You Don't Belong To Anyone Else But Me...!

Monday arrived far too quickly.

One minute Asemahle had been enjoying her weekend, convincing herself she'd forgotten all about a certain businessman she'd met for less than a minute. The next, she was squeezed into a taxi during morning traffic, her handbag balanced on her lap and her phone in her hand.

She scrolled through work emails, trying to focus.

Trying being the key word.

Her mind kept wandering.

Back to Friday night.

Back to that hotel ballroom.

Back to those dark eyes and that annoyingly calm smile.

Asemahle sighed and rubbed her forehead.

"Get yourself together."

The elderly woman sitting beside her glanced over.

Asemahle quickly looked away.

Great. Now she was talking to herself in public.

She had a job to focus on.

A career to build.

A future to create.

Daydreaming about a successful businessman she'd spoken to for all of thirty seconds wasn't helping anybody.

The taxi finally pulled up outside Khanyisa Holdings.

Asemahle adjusted her blazer, took a deep breath, and headed inside.

---

The office was already alive.

Phones rang from every direction.

Printers hummed nonstop.

Someone walked past carrying a tray of coffee that smelled so good Asemahle almost followed them.

The moment she stepped onto the eighth floor, Ayanda appeared out of nowhere.

"There you are!"

Asemahle blinked.

"Good morning to you too."

Ayanda grabbed her arm.

"No time."

"That sounds concerning."

"It's not concerning. It's exciting."

"What happened?"

Ayanda practically bounced on her feet.

"We landed the biggest account of the year."

Asemahle immediately woke up.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

They walked toward the marketing department while Ayanda continued talking a hundred kilometres an hour.

"The directors have been celebrating since this morning."

"What kind of account?"

Ayanda lowered her voice dramatically.

"Makhoba Investments."

Asemahle stopped walking so suddenly someone nearly bumped into her.

"...What?"

"Makhoba Investments."

Her stomach dropped.

No.

No way.

There had to be more than one Makhoba.

Right?

Except there wasn't.

And she knew it.

"Oh, and there's a strategy meeting this afternoon."

Ayanda kept walking, completely unaware of the crisis unfolding inside Asemahle's head.

"The client wants fresh ideas."

Asemahle forced her feet to move again.

"Who's representing them?"

"No clue."

Somehow that answer made her even more nervous.

---

The entire morning dragged.

Emails.

Reports.

Meetings.

Coffee.

More emails.

Asemahle couldn't focus properly on any of it.

Every time she looked at the clock, only three minutes had passed.

By lunchtime she was convinced time had personally decided to torture her.

At exactly two o'clock, the marketing team gathered in one of the large boardrooms.

The polished conference table gleamed beneath the lights.

A projector hummed softly.

Notebooks opened.

Laptops clicked.

Everyone looked eager.

A little nervous too.

Asemahle chose a seat somewhere in the middle and opened her notebook.

Five minutes until the meeting started.

Then four.

Then two.

Then one.

The boardroom door opened.

The room instantly fell quiet.

Asemahle looked up.

And forgot how to breathe.

Andile Makhoba stood in the doorway.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Recognition flashed across his face.

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

Almost amused.

As if he was just as surprised as she was.

Asemahle's stomach did something strange.

The room suddenly felt warmer.

Way warmer.

Beside her, Ayanda practically inhaled her own tongue.

"Wait," she whispered.

Her eyes darted between them.

"You know him?"

Asemahle looked down so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.

"Not exactly."

It wasn't technically a lie.

They'd met.

Once.

For approximately thirty seconds.

Still.

She suddenly became very interested in her notebook.

Andile walked into the room with the easy confidence of someone who belonged anywhere he went.

Managers immediately stood to greet him.

Hands were shaken.

Introductions exchanged.

Then, because the universe clearly enjoyed laughing at her, he sat directly across from her.

Of course he did.

Asemahle stared at her notebook.

Fantastic.

---

The meeting began.

One of the directors welcomed everyone before turning toward Andile.

"We're excited to be working with Makhoba Investments."

"So are we."

There was that voice again.

Calm.

Steady.

Annoyingly memorable.

Asemahle focused on writing random notes just to keep herself occupied.

Unfortunately, it wasn't helping.

She could still feel his presence across the table.

Still remember the way he'd caught that tray before she'd dropped it.

Still remember that smile.

The director continued.

"Our goal is to create a campaign focused on growth, innovation, and community impact."

People nodded.

Ideas started bouncing around the room.

Marketing strategies.

Campaign themes.

Target audiences.

Most of it sounded decent.

Until one particular proposal came up.

Asemahle frowned.

The more she listened, the less she liked it.

It wasn't terrible.

It was just...

Safe.

Boring.

The same thing every company seemed to do.

Before she could talk herself out of it, words slipped out.

"I don't think that will work."

Silence.

Immediate silence.

The kind that makes you question every decision you've ever made.

Asemahle wanted to crawl under the table.

One of the senior managers raised an eyebrow.

"And why not?"

Her heart pounded.

She could actually hear it.

But she straightened her shoulders.

Because she believed what she was saying.

"Because everyone says the same thing."

Nobody interrupted.

Nobody looked away.

So she kept going.

"If we want people to pay attention, we need something real."

She stood and walked toward the screen before her nerves could stop her.

The moment she started talking about the idea, everything else faded away.

The room.

The executives.

The pressure.

Gone.

"What if we focus on people instead of profits?"

Several heads tilted.

Interested.

Encouraged, she continued.

"Real businesses. Real families. Real communities that have benefited from investment."

The room felt different now.

People weren't just listening.

They were engaged.

Asemahle pointed toward the presentation slides.

"People connect with stories. Not numbers."

A few people nodded.

Someone scribbled notes.

By the time she finished, the room had completely shifted.

The director smiled.

"That's an excellent point."

A few others agreed.

Asemahle returned to her seat, trying not to look relieved.

Her cheeks felt warm.

Across the table, Andile leaned back slightly.

Watching her.

There was a small smile on his face.

Not polite.

Not professional.

Genuine.

And for some reason, that smile made her even more nervous than speaking had.

---

The meeting finally ended nearly two hours later.

People stood up immediately.

Conversations resumed.

Laptops closed.

Chairs scraped against the floor.

Asemahle packed her notebook as quickly as possible.

Her plan was simple.

Leave.

Immediately.

Before she had time to embarrass herself.

"Asemahle."

Her name stopped her in her tracks.

She closed her eyes briefly.

Of course.

Slowly, she turned around.

Andile stood behind her.

The room was almost empty now.

Just the two of them.

And suddenly she became very aware of that fact.

"Yes?"

For a second, he simply looked at her.

Then that familiar smile appeared.

"So we meet again."

A nervous laugh slipped out.

"It seems that way."

"I wasn't expecting to find the woman from the networking event sitting in my strategy meeting."

Asemahle folded her arms.

Mostly to stop herself fidgeting.

"I wasn't expecting the man from the networking event to be running the strategy meeting."

His smile widened.

"Fair enough."

The silence that followed should have felt awkward.

It didn't.

Oddly enough, it felt easy.

Comfortable.

Like talking to someone she'd known longer than she actually had.

"I liked your presentation."

The compliment caught her off guard.

"Oh."

Brilliant response, Asemahle.

Very articulate.

Andile's eyes softened slightly.

"You challenged everyone."

"I wasn't trying to."

"I know."

That seemed to amuse him.

"That's exactly why it worked."

Asemahle looked down for a second.

Compliments from senior executives weren't exactly part of her daily routine.

And compliments from Andile Makhoba?

That was a whole different category.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Simple.

Yet somehow it lingered.

---

Outside the boardroom, Sibusiso was waiting.

The moment he spotted Andile talking to Asemahle, a grin spread across his face.

A dangerous grin.

The kind that usually meant trouble.

By the time Asemahle walked away, Sibusiso was practically vibrating with curiosity.

"Who was that?"

Andile gathered his documents.

"A marketing assistant."

Sibusiso snorted.

"Right."

"What?"

"You spent five minutes talking to her after the meeting."

"And?"

"You don't even spend five minutes talking to me after meetings."

Andile ignored him.

Sibusiso followed anyway.

"You like her."

"No."

"You do."

"No."

"You absolutely do."

Andile sighed heavily.

"Can we leave?"

Sibusiso's laughter echoed all the way to the elevator.

---

Back at her desk, Asemahle stared at her computer screen.

Or rather, pretended to.

The same email had been open for nearly ten minutes.

She hadn't read a single word.

Her brain was elsewhere.

Specifically, in a boardroom she'd left twenty minutes ago.

Luyanda was going to have a field day with this.

With a groan, she grabbed her phone.

Asemahle: Guess who my company's new client is.

The reply arrived almost immediately.

Luyanda: Who?

Asemahle: Makhoba Investments.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Appeared again.

Luyanda: THE Makhoba Investments???

Asemahle: Yes.

A few seconds passed.

Then:

Luyanda: The handsome billionaire?

Asemahle rolled her eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.

Asemahle: He's not a billionaire.

The reply came instantly.

Luyanda: You didn't deny the handsome part.

Asemahle locked her phone immediately.

Conversation over.

Finished.

Absolutely not.

---

Later that evening, Andile stood on the balcony of his penthouse.

The ocean stretched endlessly into the darkness.

Far below, city lights flickered like scattered stars.

Normally, once a meeting ended, so did his thoughts about the people in it.

Business was business.

Simple.

Efficient.

Move on.

Tonight, however, his mind kept circling back.

To Asemahle.

The confidence she'd shown.

The way she'd spoken up despite being the youngest person in the room.

The intelligence behind her ideas.

Most people spent their energy trying to impress him.

She hadn't seemed interested in doing that at all.

His phone buzzed.

A message from Sibusiso.

Sibusiso: Thinking about the marketing assistant?

Andile groaned.

Andile: Goodnight.

A second later:

Sibusiso: Definitely thinking about her.

Despite himself, Andile laughed.

The sound surprised even him.

Because if he was being honest, Sibusiso wasn't entirely wrong.

He was curious.

And something told him this wasn't the last time he and Asemahle Ngcono would cross paths.

Not even remotely close.