Chapter 8

IQANDA LE GROOTMAN
CHAPTER 8

ZOBUHLE ZWIDE

The ride was smooth, quiet, almost too quiet. The hum of the Dior's engine filled the silence, while my fingers toyed nervously with the little wrapped box on my lap.

I could feel his eyes flick toward me every now and then, watching, waiting. The weight of the box wasn't heavy, but the tension inside me was.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I slid my nail under the wrapping, tearing slowly, my heart thudding louder with each rip.

Inside was a sleek black box. My breath caught.

No ways.

I opened it carefully — and my eyes widened. An iPhone Pro Max. Brand new. Shiny. Still sealed.

I gasped, holding it like it might disappear. "Manqoba… this is—this is too much."

He smirked, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually, like this was nothing. "Too much? For you? Never."

I shook my head, my chest tightening. "You can't just buy me things like this. I didn't ask—"

He cut me off, his voice deep, calm but firm. "You didn't have to ask. I told you — I don't chase women. I take care of the one I choose."

The way he said it made my stomach flip. This wasn't just a gift. It was a statement. A claim.

"Manqoba," I whispered, "I'm not for sale."

He chuckled softly, his eyes sliding to me before returning to the road. "Zo, if you think this is about buying you… then you don't know me yet. That phone is not a bribe. It's a tool. From now on, i will get you on the phone when i need you… Always."

My throat tightened. My heart was fighting with my mind. Everything about this was wrong — too much, too soon, too dangerous. But the warmth that spread through my chest… the security I felt just holding that phone… it was undeniable.

For once, I didn't feel small. I felt seen.

I stared down at the glowing Apple logo on the box, and then at him. He looked straight ahead, confident, like he'd already won.

And maybe,just maybe, he had.

I just hugged him I needed the hug vele I'm not into him plus I'm not a gold digger