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Mango A Romantic Fiction Novel Provided by PneumaSender FREE to Read Online
Chapter 2 He went home and dialed her number—the one-day-only contact number she had given him the night before. “Talk about tight deadlines…” he murmured as the phone paused between rings. “I heard that,” she said, and once again, he was gripped by that indefinable feeling that all was right with the world. She was overwhelming him, and he liked it. “Well, you give me a number that will work for just one day, and then you leave. What would you call that?” She chuckled, a gruff, derisive sound that sent blood rushing through his veins in a fiery, exciting current. He had not realized such things could happen to a man his age, but he was absolutely charmed by this woman’s idiosyncrasies. After settling the details of their date—or rather, agreeing to all her terms, he hung up the phone and turned to the mirror. His jaw line was still sharp, his eyes piercing, and his salt-and-pepper razor stubble looked good and minimized wrinkle lines. All in all, he made a striking impression on everyone who met him for the first time. His figure was good, also. At 5’11”, he wasn’t remarkably tall, but his clothes hung well on his fit frame, masking a body that still looked good at 60 years of age. “Thank God you are a handsome man, or you’d be sunk.” Then, swallowing his foolish pride, he admitted the truth to himself. “It’s more likely your bankroll, rather than your debonair exterior that won you this chance. Thank the Lord that you were hard at work when other men were wooing, so that you could be ready now for this date.” It felt so fated. He knew, just knew that all his life had led to this moment. As a young man, Hawthorne had hated his name. When he introduced himself, there were always raised eyebrows, amused stares, and an occasional nasty comment. While once or twice, he had managed to get a date because of his unique name, they ended badly when they discovered a driven, ambitious man in place of the melancholy, tormented soul they had expected him to be. Seclusion with a pad and pen was not his style. Rather, he preferred to be in a crowd, pushing ahead and showing off his superior strength and intellect. After repeated experiences like these, he learned to distrust the coquettish eyes and smiles of women, choosing instead to work hard to achieve his professional goals, and to leave girls for some other schmuck. As a middle aged man, he had come to like his name. Hawthorne Towers proved to be an impressive trademark, even without any special pronunciation—alternate pronunciations had been all the rage for a while. The name itself was the logo, and as his reputation grew, so did the world’s appreciation of his name. In fact, as the years progressed, few dared to cross him. Hawthorne had grown into a savvy, powerful man with great riches and excellent business sense. Then, they said, he had given it all up for love of God. “In cliché fashion, business magnate, Hawthorne, of Hawthorne Towers, has begun donating all of the proceeds from his companies to charity. Keeping a measly $4 million, compared to the billions he stands to earn just this year, Hawthorne is illustrating that as one nears the end of life, the pull towards a higher power is indeed often overwhelming.” Another anchor had turned her cynical smile in the direction of the first speaker and said, “So, do you think he’s trying to atone for any broken backs he might have climbed to get where he is today?” Shaking his head, the reporter calmly repeated what he had been told after months of investigation. “Apparently, Hawthorne has always lived by the biblical standards he embraced in his childhood, and it seems that no one has ever been able to speak a negative word about either his business practices or his lifestyle. And get this—he’s celibate.” The reporter had spoken this last word as if it were a foreign concept—or rather, further proof that he was a nut. Hawthorne only laughed as he heard them. What could one do? The press had been asking about his sex life for years, and he finally gave them what they wanted. It was a decent witness for Christ, since it could be substantiated by years of honest, clean living. He felt as if he had done a good thing by opening himself up like that. However, twenty years later, he was to find reason to regret that revelation.
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