A man worth knowing🤔🤔

💋Chapter Four💋

In normal circumstances, the
exquisite Renais-sance architecture
would have intimidated her, but
Mandisa was too distracted to notice
her surroundings as she walked into
the gold-lit lobby of the Michelangelo
Towers.
Her decision made, there was no
going back.
The opulence of the central atrium
with its cathedral-high roof was
breathtaking. The hotel had an
atmosphere of majesty and luxurious
excess. She could smell money in the
air like a discreet perfume; she was
almost seduced by the decadence of
it all.
She gave her prettiest smile at the
front desk, and asked for Themba
Dlane.
The girl behind the desk flashed a
smile. ‘Ah, that would be the
Presidential Suite.’
‘Of course.’ Mandi’s tone was
soft and acid. There was a short,
quiet call to his suite.
‘Mr Dlane says to go up.’
The elevator was sleek and silent as
it spirited her to the top floor. In a
few minutes, she was standing in
front of his door. It was opened
before she could knock.
Dark and powerful, Themba’s body
filled the frame. He was still in his
bespoke New York powersuit, but
without his hand-tooled Italian
shoes. He stood in his black socks,
his silk grey tie pulled loose.
His smile was white and cold. ‘It
didn’t take you long to change your
mind.’
Mandi stared at him. A cool wordless
challenge. With exaggerated
courtesy, he stepped back and
swung his arm in a circle.
‘Come in.’
She stepped inside, taking in the
marble floors and gilt-capped
columns, the wonderful art on the
wall. The massive chandelier in the
lounge spread a soft light, like gold
dust, over the opulent furnishings.
She heard the door click shut; she
shivered.
‘Does it impress you?’ He stood
behind her, his voice in her ear.
Walking further into the lounge, she
stopped and turned around. Her eyes
found his face again. She tossed her
purse on a chair, and waited.
‘Wealth and status. It can buy a lot
of things.’ It was obvious Themba
was in a bitter and black mood. ‘It
can even buy you. You’re willing to
offer your body for a taste of it,
aren’t you?’
Through an archway, she glimpsed
the bedroom, a massive bed backed
by an ornate wooden headboard. Fear
flared through her body. She bit
down on her back teeth to control it.
‘You forget that money never meant
that much to me when we dated,’
she said. ‘This lifestyle doesn’t
impress me. I have my own reasons
for accepting your proposal.’
‘Are you going to tell me what they
are?’
‘No.’
His mouth twisted. ‘OK. We’ll play
it mysterious. For now.’
Themba took two steps down,
following her into the lounge. On a
low marble table, a bottle of
champagne cooled in a silver ice
bucket. Two champagne flutes rested
alongside it.
‘Can I offer you a glass?’ Themba
said. ‘It’s imported.French.
Expensive.’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Try it ...’ He poured two glasses
to the brim. ‘It’ll set the mood.’
He handed her a glass.
She sipped. ‘It’s a bit too rich for
my taste. Too dry, too bitter.’ She
replaced it on the table.
‘You’ll learn to like it,’ he said.
‘I have no intention of being
seduced, Themba,’ she said. ‘This
is business.’
‘The business of sex?’
‘Yes.’
For a moment, there was a flash of
surprise in his face, but she also
glimpsed the wary admiration for her
pride simmering in his night-dark
eyes.
‘I will give you want you want
tonight,’ she said, ‘but it will the
first and last night you ever spend
with me. Those are my terms of this
bargain. Do you agree?’
Mandi was amazed at how calmly the
words slid from her tongue. She was
grateful he couldn’t hear the dull
thump of her heart.
‘You’re a cool negotiator, Mandisa
Mbatha.’
‘It’s called self-preservation,’
she said. She took
a deep breath. ‘Do you have
condoms?’
‘You want to really play it safe?’
he mocked.
‘Absolutely.’
‘OK, Mandi. You want to be in
control. Fine.’
He crossed the space between them.
Standing in front on her, he touched
his cold champagne glass against her
cheek. She started to pull back, but
his hand swooped to her neck,
holding her still in a powerful grip.
‘Just remember, once I have you
under me, while I’m taking your
mouth with mine, when my hands
make your body shiver and twist –’
his warm lips found the cool spot
he’d left by the glass, ‘you’ll
lose all control.’
‘Never.’ This time, she didn’t pull
back, but she was confused by the
sensations pooling in her stomach.
Sudden heat. Sudden desire.
‘Oh, yes,’ he whispered. ‘You’ll
want me. You’ll beg me to make love
to you.’
And sudden disgust!
‘I will never see you as the man I
once fell in love with,’ she said.
‘Maybe this is a fitting farewell to
our relationship.’
‘What do you mean?’
She moved her head, her lips against
his cheek, and involuntarily her mouth
planted its own soft imprint on his
taut jaw.
‘You see, I know what kind of man
you are. I know that loving you
would’ve been a mistake.’
‘We all make mistakes.’ His hands
slid down her arms, encircling her
waist, pulling her closer. ‘And one
night is all I need to get you out of
my system, pretty one.’
His hot, hard arousal pressed against
her and the fear intensified in her
body.
‘Put your hand on my chest,’ he
ordered.
‘Themba ...’
‘Do it! ’
Nervously, her palm flattened against
his body. Through his thin shirt, she
felt solid muscle and heat and the
hammering of his heart.
‘You hear that? That’s what you
do to me, Mandi. That’s how you
make my body react.’
She swallowed. ‘I thought you
didn’t feel anything for me.’
‘Believe me, I feel things for you,’
he said. ‘You always made me
excited, Mandi.’
She lifted her face. ‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ His fingers cupped her chin.
‘You made me excited, angry,
happy, confused, frustrated.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘Take off my shirt.’ His voice was
ragged with lust. ‘I don’t want to
waste another minute!’
Her hands were shaking so badly she
fumbled with the top button, unable
to free it.
His hand covered hers, stopping her.
‘What is it?’‘I ... I’m nervous.’
Searching dusky eyes slid to her
face. ‘Have you never undressed a
man before?’
‘No.’
‘Then let me undress you –’
‘Shouldn’t we go to the bed –?’
‘No,’ he said, firmly. ‘Here.
Now.’
Briskly, he unbuttoned his shirt,
shucking it from his broad shoulders.
He tossed it aside. His dark torso
gleamed in the light; smooth and
packed with dense muscle.
She swallowed. He must spend hours
in the gym; his body was perfect. The
swell of his
powerful chest tapered down to a
stomach cut with ruthless definition
and a narrow waist. She could smell
his cologne more powerfully, his
warm skin, his arousal.
‘I want to see the gold light spill on
your beautiful skin,’ he said, taking
off her yellow bolero and tossing it
to the ground. ‘I want to see the
shadow between your breasts, see
your eyes grow darker with desire.’
Themba’s warm hands claimed her
body. His long, dark fingers moulded
the chocolate silk of her top to the
rounded fullness of her breasts,
touching, teasing, tantalising. Her
nipples pulled into hot, hard points.
Pleasure pulsed into every limb of
her petite frame. Her whole body
trembled. Her arms felt limp, useless.
Her knees threatened to give way
under her. A sense of melting,
melting away, engulfed her. The
sensations were all new and intensely
bewildering.
‘Look at me,’ he said.
She couldn’t! She couldn’t let him
see the fear and emotion and the
arousal in her eyes.
With a muttered curse, Themba
pushed her back. ‘Tell me one thing,
Mandi,’ he demanded. ‘Are you
still a virgin?’
His blunt question wasn’t what
she’d expected.
What would Themba do when he
discovered that there had been no
other man in her life, her heart – or
her bed – since their painful parting
all those years ago?
Rough and impatient, Themba gripped
her chin. He jerked her head up,
forcing their eyes to meet in a
moment of truth.
‘You’ve never made love?’ The
jagged question pierced her soul.
Humiliation weakened her voice.
‘Does it matter?’
Reflexively, he stepped back, as his
shocked voice rang out in the elegant
suite of the hotel.
‘What the – what have I done?’
Her face burned. ‘I don’t want to
stop. I don’t care. I still want
you.’
He wasn’t listening to her. ‘What
have I done? What have I done? ’
She tried to touch him, but he jerked
away. He moved to the window,
retreating behind a silent wall of
emotions, cold as stone.
‘Themba –’
Swivelling around, he turned to face
the Johannesburg skyline, glittering
like a million tiny gold little fires in
the night. The backdrop silhouetted
his stiff shoulders, the muscles of
his back rippling in the light.
Mandi came up behind him. Taking a
breath, she laid her shaking hand on
his hot, hard shoulder.
‘Themba?’
‘Don’t.’ He shrugged away her
hand.
Softly, she said, ‘I want to make
love with you, Themba.’
Throwing back his head, he emitted a
harsh bark of laughter. ‘You’re
desperate, aren’t you?’
‘Don’t say things like that,
Themba. Don’t make it cheap!’
He turned to her. ‘It’s time you
left.’
She bit back a sob. ‘Let’s talk
about this.’
Brushing past her, he snatched up
his glass of champagne. He drained it
in one long gulp.
‘There’s nothing to talk about. I
like my women sophisticated, able to
give me pleasure. Why the hell should
I waste time on an inexperienced girl
like you?’
The ache pushed up through her
throat; she fought back the tears.
‘You don’t mean that.’
On impulse, she rushed to him,
flinging her arms around his neck,
pushing her lips against his
unresponsive lips. His fingers
snapped around her wrists,
untangling her embrace.
He pushed her away. ‘Go now!’
‘Themba –’
Picking up her purse and her jacket,
he handed both items to her. His eyes
sparked with black fire.
‘Leave. Get out of here! ’
She stumbled out the door, choking
back her tears.
At six-thirty the next morning, her
cellphone blinked and bleeped. For a
crazy moment, she thought it would
be Themba. However, with a hollow
thud of her heart, she knew he
didn’t have her contact number. She
couldn’t decide if she
was relieved or disappointed.
She pressed the answer button.
‘’Lo?...’
‘Don’t tell me you’re still in
bed!’ The crackly voice brought a
muffled groan to Mandi’s lips.‘You
there? This reception is way bad.’
‘It’s OK, Nombi.’ She had to
shout to have her sister hear her.
‘How are you? Where are you? –
Where? I can’t hear!’
Nombi must have moved to a clearer
spot, because suddenly the reception
was crystal clear. ‘Brazil. For a
shoot.’
‘Sounds fabulous. Sounds sunny.’
‘How is Jozi?’
‘Cold,’ she replied. Cold and
lonely, she thought.
‘You sound weird,’ Nombi said.
‘Do I?’ Mandi checked her beside
clock. She suppressed a groan.
There’d be just enough time for a
shower before going to the boutique.
‘A late night?’ Her sister
persisted. ‘Too much to drink?’
‘Yes to the first, no to the
second,’ she sighed. ‘I’m just
tired, that’s all, sisi.’
She’d have to get to the boutique.
The accountant had delivered the
financial records yesterday. She’d
have to pore over every single one
and assess the damage.
‘You should do yoga. I do. It keeps
me infabulous shape. You should see how
my posture has improved. All the
designers say I have the best
walk.’
‘That’s good to know,’ Mandi
said dryly. She’d never met anyone
as self-absorbed as her younger
sister.
‘Vitamin-enriched mineral water is
another thing you must get,’ Nombi
continued. ‘I have so much more
energy. I can party ‘til two in the
morning and still look stunning the
next day!’
‘Look, I have to get going, Nombi. I
have to get to the boutique soon.’
‘So sorry for keeping you,’ Nombi
drawled sarcastically. ‘Just wanted
you to know I’ll be in Jo’burg
early next month. We can catch up!’
‘That’ll be great,’ Mandi lied.
‘I was hoping I could crash at your
place for a few days. I don’t feel
like a hotel.’
Mandi bit her lip. The last thing she
felt like was her vain sister crashing
at her place, complicating her life.
Nombi’s voice grew shrill. ‘You
there?’
‘Yes, just lost signal for a
moment,’ Mandi lied again. ‘I
wouldn’t have it any other way.’
‘I must dash, the photographer’s
ready to shoot ...’
After the call, Mandi jumped into a
hot shower. She used half a bottle of
her special papaya body treatment,
but it didn’t make her feel better.
She still felt exhausted, an unusual
feeling for her.
Mandi decided to dress down for
work; she planned to spend the day
in the studio going over admin. She
dressed in a pair of low-cut black
jeans and her fun yellow floral
sneakers. She teamed them with a
man’s long-sleeved shirt in a soft
butter colour. Unbuttoning the top
few buttons, she put on ropes of big
plastic pearls. She finished the look
with a grey fedora hat.
A look in the mirror told her she’d
got the look down just right. She felt
better. Good fashion always put a
smile on her face.
‘All work and no play ... makes Miss
Boss a borrinnng girl!’
The trilling voice filled Mandi’s
small studio at the back of Midnight
Rose. She could smell the expensive
French cologne from where she sat.
With a start, Mandi looked up. She
hadn’t noticed the time flying by,
her head buried deep in the
accountant’s messy pile of
documents.
Andrew Morena, her front of shop
manager, stood in the doorway,
grinning. Today he was wearing a red
waistcoat with yellow harem
trousers, pure 80s kitsch, but
somehow he pulled it off with
panache. He was as gay as gay could
be. Everyone called him ‘Miss
Morena’, especially on the days he
wore an alice-band trimmed with
diamanté.
He didn’t mind. In fact, he loved
the attention.
Mandi loved him for being so out and
proud. And so outrageous. And
supremely talented. He helped to
make her designs pop, come to life.
‘We girls are doing a total feast for
lunch,’ he said. ‘We’re all
breaking our diets. Donuts, ice-cream
and soda.’
‘But you’re always watching your
figure,’ Mandi chided.
‘Tsk-tsk !’ He waved a hand.
‘Anorexia is soooo last year, dah-
ling. What can we get you?’
‘Not hungry.’
‘You must eat. You simply can’t
survive on coffee alone.’
Just the thought of the predicament
she faced took her appetite away.
Besides Andrew, she had two shop
assistants to pay at the end of the
month. Not to mention her small
complement of factory staff and her
accountant. She shook her head,
tamping down the fear.
Andrew sighed dramatically. ‘Suit
yourself!’
She bent her head back to work. A
few minutes passed and then Andrew
rushed back into the studio.
Mandi gave a tired smile. ‘OK!
Maybe just one donut!’
She did need to eat if she wanted to
keep her strength up.
‘Did you order lunch from Sandwich
Hunks?’ Andrew rolled his eyes,
showing the whites behind his irises.
‘’Cause there’s a double
handsome-on-brown sandwich with a
side order of sexy-as-hell here to see
you!’
She frowned. ‘Who?’
‘He didn’t give a name, but he’s
delicious. Capital D, honey!’
Themba didn’t wait to be invited
into the studio, simply sliding past
Andrew with an easy grace and
assured confidence. At once he
looked comfortable in her space.
The studio was small, but modern
and comfortable. A large leather
couch against one wall, a design
table, a dresser’s dummy, fashion
prints on the walls. A skylight of
artificial light lent brightness to the
room.
‘So, this is where it all happens.’
He was wearing a well-cut business
suit with blue pinstripes, teamed
with a crisp white shirt and no tie.
Black aviator sunglasses curved
around his face. She had to agree
with Andrew. He looked
devastatingly handsome; sexy,
young, dynamic.
She waved her hand at Andrew.
‘Thanks, Andy. You can leave.’
‘Sweetheart, you sure you going to
be OK here alone with –’
‘Themba.’ Her ex-boyfriend
flashed a deadly smile. ‘Themba
Dlane. Now you heard the boss.
You’re excused.’
With a huff, Miss Morena swept out
the room.
Mandi narrowed her eyes. ‘You’ve
just upset the one person I can’t
do without at the boutique.’
Themba looked unapologetic.
Slowly, Mandi stood up. ‘I thought
you were going back to Cape Town
today.’
‘I couldn’t leave without seeing
you.’
Her head felt like it was filled with
helium. ‘Why?’
Themba snapped off his sunglasses.
His dark eyes glimmered as he looked
at her.
‘I wanted to apologise. For last
night. For acting like an idiot.’
Surprised enough to see him standing
in front of her, she now couldn’t
think of anything to say. Looking at
him, so powerful, sexy and rich, it
wasn’t any wonder he was up to his
eyeballs in slinky, sex-crazed girls.
It just reminded her how far apart
they’d grown; how naive she’d
been last night.‘That’s OK,’ she said. ‘My
behaviour was foolish, too.’
‘No,’ he snapped. ‘I was the
fool, Mandi. I didn’t treat you well.
I regret the whole mess.’
She said, ‘Shall we call a truce?
Forget the whole thing?’
‘Let’s do that.’ With his hands
on his hips, he surveyed her studio.
‘Let’s start again.’
‘That sounds good.’
‘Why don’t you show me around
this wonderful place?’
She licked her lips nervously, tasting
cherry
gloss. ‘Don’t you have to go?’
‘I have time.’
Taking a deep breath, she said,
‘I’d love to.’
Mandi showed him around the front
shop of Midnight Rose, aware that
Andrew and the girls’ eyes followed
them everywhere. Andrew’s stare
was acid, but even his tongue was
tamed by Themba’s authoritative
presence.
Pulling items from hangers or
pointing to the display mannequins,
she explained her design philosophy,
more to keep talking and hide her
nervousness than anything else.
‘Andrew calls it my culture clash,’
she babbled on. ‘I suppose he’s
right. I take traditional ethnic
patterns – Xhosa, Swazi, Ndebele,
Sotho – and create a fusion with
dramatic new styles. You see? When
you add great chunky accessories
and headgear, the whole outfit just
pops, it looks fresh.’
Themba’s stare was intense. ‘Your
passion shines through, Mandisa.
I’m impressed with your work, your
commitment, your vision. I mean, I
don’t know that much about
fashion, but these are ... wow ,
amazing.’
Heat flared into her cheeks. ‘Thank
you.’
‘You have a talent,’ he said,
lowering his voice. ‘I can’t believe
you’re about to lose the
business.’
She stiffened. ‘Thanks for reminding
me.’
‘I didn’t mean it that way –’
‘I have a lot of work to do, Themba,
but I can offer you a quick coffee.
My studio has a percolator.’
He followed her into the studio. She
busied herself with the filter coffee,
the cups, filling the tiny milk jug.
His voice came from behind her. ‘I
want to help you –’
Mandi spun around, hands clenched
at her sides. ‘I don’t want your
money –’
Angry pride spiked in her blood. His
eyes found hers, intense and black.
‘I wasn’t going to offer you
money,’ he said patiently. ‘I
realise now that was wrong. I was
just going to remind you of
something.’
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
‘What?’
‘The Mandisa Mbatha I knew
wouldn’t give up on her dreams, no
matter what. She’d find a way
to make it work. She was clever,
creative, smart.’
‘It’s not that easy, Themba.’
‘Trust me.’ He took her hands in
both of his. ‘You’ll get yourself
out of this mess.’
‘Thanks.’ Her heart squeezed. ‘I
needed to hear that.’
‘However, I understand business
may not be your strong point.’ His
grin took the sting out of
his accurate observation. ‘I’d like
to offer to look over your financial
records. That’s my strong point.’
‘You would?’
‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘No strings
attached.’
Mandi smiled in disbelief. ‘You’d
do that for me?’
Squeezing her hands, he said:
‘Anything to see you smile again.
I’ve missed it. I’ve missed seeing
those sweet, pretty dimples in your
cheeks. The way your eyes light
up.’
Shyness overwhelmed her. She felt
flushed, happy. For a moment she
saw a flash of the man she once fell
in love with.
‘Why don’t we have dinner
tonight?’ he asked. ‘I can
postpone my flight for another day.
We can discuss the books.’
She hesitated, trying to remember
that he was just making amends. To
put the past behind
them, be friends. He wasn’t asking
her for a date. It would be crazy to
think he would be interested in her
still.
‘I don’t think that will be a good
idea.’
‘OK.’ Themba shrugged. ‘I’ll
have my report back on your books in
by tomorrow. I’ll send it by
courier.’
‘I appreciate it.’
Themba released her hands, his palm
sliding against her cheek.
‘I didn’t behave well last night,
Mandi,’ he said. ‘But know this. I
acted out of restraint. If you’d
stayed a minute longer in that hotel
suite, I would not have been able to
help myself. I would’ve made love
to you.’
She swallowed. ‘You – you weren’t
angry at me? You didn’t mean –
what you said?’
‘Never,’ he sighed. ‘I was angry
at myself. I was afraid I’d lose
control. After all, I’m only a man. I
have needs.’
For once, she was grateful for his
honesty; some of the sting of his
rejection was eased.
Behind her, she smelled the rich
fragrance of bubbling coffee.
‘I think our coffee is ready,’ she
smiled, turning around to pour. ‘Do
you still take your coffee black, no
sugar?’
‘That’s perfect,’ he said. ‘Some
things don’t change.’
She angled a smile over her shoulder.
‘That’s good to know.’