Prologue 🌹🍷 As she rushed into the office, while juggling her briefcase and a scalding hot latte, Nkosiphe Zwane collided with a man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Apologetic, he bent to pick up the scattered contents of her purse, their hands touching briefly as they both reached for a runaway lip gloss. The spark of irritation in her eyes was unmistakable, and Nkosiyabo Xulu couldn't help but notice the way her full lips pursed in annoyance, or the way her curves seemed to soften the sharp lines of her business attire. Little did they know, this chance encounter would set off a chain reaction that would upend their meticulously planned lives and lead them straight into the arms of the one person who would change everything.

"You're my hero, Superwoman," he said, his voice rough like gravel - like he wasn't used to saying anything soft. I smiled, his gaze steady as I tied the last strip of the bandage around his shoulder. "How come my superpowers don't work on you and me?" I asked, quietly, like it wasn't already eating me alive. He didn't flinch. "Maybe they don't work on people who already belong to you." His callused hand brushed my cheek. My chest ached. "Sukhala mama, ungowami wena." And the tears came. Because I'd asked him to fake love me. And now I didn't know where the lie ended and the truth began. He said "mama." inqondo yagoloza,intliziyo yavuma. (my brain said no, but my heart said yes) Ngewami Mamba is a force-an award-winning gynecologist, tech mogul, and humanitarian with a passport full of stamps and a bank account in pounds, not rands. She's the woman every man wants and every woman envies. But when her younger sister announces an unexpected engagement, Ngewami's perfectly curated world tilts off its axis. She was supposed to be first. The wife. The bride. The standard. Now, with the spotlight slipping and her ego bruised, Ngewami will stop at nothing to beat her sister to the altar-even if it means faking a relationship with the one kind of man she's always sworn off: A Zulu man. Sharp-tongued, emotionally armored, and unapologetically ambitious, Ngewami isn't looking for love-she's looking for a win. But love has a twisted sense of humor. And it just might be written in bold, bloody Zulu.

She snapped her head up, ready to give him a piece of her mind but instantly wished she hadn't when their eyes met. His eyes and skin were the colour of coffee beans and his big nose protruded from his face, enhancing his full lips and the neatly trimmed stubble, framing his strong jawline. She loved that he had a clean shaven head, already imaging it between her thighs. Colour stained her rounded cheeks as she banished the thought from her head. Whoa, Kgomotso! Get a grip! He truly was beautiful, like a work of art meant to be admired for a lifetime. He oozed sex appeal, effortlessly, and for the first time since Xola, Kgomotso was mesmerized by a man and this was most interesting because Xola never aroused her like this stranger. Yes, stranger, she needed to remember that because her thoughts were already going off course. She slowly shook her head, gathering her thoughts and returned her gaze on him. She hoped he was oblivious to the effect he had on her treacherous body. "If you weren't so busy on that thing, you would've noticed me, and none of this would've happened," she said, poking at his taut chest. Her fierceness stirred something in him, something he'd long thought was dead and would never resurrect. He found it sexy that she didn't back down even though it was obvious she found him attractive. He noticed the deep yearning, which glistened in her warm-toned eyes when she blushed. He could almost imagine what she was thinking and that stirred his erection to life. He wanted her, to feel her soft skin against his, kiss the furrow between her brows and make love to her. Love? No. You're getting way ahead of yourself, buddy. The thought shook him so bad he almost jumped out of his skin.