend the evening with him. Plus, he donated twenty-five grand to this charity. You could have been a little nicer to him.”
Sutton was right. I should have been nicer to him—he was a major donor tonight. Which reminded me, I’d need to check we got his money. I didn’t want him changing his mind and backing out. “I suppose. But if he’s taking me out because of who my dad is—which he obviously is—I’m not sure nosing into my business is the best way to go about it.”
“Maybe he’s just being himself instead of the suck-ups and grifters you’ve dated in the past. Maybe he’s different. Maybe he’s the guy you end up marrying.”
Urgh. I wish Sutton would stop going on about her half-baked idea to marry me off. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve told you I’m not getting married just to get access to my trust fund.” There was a time when I thought marrying the man of my dreams would be part of my twenties—not to get my hands on my trust, but because I loved the man who’d asked me. But that ship had sailed.
“Stop being so stubborn. Getting married would be an easy way to raise the money for the parents and care givers program you want to establish.”
I sighed. The twenty-five thousand pounds Tristan had donated was a lot of money, but it wasn’t enough. Tonight, Sunrise, the charity I’d worked so hard for over the last three years, would bring in an additional hundred thousand pounds. It was a huge amount of money but it was nothing compared to the twenty-five million I’d be able to donate if I got my hands on my trust fund. “Better to convince my dad to change the rules of the trust than to marry someone. I’m not giving up my last name for anyone.” I’d learned my lesson. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
“You don’t have to give up your last name just because you get married. This isn’t the nineteen fifties. But that’s not the issue at hand. You want that twenty-five million and you’ve been trying to convince your dad to change the rules of your trust for the last three years. If he was going to do it, he’d have done it by now. You’re going to have to face up to the fact that if you want access to your trust, you’re going to have to get married. There’s no other way.”
“So what, you think I should just marry someone I meet in the street?”
She shrugged like it was an actual possibility that I was going to march to the altar with a complete stranger. “You’d need to get a prenup obviously.”
“Sutton!”
“It’s a win-win. If, like you say, Hottie McGorgeous is trying to impress your dad—what better way than to marry his daughter? The only problem is . . .”
A knot of regret pinched in my stomach that there might be a serious obstacle to her hair-brained scheme. Not that I was actually considering marriage to Tristan as a possibility. “What?”
“You’re going to look a little funny together. He’s a foot and a half taller than you.”
“Stop exaggerating. He’s six two, max. That’s a foot.”
It shouldn’t have, but the thought made me shiver. I’d bet he could pick me up in one huge hand. I wasn’t sure I’d object if he tried.
Four
Parker
It had been a long month. The hours I’d been working to prepare for the Sunrise gala had been brutal, and now it was all over. We’d far exceeded our one-hundred-thousand-pound target—by twenty grand. I was going to make the most of having a Friday evening off.
I padded through my flat, wearing my favorite cow print pajamas with a freshly applied facemask that promised a dewy, youthful glow. I bet Tristan had plenty of dewy, youthful girls at his beck and call—no face mask required. I wasn’t competing, yet at the same time, I didn’t want tomorrow night to be a pity date. He might have bid on me to impress my father, but I was going to trick him—not into marriage as Sutton suggested—but at least into a good time. He’d see that I was date-worthy, regardless of who my father was.