PROMISED TO HIM
CHAPTER 33
MAYIBUYE SMITH
The Dubai sun had already started to sink, melting the skyline into gold. Everything shimmered — the buildings, the water, even the air itself. And for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t looking over my shoulder.
Roy and I walked side by side through the Marina, matching like we’d planned it — grey sweatpants, white T-shirts, and sneakers. The wind was soft, the city alive, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
It felt unreal. Like we weren’t Roy and Mayi, the couple always tangled in chaos and control. We were just two people trying to breathe again.
We passed a little street stand that sold ice cream. The smell of waffle cones hit me instantly.
“Ooh!” I stopped, tugging on his hand. “Let’s get some!”
He didn’t even look at the stand. “No.”
I frowned. “No?”
He kept walking. “Ice cream is for weaklings.”
I froze. “Excuse me?”
He finally looked at me, completely serious. “Sugar, dairy, and air. Nothing about that says power.”
I stared at him, completely offended. “It says happiness, Roy. You should try it sometime.”
He gave a half-smirk. “I already have you. That’s enough chaos and sugar for one life.”
I gaped. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
“Fine.” I crossed my arms dramatically. “I’ll just eat mine alone.”
He kept walking. “Go ahead.”
So I did. I marched up to the vendor, bought the biggest strawberry cone they had, and took the slowest, most exaggerated lick I could manage while making sure Roy saw every bit of it.
When I turned, he was leaning against the car, arms crossed, watching me with that look — half irritation, half amusement.
“What?” I said sweetly. “Does my weakness bother you?”
He rolled his eyes, walked up, and without warning, leaned in — his lips barely brushing the tip of the cone as he took a small bite.
I blinked. “You—”
He wiped his mouth casually. “Not bad…no must find out about this”
I stared at him, trying not to laugh. “You said—”
“I changed my mind.” He opened the car door. “Now get in before I start regretting come here with you .”
The drive back was quiet, the kind of quiet that said too much. Every time I looked at him, his hand would twitch slightly on the steering wheel, like he wanted to reach for mine but wouldn’t let himself.
When we finally pulled into the villa, I thought the day was done. But as soon as I stepped out of the car, he said, “Go get dressed. We’re going out for dinner.”
I turned, surprised. “Wait—now?”
He gave me that cool, unreadable stare. “Yes, now.”
“But we just—”
“Don’t argue,” he said, already walking inside. “You’ll lose.”
Back upstairs, I stared at the open suitcase for nearly ten minutes. “Simple but classy,” he’d said. Easy for him — every shirt he owned looked like it belonged in a luxury magazine spread.
After changing outfits five times, I finally settled on a satin champagne-colored dress. Soft. Elegant. Something that didn’t scream “trying too hard.” I slipped on gold sandals, brushed out my curls, and gave myself one last nervous look in the mirror.
When I came out, Roy was already ready. Grey tailored pants, a white shirt with the top two buttons undone, watch glinting under the light. He looked effortlessly powerful.
He glanced up once, eyes scanning me from head to toe — slowly, quietly.
“Good,” he said finally. “Let’s go.”
“Just ‘good’?” I asked, pretending to be offended.
He closed the distance between us, his voice dropping low.
“If I said what I was really thinking, we’d never leave this room.”
And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.
The restaurant he took me to was breathtaking. A rooftop view of the city, floor-to-ceiling glass walls, soft jazz playing in the background, and candlelight everywhere.
“This place is beautiful,” I said quietly, running my hand over the tablecloth.
He nodded.
I smiled faintly.
He looked at me, eyes unreadable. “You’d be surprised how much noise a man can have in his head.”
Before I could respond, someone called his name.
“Roy?”
The voice was soft, feminine
We both turned.
A tall woman with dark hair and red lips stood a few steps away, holding a champagne glass and wearing confidence like perfume.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she said with a slow smile.
“Clara,” Roy said, his tone suddenly colder.
She moved closer, eyes flicking briefly to me before returning to him. “You still look the same. Dangerous, quiet, a little too handsome for your own good.”
I blinked. Who was this woman?
“And this must be—” she gestured vaguely at me.
“His wife,” I said before she could finish. “Mayibuye.”
Her lips curved. “Wife?” she echoed, like she was tasting the word. “Well, that’s new.”
I leaned back in my chair. “A lot of things about him are new.”
Roy gave me that look — the one that silently said don’t start.
But I was already started.
Clara laughed lightly. “Still fiery. You have a type, Roy.”
He didn’t respond. His jaw flexed.
Then she touched his arm — casually, but too comfortably. “You still have my number, right?”
That was it.
“I don’t think he does,” I said, smiling tightly. “I made him delete all unnecessary contacts.”
She blinked, obviously taken aback. “Unnecessary?”
“Mm,” I said, sipping my water. “You know, things that don’t fit into his married life.”
Roy’s lips twitched — not quite a smile, but not disapproval either. Clara, on the other hand, looked like she’d swallowed her pride.
“Well,” she said finally, straightening, “enjoy your evening.”
She walked away with the grace of someone who refused to lose, even when she already had.
The silence that followed was thick.
“You done?” Roy asked after a moment, voice low.
I crossed my arms. “With what?”
“Your performance.”
“I wasn’t performing.”
He leaned back, eyes glinting. “You were jealous.”
“I was protective,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
He smirked faintly. “Protective? You looked like you were ready to throw your drink at her.”
I stared at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
He reached across the table, his thumb brushing my hand.
“I’m enjoying that you care enough to fight for me.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” he said softly
And just like that, my anger dissolved — replaced by that dangerous warmth he always managed to stir inside me.
After dinner, as we walked out to the car, I glanced up at the night sky. Dubai glittered beneath us, endless and bright.
“Roy?” I said quietly.
He glanced at me. “Hmm?”
“Maybe ice cream isn’t just for weaklings.”
He smiled faintly, unlocking the car. “Maybe not. But it’s definitely for troublemakers.”
I grinned. “Good thing you married one, then.”
He laughed softly, opening the car door for me. “Exactly why I’m in trouble.”
And as the city lights reflected in the windows while we drove back, I couldn’t help but think