PROMISED TO HIM
CHAPTER 05
ROY SMITH
Dinner was torture. The kind of torture where everyone smiles politely, but under the table knives are being sharpened.
“Son,” my father’s voice cut across the table, low and firm, commanding as always.
“After the press conference, you’ll be taking Mayi to your house.”
I felt my mother stiffen beside him. She didn’t even wait a second before shooting him a death glare.
“What’s the rush, Tony?” she demanded, her tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “The girl just got here.”
Dad didn’t flinch. He never did. He just sipped his whiskey and set the glass down with precision.
“Lindiwe, I am not discussing this with you,” he said, finality in every syllable.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her knuckles whitening around her knife and fork. My mother never liked being shut down, especially not in front of me.
She turned her attention to Mayi, as if interrogating her would give her back some control.
“So, Mayi…” Her voice was honeyed, but the sharpness lingered beneath.
“What do you do for a living?”
Before Mayi could even open her mouth, Jayden stormed in late, as usual, loud and careless.
“I’m sorry I’m late, family,” he announced, sliding into his seat. He noticed Mayi almost instantly, and his grin widened.
“Ohhh, is this brother’s wife?”
He leaned forward, hand stretched like a showman.
“Welcome to the family. Ma, why the million questions though? Give the poor girl a chance to breathe…he needs that oxygen when dealing with your cold son”
I shot him death stare
The table went dead silent. Even the maids clearing the plates seemed to freeze, waiting for the next explosion.
Later, in my father’s study, things got worse. The room smelled of cigars, old leather, and secrets. He pushed a neat stack of photographs across the desk.
“Here’s the thing,” he said calmly.
“On the date that girl claimed you assaulted her, you will say you were with Mayi. These photos will prove it. Look at the dates behind them.”
I flipped them over. Damn. The old man thought of everything. Clear timestamps, arranged perfectly to match the night. The trap was set, and I was the puppet.
Moments later, the journalists stormed in, cameras flashing. Ndalwenhle, the lead reporter, smiled like a predator.
“Hello, Mr. Smith,” she said smoothly.
“You’ve been alleged in a rape case. Is that true?”
I leaned back, gave her my most arrogant smile.
“Women pray for men like me. Do I look like someone who would force himself on anyone? I don’t rape. That’s not who I am.”
“You’re a man,” she pressed. “Temptations happen.”
“I’m a man with values. And more importantly, I’m a man with a fiancée,” I said, dragging the girl closer.
“The night that girl claims I was with her, I was with my woman.”
And before she could react, I pulled her in and kissed her. Hard. Cameras went wild, flashes nearly blinding us. They wanted a tea? I gave them show.
But beneath the staged kiss, I could feel it—the stiff shock in her body, the tremble in her hands. She had never done this before. And I hated myself a little for noticing.we were now heading to the car
Dad warning followed me as I drove her to my house:
“If you don’t treat her right, Roy, you know the consequences. And if she complains, I’ll forget you’re my son.”
Damn. The old man had me trapped in ways I didn’t even see coming.
MAYIBUYE DUMA
The kiss wouldn’t leave my mind. My lips still tingled with the memory, though I hated to admit it. It was my first kiss, stolen in front of strangers, cameras, and the entire world.
We arrived at his mansion like royalty. Guards flanked the gates, the maids stood in perfect lines. Their voices echoed together:
“Welcome home, Mr. Smith.”
The house was unlike anything I had ever seen. Chandeliers glittered like captured stars, marble floors stretched endlessly, staircases curved with elegance I’d only seen in magazines.
While Roy busied himself with his phone, one of the maids gently touched my arm.
“Miss, please, let me show you to the main bedroom.”
The bedroom was breathtaking—golden drapes, a bed so wide it could fit three families, and polished floors that reflected my nervous footsteps the maid went out
. I couldn’t help myself; I sank into the bed, letting the softness swallow me whole.
The door creaked open. Roy walked in, already unbuttoning his shirt. I jumped up like I’d been caught stealing.
“You’re not sleeping here, right?” I blurted.
He looked at me like I was ridiculous.
“This is my room, Bayi.”
It’s Mayi. Mayibuye to you Mr. Smith.”
“Whatever. I’m sleeping here. End of story.”
“Then I’ll sleep in another room,” I shot back.
“And have the staff gossip about us? You think I want them whispering about how fake this marriage is?” His tone was sharp, almost mocking.
I folded my arms. “Fine. But don’t you ever kiss me again.”
He chuckled, stripping off his tuxedo jacket.
“Relax. I wasn’t planning to. You’re not my type.”
The audacity of this boy! Before I could even reply, he slid off his pants and climbed into bed in nothing but his boxers.
I froze. “Are you seriously going to sleep like that?”
“I sleep like this every night,” he said casually, propping an arm behind his head.
“If you think I’ll charm you, do yourself a favor and kill the thought.”
I looked around, desperate for an escape. My eyes landed on the elegant couch in the corner.
“I’ll sleep there.”
He smirked. “That couch is from England. If you so much as put your head on it, you’ll disrespect art. And believe me, I’ll make you regret it.”
My heart pounded. He wasn’t yelling, but his voice carried weight. Dangerous weight.
“I know exactly what you’re trying to do,” I muttered.
He turned to face me, his eyes cold but tired.
“As much as you hate this marriage, I hate it too. So don’t play the victim. You want to sleep, sleep. You want to stand there like a statue, be my guest. Just don’t expect sympathy from me.”
The silence after his words was deafening. Slowly, I slipped under the covers, dragging pillows between us to form a barrier.
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just closed his eyes like I didn’t exist.
But I lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. My body was tense, my mind racing. I was in a stranger’s bed, with a boy who had kissed me in front of the world, who slept half-naked like he didn’t care, who had power in his smirk and poison in his words.
I told myself I hated him. But deep inside, I couldn’t stop remembering how his lips had felt on mine.i was worried about my grandmother how is she