Page 51 of I Knew You Were Trouble

‘Something on your mind?’ he asks.

‘How can you tell?’ I ask, feigning disbelief, and we share a soft laugh. He watches me, patiently waiting for me to tell him what’s going on, and I gently ease out of his embrace.

‘Okay, here goes,’ I say. I take a deep breath. ‘You remember that case I told you about – the one with the guy who’s engaged to two women?’

‘I do, yes.’

‘So, it turns out there’s athirdwoman and I’ve been volunteered to become the fourth.’

Tristan blinks at me in surprise. ‘Am I going to need a whisky before you tell me the rest?’ he asks, and I can tell he’s only half-joking.

‘Probably. Actually,definitely. And I’ll join you.’

Tristan goes to our drinks trolley and pours two hefty slugs of his favourite whisky – Tomatin – and I climb onto the sofa, sitting cross-legged. He joins me, handing me a tumbler, and we clink the rims together, then take a drink.

‘Right, now that I’m suitablylubricated,’ he says with a sexy smile, ‘tell me why my wife is about to take a lover.’

‘Eww!’ I backhand him lightly in the chest and he pretends that it hurt. ‘I am not “taking a lover” – and if you knew anything about this guy… Just,no, Tris.Blech,’ I say with a shudder.

‘Duly noted,’ he says, landing a peck on my lips.

‘But I will have topretendto be interested in the slimy weasel.’

‘Sounds, er… challenging.’

‘Well, yeah. And I’m going to need your help.’

‘My help? Wouldn’t this be more Shaz’s domain? Or Jacinda’s?’

‘No, because our mark is a toffee-nosed, lazy git from old money, and I’ll need your advice on how to charm him.’

‘BecauseI’ma toffee-nosed, lazy git from old money?’ he asks with a laugh.

‘No! But you did grow up around people like that,’ I reply, and he eyes me with amusement.

Tristan is from old money – and he did inherit millions from his grandfather – but unlike Jon Dunn, Tristan has worked extremely hard since he left uni. His professional accomplishments are testament of his tenacity and work ethic. He also donates a huge sum annually to an array of causes – including, of course, an arts’ education program.

‘There’s something else,’ I say.

‘Some other way to insult me?’

‘Hardly. You know you’re my favourite person.’

He winks at me.

‘No, it’s about that arts’ program you donate to, Creative Futures.’

‘Wedonate to, darling,’ he says, correcting me. But as much as Tristan refers to his considerable wealth as ours, I still struggle to get my head around it sometimes.

‘Right –wedonate to. Anyway, listen to this…’

As I fill Tristan in on the rest of the sting operation, including how it could boost the foundation’s coffers, he gets more and more excited.

‘What do you reckon?’ I ask.

‘Ireckonthat it’s brilliant. And even if means helping my wife get engaged to someone else, I’m in.’

‘Thank you, babe,’ I reply. I take another sip of whisky.

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