I glance at her before turning back to the image.
She continues, greedy for my conversation. “Bankman is a mastermind. The man never shows his face. Imagine my surprise when he walked into my gallery and offered to showcase some of his work.” She giggles and then leans over toward me. “We aren’t supposed to say anything; you know he likes to remain anonymous, but he’s here today.”
“Yes, I know,” I say, turning to face her.
She looks shocked but offers me a weak smile.
“Well, if you are interested in that painting, let me know.” She scurries off, leaving me alone.
I turn back to the painting.
“Ah, redemption,” a male voice says behind me. “It’s one of my favorites. It would add to any room you decide…. Mr. Basille.”
Ezra’s words die the moment I turn to face him. His brows knit together with concern before he quickly smooth them out. A smile turns his lips up casually.
“So you do know my last name. Funny, whenever you’re around my wife, you tend to forget it.”
His smile falters only slightly before he recoups it.
He chuckles as if I’ve told a joke.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Basille?”
I turn away from him, glancing back at the painting. “I’m not a good man, Ezra. Hell, I’m not even nice.” Turning back to him, I cock my head to the side. “But for my wife, I am trying to be better. She deserves my best.”
He nods his head. “I’m not sure where you are going with this?”
“I will come to you only once as a man. Stay away from my wife.”
He gives me another one of those playful chuckles. Holding his hands up in surrender, he says, “I assure you, I’m not trying to take your wife. Tiffany and I are…”
This time I laugh. It isn’t jovial. “If I believed you were trying to take Tiffany, I would have already scattered your brains over this overpriced, mediocre painting.” The smile immediately falls from his face.
“I’m not here because I see you as a threat. I’m here because I’m trying to fix my relationship with my wife, and if I kill you, it will delay that process.”
He swallows but lifts his chin defiantly. “I’m her client. We’ve already started a project. What do you want me to do, fire her? Do you really want that on your conscience?”
I’ll admit, I look at Ezra a little differently. He had a lot of grit in him. Pointing out that Tiffany would be devastated if her first client after coming back to work fired her. However, I didn’t give a shit. I’d have ten more muthafuckers hire her tonight.
“You’re a smart man, Ezra Michael Blackwell.” His eyes balloon when I call him by his full name. Just as I had requested, Ghost got me everything I needed to know about Mr. Blackwell.
“Being raised by two meth-addicted parents in the slums of Idaho and making it all the way to California tells me you’re smart and crafty. Even your small stint in jail due to check fraud couldn’t keep you from this mediocre success.” I point to the painting on the wall. “With all your wits and smarts, I know you can figure out a way to work with Tiffany without being around her.”
His jaw tenses and his blue eyes narrow.
I step forward, taking away the space that’s between us. Although Ezra is tall, he is nowhere near as tall as me. Staring down into his eyes, I leave him with one last warning.
“I do not repeat myself. At least not nicely. This will be your only warning. Do we have an understanding, Mr. Blackwell?”
There is a moment of defiance in his eyes. A small spark of challenge. I almost get a thrill as I think he will defy me. However, he tucks the aggression away and takes a step back.
“I understand.”
I allow him this reprieve. Without another word, I turn my back to him and walk away.
“What will you come to me as?”
Stopping at his question, I turn around, and face him. “Excuse me?”
