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There's a silence, and I wonder how long it can last. As I'm thinking of what I can say next, he clears his throat and continues, “I understand that you want to talk about Hope For Kids, but have you considered the other side of the coin?” His eyes flash with what I can only describe as arrogance as he speaks in a commanding voice.
“What other side?” I ask hesitantly, considering my choice of words carefully.
He leans back in his chair and starts ticking off on his fingers, “You got the notion that money should be used for good causes, but how is it supposed to be distributed? Who will ensure that the funds are not squandered away?" The list goes on. He pauses briefly before continuing in a dismissive tone, "It's easy to just talk about charity without thinking through all these implications." He continues with his thoughts, but I instead find myself zoning out, enthralled by his persona.
The waiter comes and puts down our food. Adrian, while talking, places my plate in front of me, cuts some of his steak, and puts it on my plate. I don’t know why, but that gesture seems so kind, a symbol of how easy it is for him to be generous. I know I should be listening, but all I can bring myself to do is be captivated by his voice. Yes, he's 19 years older than me, but there's something about him that makes me think age is just a number. I always thought that the older man cliché was just that - a cliché, and now I am being forced to have a reckoning with my very own belief system.
Ade’s words still hang in the air, and I feel his eyes on me as he believes I am contemplating them. Little does he know I'm contemplating something else entirely.Does he look this good under that shirt of his?
“So what do you think?” he asks, bringing me out of my distracted thoughts.
“I understand what you’re saying,” I finally reply. “But I know this charity like the back of my hand, and I would put my own money where my words are ... if I had enough.”
Ade smiles at my response and takes a sip of his champagne before continuing, “Big words, Olivia."
I shrug like I'm used to having big ideas all the time. As I do, the strap of my dress falls off my left shoulder.
Ade's green eyes lock onto my exposed skin, and a spark of electricity passes through me. I shift in my seat, feeling both embarrassed and aroused at the same time. I pull up the strap.
He takes a deep breath.Does he feel the same way too?He looks away for a moment, then turns back to me, his gaze burning with intensity.
“So, tell me, Olivia," he says softly, "what would you do if you had the money?”
I take a bite off my plate to buy some time and finally answer, "Fund after-school day-care for kids in need. A place where they get access to all the educational resources their parents can't offer."
"Sweet thing isn’t it? Helping kids?"
I look him right in the eye, "Yes, it is."
"And how would you feel if I were to be the one offering that money?"
The question was innocent enough, but there was something in the way he says it - a hidden implication that made my heart race faster. He had been watching me, studying me with his eyes - like he wanted more from this conversation than just charity talk.
"Doesn't matter where the money comes from," I say. "The cause is wonderful. Just last year, over 300 kids benefitted from our ..."
He raises his hand to silence me. I feel a sudden shock go down my spine. I feel anger rising inside of me. How dare he act so arrogant and dominant towards me? I take a deep breath to try and conceal it. He doesn't seem to be aware of my frustration, instead continuing on as if nothing had happened.
"Now if you'll excuse me," he says, pushing back his chair, "I believe we're done with all the charity talk." He looks at the check and puts down some bills.
"No," I say. "The charity will cover this expense from the donor relations department," reaching for the check.
He stops me by placing his hand on mine, not allowing me to move further. I shiver, feeling a sudden heat radiating from his touch. His eyes sparkle with a mysterious glint that I can't explain, and I remain silent, mesmerized by the intensity of our gaze. He slowly releases my hand and stands up again with a smirk on his face.
"I think," he says as he tucks away his wallet and buttons up his jacket, "that I’ve gotten everything I need to get from this conversation.”
I know I shouldn't, but something overcomes me, almost as though I’m possessed. I stand up, silent as a lamb, and follow his lead. Much to my embarrassment, I stumble.
“Are you okay?” Ade asks, instantly by my side, helping me find my balance.
“Just a little too much champagne, I think. Fuck. I can’t drive back like this.”
“Let me drive you home.” I can tell Ade means it, but I don’t want to accept his offer.
He takes a deep breath, seemingly reading my mind, “You can stay here - at the hotel opposite the road until you sober down. You can have breakfast with me tomorrow morning if you’d like. I’ve got a room there too.” His voice is gentle and sincere.
For whatever reason, I find myself agreeing without much thought. Ade walks me across the street to the hotel where he helps me check into a single room for the night. As we stand in the lobby, an uncomfortable moment of silence hangs between us. Should he come with me? Should I invite him up?
“Since I’m already drunk,” I say. “Why don’t we just have another?”
