IQANDA LE GROOTMAN

IQANDA LE GROOTMAN
CHAPTER 1

ZOBUHLE ZWIDE

I heard my phone ringing — it was like the sound was pulling me out of a dream. I reached for it half-asleep.

"Bitch! Where are you?" Khwezi screamed into my ear.

"Slow down, Khwezi. What's up?"

"Today interns are being selected and you're not here... girl, the meeting is in an hour!"

I shot up from bed, swearing, "Fuck, Sihle." I rushed to the bathroom, threw on my uniform with crocs, and checked my phone — battery about to die.

I sighed and ran out, ready to catch a taxi. At the rank, I passed a group of men — the ones they call amaGrootman. Clean drip, handsome as hell, but all of them strapped with guns showing at their waists.

One of them was in the middle of a story, bragging:
"Ngayishaya nkunzi, ngayishaya yaqhaqhazela ingane. Mxm, anazi lutho nina."

They were dangerous, but damn… cute. The type that gives you a headache every day if you date them.

"Sanibonani, can I get a taxi eya eSandton?" I asked shyly.

One guy caught my eye — no, actually, he stole it. Tall, sharp, dangerous. My eyes dropped to the floor before I even realised. He spoke up he was the one who was bragging
"Skhwili, letha o-key ngambise intokazi."

Next thing, instead of a taxi, a sleek BMW pulled up. My dream car. My heart was beating fast.

He rolled down the window, signalling me to get in. I froze when I saw the gun sitting on his waist. My phone rang again — Khwezi.

"Khwezi, I'm on my way," I answered.

"Girl, I told you. Get yourself a rich man with a car and house. Even if you become umakhwapheni. Don't lose this opportunity!" she screamed, loudspeaker embarrassing me.

I wanted to melt into the seat. The Grootman just glanced at me, amused.

"Mama, ubani igama?" he asked.

No ways I was giving my real name. "Mbalenhle," I lied.

He chuckled. "Your name tag says otherwise."

Shit. I forgot I still had it on. My first L of the day.

"So… lying is your profession or just a hobby?" he teased.

I sighed. "Fine. My name is Zobuhle Zwide."

He smirked, "UManqoba lo. UHlase. UBhovungane. But the ones who matter call me Sthandwa Sami."

I smiled shyly. Hayi khona, this man was dangerous. I hated how weak my heart was acting.uyabo ledlozi engilifunzile ngyalizonda ngoba I'm so weeeeeeeeak!

He asked for my number. I gave it. My phone slipped out of my hand — clumsy. I thanked him quickly, got out, and ran into the hospital.

Of course, I was late. And who was running the meeting? My so-called boyfriend, Sihle. The same man who gave me alcohol last night but was now standing there pretending. Head Surgeon. Dr. Perfect.

"Ms. Zwide," he called out, voice sharp. "Care to explain why you're late?"

"Si—" I started.

"It's Dr. Mthethwa," he cut me off. "Apologise to everyone."

I swallowed my anger, muttered an apology, and rolled my eyes.

So that's how my day started — a gun, a BMW, a lie, and now this fake man acting brand new.mxm

Don't stand in that corner come on in let take a ride!❤️