“An amateur artist.”

“Amateur? What does that mean? Either you’re an artist or you’re not.”

“You know exactly what it means. I don’t make any money as an artist, and I don’t paint full-time.”

“Semantics. Do you think I paint for money?”

I said nothing.

He continued. “For that matter, do you think anyone buys my work for any reason other than I’m a Wolfe?”

“That’s ridiculous. Your work has value beyond your name.”

“Yes. It does. To me. To you. Maybe to others. But I don’t do it for the money.”

“Well, you don’t need to. You already have a ton of money.”

He laughed then. “You’re being purposely obstinate. You know exactly what I mean.”

I got indignant then. “I don’t buy it, Roy. You can’t be an artist just because you say you are.”

“Why not?”

I opened my mouth but then realized I had no answer.

He laughed again. “You are absolutely adorable.”

“You tell me, then,” I said, not willing to let this drop. “What makes an artist?”

“Depends on your definition of artist.”

Now he was being ridiculously abstract. “What’s yours?”

“I find art in almost everything. Even my brother Reid, who has taken the running of our business to an art form. Even my father, who, though he was an asshole of the highest magnitude, couldn’t have made billions without knowing the art of negotiation and dealing.”

“Everything’s an art to you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“What exactly is my art, then? Dressing up in uncomfortable clothing and doing someone else’s bidding?”

“You’re obviously good at what you do, or Lacey wouldn’t have brought you with her.”

“What I do is hardly art.”

“I say it is,” he laughed. “But we’ve gotten badly off the subject. Which I think was your intention. You’re certainly willing to go to a lot of trouble just to get out of telling me what you see when you look at me.”

I joined in his laughter then. “Nothing gets by you.”

“Nothing does,” he agreed. “Sometimes that’s a curse. Trust me.”

His words were enigmatic, and I wasn’t sure what to say. I was certain he didn’t want to elaborate, so finally I said, “You’re the most amazing-looking man I’ve ever seen.”

8

Roy

I’d made her uncomfortable, which pleased me. Why? I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t meant to mention that my gift of observation could sometimes be a curse.

I couldn’t be an artist without such an acute sense, but truly, it had been a curse from time to time. One time in particular, which I didn’t want to think about now. Not when I had a luscious woman in my apartment. I opened my mouth to ask her to elaborate on what she found amazing about my looks, when my intercom buzzed.