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"Yes, of course."
"Good. Would you mind signing another non-disclosure agreement specifically to that effect?"
"For coffee?"
"It will cover our entire future relationship. You can have a copy of it."
You have to be a young woman in love with a highly-desirable man to imagine the thrill that the words "entire future relationship" give Angie.
Some part of her mind warns that she should not get in the habit of lightly signing these documents. She shouldn't just agree to things she doesn't understand. She should at least ask why she needs an NDA just for coffee.
Maybe she should even refuse to sign it.
"Yes," she says.
"Yes, you would mind? Or yes, you will sign the NDA?"
"Yes, I will sign it," she smiles.
"Good. This is the standard form for the women I date."
Her heart nearly leaps out of her chest and through the window into the Hudson at hearing the word "date."
Frightened, reluctant, yet flattered and absolutely giddy with infatuation, Angie signs the document with a long, thick fountain pen and looks up to find him devouring her with his eyes.
— — — — — — / — — — — — — — — —
Chapter Three: Coffee
Shiva leads her to a private elevator of darkly tinted glass overlooking the city— the "dorsal vein" of Black Tower.
"This way we're not interrupted," he says, stepping aside and gesturing for her to enter in front of him. "I hate getting interrupted in elevators."
"Does that happen?"
"Not anymore."
"Because this is just for you?"
"I would be a distraction on the main elevators."
It's the nicest elevator Angie's ever seen, with a marble floor, a chandelier, and a stunning view of Manhattan. As the doors slide shut, Shiva reaches for her hand.
"Is this okay with you?" he asks as Angie's heart begins racing.
She nods.
"Is it really okay, or are you just afraid to say 'no?'"
"It's really okay," she squeaks. "It's better than okay."
"I need you to tell me 'no' when you don't want to do something that I want to do."
"Okay."
"I like you, Angela."
His steady gaze, and the desire in it, frightens and excites her. Unable to endure it, she looks away for a moment, and then, with her face lowered submissively, she looks back up into his eyes, wanting to see his desire again. He smiles and squeezes her hand.
"Why?" she asks.
"Primarily your beauty," he smirks, flashing his eyebrows mischievously, "though I also appreciate your intelligence and goodness."
"Thank you for saving me last night," she says, unable to think of anything else.
"It was my pleasure. Of course you now owe me a lifetime of loyal and devoted service."
"I do?"
His smirk widens and she realizes he was kidding.
"You!" she pretends to scold him, playfully slapping the muscle of his chest.
When the elevator doors open again, a pair of white-gloved waiters bow to them. They step into yet another astonishingly luxurious room, with Central Asian carpets, wooden and leather furniture, stained-glass lamps, chandeliers weeping chains of crystal, windows on one side overlooking the street from perhaps the sixth story, and tall shelves with what looks like a collection of antique books.
It's like a private library, practically Angie's idea of heaven.
He leads her to a table and pulls out a chair for her.
"What would you like?" he asks, sitting down as the white-gloved waiters hold his chair for him. "We have all kinds of tea, coffee, beer, wine, liquor...."
"Can I have tea?"
"Of course. Any particular kind?"
"I don't know. What would you recommend?"
"Do you like green tea?"
"Sure."
"We have some Gyokuro of which I'm inordinately proud," he tells her with the air of a confession.
"Okay," she agrees with no idea what he's said.
"Anything else?"
"I don't think so."
"Gyokuro, then," he tells the waiters, "and a wagashi plate."
When they leave, he looks her over again and smiles.
"Was the photographer your boyfriend?"
"The photographer?"
"From last night. He had a nice camera."
"Oh, no, of course not. My parents say I'm too young to date. He's just a nice guy. He was just showing me around the city."
"A nice guy."
"Well, I thought so until last night. I'm so glad you answered the phone."
"You have to be careful. You can't trust people too easily."
"But I know Josh. I thought he was almost like family."
"That's the point, isn't it? For example, you should not tell people that you're seeing me."
"I shouldn't? Why not?"
"It's dangerous. People get abducted and held for ransom."
Her jaw drops.
"Are you serious?"
"Very serious. If we ever become a serious couple, I will have to get you bodyguards."
"Wow."
There's a lot there. Some part of her mind worries that maybe she's getting in way over her head, another part jumps to trying to imagine her life with bodyguards, but most of her mind is stuck on "if we ever become a serious couple."
She thinks about it while the waiters bring a pot of tea, a timer with over eleven minutes left, two cups, a tray of exotic bite-size snacks, and — to Angie's horror — chopsticks and little two-pronged wooden forks.
She doesn't know how to use chopsticks or how to eat any of this food.
"If you want," he assures her, "you can use the fork for everything."
He will apparently always know what she is thinking.
But since he doesn't make a move for any of the snacks, she doesn't either.
"So how old do your parents think you need to be before they let you date?"
"I don't know."
"I guess you've probably read about my family."
"Yeah, a little."
"So I'd like to hear about yours. It sounds very interesting."
"Not really. My real dad died when I was a baby. I don't remember him. After that, my mom married a man who owned a Christmas tree farm in New Jersey."
"So we have some things in common."
"We do?"
"I also never met my father and I lived with a stepfather."
"Oh, but your father and stepfather were both much richer than mine."
"That's true," he laughs. "My mom picked them well. Tell me about life on a Christmas tree farm."
"There isn't much to tell. We were a pretty normal family except I was homeschooled and then sent to a Catholic girls' school and then to St. George's."
"Sent. Not your choice."
"Not particularly. I'd like to see more of the world, but I guess I have to wait. I don't mean to complain. I'm genuinely grateful to be protected and cared for. But I think I could safely experience a little more of the world than I've been allowed."
"Like Jane Eyre in the attic."
"Yeah. Not that bad, but yeah."
"I saw the copy of your ID that my security people made. You're an adult. You can do what you want."
"You saw a copy of my ID?"
"I wanted to be sure that you're over eighteen. A legal adult."
Something about that doesn't feel right to her — maybe he should have asked her — but something about it flatters her too, so she just goes on without objection.
"Well, as long as I need my parents' money, I'm not truly free."
"That's true. But do you really need their money?"
"Well, are you going to give me any?"
"Then you'd be as dependent on me as you are on them."
(She'd kind of hoped he wouldn't say something like that.)
"Do you mind if I just completely change the subject?" she asks him.
"Certainly not."
"Yesterday you said some beautiful things about faith, hope, and love, and then you said you are committed to pursuing wealth and power. That's been bothering me."
He looks at her a moment, waiting for her to go on, before he realizes that's her whole statement.
"You see a contradiction there."
"Don't you?"
"No, not at all."
"Somehow it feels wrong."
He nods thoughtfully.
"Do you think the pursuit of wealth and power is evil?"
"Maybe? Kind of?" she winces.
"I don't think it is, necessarily." He smiles to show it's okay for her to continue the conversation.
"It depends on how you do it?"
"No. It depends on who does it."
"Who? But what difference does 'who' make?
"When I do it, or when my close allies do it, it's good. When our enemies do it, it's evil."
"Enemies? Allies?"
She shakes her head. He's such a confusing man, with such unexpected ideas.
"That's how I see the world. We're not all on the same side."
"Are we on the same side? You and I?"
"In most ways. Perhaps most important at this time, we're both citizens of the United States, although obviously I benefit more from it than you do. On the other hand, as a black person, my status here is in some ways more tenuous than yours."
"Who are our enemies?"
"That's an excellent question. I don't yet trust you enough to give you a specific answer, so I'll ask you instead. Is there anyone who would be willing to hurt you if they could benefit from it?"
"I guess so," she admits, startled by every part of that response and hurt by some of it. "I don't usually think about that."
"You don't have to. You're protected by an incredibly powerful government. But that begs the question: protected from whom? And why?"
"I guess I'm so naïve," she almost whispers. "I've never thought about anything like this."
"For most people, it's hard to think about. Very unpleasant. Would you like to change the subject?"
"No. I want to understand how you see the world."
He sighs thoughtfully, apparently ordering his thoughts.
"I see myself as part of an almost inconceivably complex coalition of coalitions. We are in competition against other coalitions, and to some extent against other members of our own coalition, for control of the worldly goods that bring us safety and comfort."
"A coalition of coalitions?"
"Nominally, the highest-level coalition of which I am a part is something like 'the Western world' or perhaps 'NATO.' The United States is a coalition within that coalition. I'm a member of the Democratic Party, a coalition within the coalition that is the United States. I'm also a member of the Business Roundtable, another coalition within the United States. And so on. All these coalitions that seek wealth and power for their members, and all their members jostle over how much each of them will get."
"I understand, I guess, but my question was how 'faith, hope, and love' works into that?"
"Religion implies a community, a coalition. For you, that's the Catholic Church. For me, it's the community of Islam, the ummat al-Islam. I would love to be a member of a community with confidence that God is the leader of our coalition."
"But this all sounds a little violent to me. Like maybe you're talking about violence."
"I certainly am."
"Then should Catholics and Muslims be at war?"
"Should we?" he thinks. "I guess not. We're not well organized for it and don't stand to gain much from it. But things were different in the past, and may be different again in the future."
"You mean the Crusades?"
"Sure, although we could probably think of more recent examples. For now, however, Islam and Catholicism seem to be allies in a sometimes violent against secularism. And in that fight, I'm not even sure whose side I'm on yet."
Before she can think of a response to that, the timer goes off with a single "ding."
"Ah!" he smiles, "our tea is ready. Have you ever had Gyokuro?"
"No," she admits.
"You're in for a treat then. But if you don't like it, let me know and we'll get you some regular green tea."
He pours the tea, more yellow than green, into her cup first, and then his. She follows his example, picking up her cup with both hands, raising it to her face, bowing slightly, and then tasting it.
The tea startles her. It's only room temperature, colder than she expected, and far richer and thicker and stronger than any tea she's had before.
"Wow," she blinks. "That's amazing. I didn't know tea could be like this."
"Do you like it?"
"Very much."
"I'm so glad to hear that. Have as much as you like. And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to change the subject."
"Okay."
"Unless you'd rather continue."
"I would, but another time. For now, you've given me more than enough to think about."
"I hope that, when you're ready, you'll tell me what you think about all this."
"I will, if you want, but I'm a little frightened."
"Why?"
"I don't know if I like what you've said, and I don't know if you'll like what I have to say."
He smiles a wide, very happy smile, as if he wanted to show off his gleaming teeth.
"Angela, that's one of the reasons I like you."
"Really?"
"A lot of beautiful young women try to be whatever I want them to be. But you, even though you're somewhat intimidated, and even though you introduced yourself to me by falling down on your way into my office, I can tell that you want to challenge me. You're not just trying to say whatever you think I want to hear."
"That's why you like me?"
"The main reason, of course, is that you are an exceptionally beautiful young woman, which matters a great deal to me, but among exceptionally beautiful young women, that's what makes you stand out."
"Wow, I really appreciate that so much. I... I really like you too."
She looks down, feeling herself blush.
"I'm not sure that we're right for each other, though."
She looks back up with him, stung deeply.
"You're very young, and I'm... darker than you. I'm not talking about race. You're innocent —"
"But I don't want to be so innocent," she interrupts. "I want to know the same things you know."
"I hope you always feel that way," he whispers with some mysterious sadness. "But there's another thing that may be a problem for you. I'm not looking for a girlfriend. I have too many girlfriends."
"Too many?"
"Too many," he affirms. "I don't 'do the girlfriend thing' anymore. I'm looking for a wife."
She looks at him across an ocean of terrifyingly deep and overwhelming desire.
"If you're not ready to consider that," he warns her, "you should probably not see me again. But if you are, I would love to invite you into my world just a little bit. If you decide you like it, maybe I'll invite you further in."
Angie's poor heart is pounding against ribs, her poor brain straining to understand what she is hearing.
He's thinking about marrying her? Already?
But — not just "he" is thinking about marrying her. "He" is Shiva Black, the wealthy, handsome, forbidden fantasy of her adolescence, most eligible bachelor in the world, the love of her life (as she's now been head-over-heels infatuated with him for nearly 24 hours) — "he" — is thinking about marrying her?
Of course a man like Shiva would love and marry someone. Someone — but not her. The idea that he would love a girl like her, it's a fairy tale, a fantasy, a myth.
She cannot imagine herself in the situation she's actually in. She has to get out of it, into the world the way it was a day ago, a world that makes sense to her.
Not his world, where she will need bodyguards and have to worry about being abducted and held for ransom, where tea tastes like this and showers are made of marble and people serve you breakfast and drive you around Manhattan in Rolls-Royces and the Statue of Liberty appears tiny in the distance and sexy secretaries wear lingerie to work.
She knows this is the crisis moment of her young life. She knows she has to tell him "no."
But she's in love, so in love that nothing else could matter.
"Are you sure you're ready to consider that?" he has repeated.
"Yes," she says, looking up at him. "I'm sure. I'm sure I'm ready to consider that."
He smiles at her. They spend a moment looking in each other's eyes, confirming that they both understand what she's agreed to.
"In that case," he says, "are you free to join me at a party next Saturday?"
"Next Saturday?" she asks, trying to remember her plans. She has finals in there somewhere.
"The one eleven days from today."
"Can't I see you sooner than that?"
"You can if you are free to travel. I'll be in Los Angeles, Tokyo, Singapore, Dubai, and Paris."
"That's amazing.... I've never left America."
"I hope we get to travel together soon. Where would you like to go?"
"England, of course. The land of Shakespeare, Chaucer, and of course Hardy. I still can't believe you've given me this beautiful book...."
"We'll try to work it out. Meanwhile, next Saturday?"
"Of course I can be free.... Did you say it was a party?"
"Not a very exciting one, unfortunately. It's the opening of the Medieval Gallery at your school's museum."
"Why would you go to that?"
"I made several donations to it, so I'm one of the guests of honor."
"Oh, I get it. That's why the college has made you a fellow."
"That's one reason."
"I was wondering. I mean, since you're not Catholic...."
"Money has no stink."
"And for you it's just charity. Tax evasion and all that."
"Sure — although I'd prefer the term 'deductions'— but it's also a better relationship with some powerful people in the Catholic Church."
"Why would you want that?"
"As I said, I see us as allies."
"Against secularism?"
"Ah, I did say that, but I suppose I was speaking hypothetically. In actual fact, we are allies against... let's say, socialism."
"Socialism?" Angie gasps. "I didn't even know that was... a threat. I can never predict what you're going to say."
He smiles.
"I only have a few ideas. Eventually I'll be boring."
"No."
"But I'll plan to see you next Saturday."
"Yes. — Oh, wait. This party is at my school?"
"Yes, at the museum."
"Oh, jeez, I didn't think about that. Who will be there? Like, the president of the college?"
"He'd better be. Various bishops, some of the other fellows and board members, maybe even some of your professors."
"Oh, wow, they'll all see me with you...."
"Yes."
"But...," she searches for an objection he might respect, "Is that safe?"
"Safe?"
"Like, you told me not to tell people we're in a relationship because I might get kidnapped."
"I said 'abducted,' of course."
"Right, fine, so...."
"People at events like this know to be discreet."
"Oh, wow, okay. But if my professors are there...."
"It certainly won't hurt your grades."
She blinks at him.
"I... okay, I mean, if you think it's fine...."
"It's fine. What concerns me is whether you have anything suitable to wear."
"Oh, I...."
"This Saturday, four days from now, I'll be out of town, but I'd like to have my driver and one of my assistants pick you up, bring you into the city, and take you shopping."
"Really?"
Her heart leaps, imagining the glamor of stores and brands she hasn't even heard of.
"I'd prefer to pay for everything, if you don't mind."
"Oh, no, I don't mind at all," she laughs.
"Good. I'll put my assistant in touch with you and you two can work out the plans together."
"Okay...."
"And would you like a ride back to your school today? Or do you have your own transportation?"
"A ride?"
"I have a car and a driver to spare. For situations just like this one."
"Oh, I... sure, of course, that would be wonderful...."
"And would you like some of this tea to take with you?"
"It seems like... do I have to leave or something?"
"No, stay as long as you like. But I have, as you put it, an empire to run."
"Oh, of course, I'm sorry, I didn't mean...."
"Relax, Angela," he smiles, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand. "I've enjoyed having tea with you this morning. And I'm pleased that you are willing to consider having a very serious relationship with me."
"Me too," she blushes.
"Did you want some of the Gyokuro?"
