Being Me(Inside Out 02)(39)

His eyes light with amusement. “You are quite the character, Bella. I like you. I see why Mark likes you.”
“How do you know he does?”
“Because he trusted you enough to send you here and he wants my business back.”
“Why’d he lose it?”
“Why did he tell you he lost it?”
“He said that you wanted Rebecca’s contact information and he couldn’t give it to you.”
Disdain fills his eyes. “There is much more to it than that, and Mark knows it.”
“I’d like to hear.”
“I’m sure you would,” he says, and for the first time I catch a sharpness to his voice that makes me believe he’s capable of cutting flesh and blood with words. “But out of respect for Rebecca, I won’t be sharing more.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be inappropriate.”
I watch the tension slide away from his features, and the steel of seconds before is gone. “Forgive me, Bella. Rebecca is a touchy subject for me. Now, why don’t we walk through the paintings and let me tell you about each?”
My moment for digging for information is lost, but I hope to find another one. We begin moving around the room, and I ask questions and gush over his work. In between my questions,
I answer questions from him as well. “Who’s your favorite Renaissance artist?” “How do you ensure you aren’t buying a fake?”
“What have been the top five bestselling paintings in the last five years?” After a bit, he looks pleased at my answers and our talk turns more casual.
After I have seen that three of his paintings are named after women, I cannot help but comment on the trend. “You must be quite the lady’s man.”
“I’ve been called worse,” he assures me, “and perhaps I am guilty as charged. I guess it depends on who is defining what constitutes a lady’s man.”
The statement strikes me as true beyond its intention. How many of us allow others to define us and thus we become what they want us to be, not what we should be or could be?
We continue to chat about the art and I’ve lost track of time when finally we have finished our tour of his work. “You’re impressively knowledgeable, Bella.”
This time I don’t try to control the curve of my lips. “Glad to hear you think so. I don’t know who drilled me harder about my knowledge of art, you or Mark.”
His eyes narrow. “Does he let you call him Mark?”
I cringe inside at my slip. “Ah, no. Mr. Compton.”
“Of course he doesn’t.” The snideness to his tone is hard to miss. “My friends call me Ricco, Sara, and so shall you.”
“Does this mean you will let me show your work to my client?” I ask hopefully.
“You may show my work. Mark may not. I’ll give you a private commission of twenty-five percent. Mark I will give nothing.”
I blanch and every muscle in my body locks up. He’s using me to get back at Mark for some sin he perceives he’s committed against him. “I can’t do that. I work for him. That wouldn’t be right.”
“Mark is out for Mark. You’ll learn that soon enough or  you’ll end up crushed like everyone else around him. Don’t let that happen, Bella.”
I’m desperate to get this meeting back under control and reach for a way to mend his and Mark’s relationship. “Didn’t you do a charity event with Mark? That was a good thing you did together. What if we started out with something like that again?”
“Rebecca set that up, and I can donate my work for a good cause through many venues. I chose to do it at Allure because Rebecca asked me to.” He changes the subject back to his offer.
“Let me show you how to scout and sell on your own.”
“I appreciate the offer, but—”
“Don’t let him suck you into his world. It’s dangerous and so is he.”
What is it about artists warning me off Mark? “Unless he brings a machete to work,” I joke weakly, “I can handle him.
“Men like Mark do not need machetes to dice your independence and self-respect. They mind-f*ck you.”
No matter how true his claim might ring, I feel it like a slap, and I barely stop myself from taking a step backward. “I should go, but please know that I love your work. I mean that. I’d be honored to represent it.”
“And you can. You and you alone.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
He studies me for several tense seconds and waves me forward. “Very well. I’ll show you to the door and let you go home and think on this.”