Chapter 7 #2
I blush at the accolades, taking my hand back from the handshake. I hold out my palm toward the table where I have everything set up.
“After you,” Ezra says.
I make my way over to the table.
“I’ve been looking at photos of your home, and I have to say it is stunning.
” Before I can sit, Ezra grabs my chair and pulls it away from the table.
The gesture takes me by surprise, but I don’t complain.
I assume he is one of those old-school guys who enjoy pulling out chairs and holding doors open.
He finally takes his seat beside me.
“Yes.” He scoots in closer toward the table. “After viewing the home, I was sold. The location is everything. But I won’t lie, it needs a lot of work.”
I chuckle.
“Well, that’s why I’m here. Tell me what you envision for this house.”
“Honestly, my mind is a blank canvas. I don’t know what I want, but I know that what’s already there isn’t my style.”
“Okay, do you know what your style is? Any inspiration or artwork you admire?”
A slow grin fills his face. “Do you know the famous anonymous painter Bankman?”
“I do actually.”
Bankman was a graffiti-style artist. He is well known for his paintings and his anonymity to the world. Just recently, one of his artworks sold for 4 million.
Ezra’s grin spreads wider. He leans forward in his seat as if he’s about to tell me a secret.
“I’m Bankman.”
I gasp. My eyes scanning him from head to toe. He didn’t strike me as an artist when he walked in, but obviously looks can be deceiving.
“Oh my gosh. Seriously? I love your work. Wait, am I even supposed to know that?”
He chuckles. “No, and I’d hope you would keep my secret.”
I pretend to zip my lips. “I won’t tell a soul. I just can’t believe I’m meeting an actual celebrity.”
Technically, he isn’t a well-known celebrity, but his name is. People have been trying to unmask him for the last seven years since he came on the scene.
He waves me away. “I’m just a normal guy. But I told you because my art is my inspiration for the home. Something edgy, yet masculine and modern. And not black,” he chuckles. “My sister has been adamant about me not having everything black.”
“Does your sister have an eye for design?”
He grins. “No, she has an eye for being a bossy big sister. You’ll meet her. She and her husband don’t live too far from my new place. If I know her, she’ll want to be hands-on with this design.”
“No problem. Big sis seems like she knows her stuff.”
Ezra laughs, and I notice he has really nice teeth. They aren’t perfectly straight, but they are damn near close.
For the next hour, we go over plans and ideas for the home. Ezra is actually hilarious, and although he doesn’t admit it, he has an incredible insight into design. He’s single, and big on family. From this conversation alone, I can tell he’s very close to his sister.
“Oh, it’s late,” I say, glancing at my watch. “I didn’t mean to cut into your lunch.”
I gather my things and place them in a neat pile as I stand from the table. Ezra joins me.
“It’s no bother. I enjoyed talking to you. You really are as talented as the article painted you to be.”
My face heats with my blush.
“Thank you, but we haven’t done anything yet. For our next meeting, I would like to walk the property. See just what I’m working with and get some measurements so I can design some mockups.” We both head to the door.
“Of course. How soon can we plan that?”
“Well, I need to look into some of the things we talked about here, and I have a few meetings coming up in the next few days. Can we aim for Monday?”
He stops at the door, one hand on the handle. “Absolutely. I can’t wait. I really had a great time, Ms. Best.”
“Thank you. And remember, Mrs. Basille.”
He chuckles. “I’ll try to remember.” He winks before opening the door.
“Maybe I can help your memory,” the deep voice says, causing me to nearly leap out of my skin.
Standing at the door in a spectacularly tailored black suit is my husband.
His dark hair is slicked back, the sides cut low.
Those dark brown eyes are staring intensely at me.
For a second, those brown eyes seem to gaze into my soul.
He doesn’t speak another word, but I’m too paralyzed to move.
The way he’s watching me with his hands down in his pockets, casually leaning against the door, makes me feel as if I just got caught doing something wrong.
“You must be the lucky man,” Ezra says, breaking the silence. He extends a hand to Nico. Many people don’t know who Nico is. He stays away from the spotlight much like Ezra. His name is well known, but his face isn’t.
Slowly, as if it pains him, Nico pulls his gaze away from me and places it on Ezra. The moment those chocolate eyes move from me, I let out a deep breath.
“I am Niccolo Basille, and you are?”
“Ezra Blackwell. It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Basille.”
Nico looks down at the extended hand without offering his in return. He turns to me. “I’m here to take you to lunch. Are you hungry?”
The gesture is kind, but I wasn’t a fan of the way he was asking.
Folding my arms over my chest, I cock a brow to Nico. “Mr. Blackwell, forgive my husband. He’s having a bad day.” I say in explanation of Nico’s rude and dismissive actions.
Ezra chuckles, dropping his hand back at his side. “No need to apologize, Tiffany. I’ll see you Monday then?”
“Of course.”
Ezra turns to Nico once again. “Still a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Basille.”
Again, Nico doesn’t reply. Ezra quickly squeezes past my husband and heads out the room. I never take my gaze off Nico.
“Are you serious?” I ask, going over to the table to grab my books. “That was so rude. The man was being nice.”
When I turn back around, Nico is standing in front of me. His gaze narrows as he looks at me closely. He stares silently for a moment.
“What?” I finally ask when he makes no attempt to speak.
“You know I love you, right?”
I sigh. “Yes, Nico.”
“Don’t make me kill him, Tiffany.”
The warning was not made in jest. In fact, I felt the threat all the way to my toes. Saint was bleeding into Nico.