𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐦 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧

" Undercurrents In Power "

Onika sat behind her massive mahogany desk, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood. Michael stood opposite her, his posture tense and his expression a mix of frustration and determination.

"I'm telling you, Onika, you need me on this business trip. My position demands it," Michael argued, his voice firm.

Onika's eyes narrowed. "I can handle this trip, Michael. I don't need you hovering over every detail."

They glared at each other, the tension thick in the air. Finally, Onika sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Fine. If you're so insistent, then Beyoncé's coming with me."

Michael's eyes widened in surprise and irritation. "Of course, she must. She's your Crisis Manager, after all."

At that moment, the door opened, and Beyoncé walked in, a stack of files in her hands. She paused, sensing the charged atmosphere in the room. Onika immediately strode over to her, her eyes blazing.

"Why didn't you tell me about this trip?" Onika demanded, her voice low and intense.

Beyoncé raised an eyebrow, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because I thought you and your husband could enjoy it together."

Onika's grip tightened around Beyoncé's arm, and before she knew it, she was being yanked out of the office and into a smaller, more private room. The door slammed shut behind them, and they stood facing each other, the air crackling with unresolved tension.

Onika's eyes were fierce, her grip on Beyoncé's arm unrelenting. "Don't you dare use that tone with me," she hissed.

Beyoncé's pulse quickened, both from the sudden physical closeness and the intensity in Onika's eyes. "And don't you dare manhandle me," she shot back, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart.

Onika's gaze softened slightly, but she didn't let go. "You know why I want you with me, right?"

Beyoncé's breath hitched, her mind racing. "Why? To keep tabs on me? To control me?"

Onika pulled Beyoncé closer, their faces inches apart. "Do you feel like I need to? Is there someone I need to eliminate?" Her voice was low, dangerous.

Beyoncé's eyes widened. "Seriously, you're willing to-"

"Kill someone who touches you? Yes, Beyoncé, I'm more than willing to," Onika interrupted, her tone unwavering. "Now go pack your bags and get ready for this trip."

Beyoncé's defiance flared. "You don't get to control me."

Onika's grip tightened, her eyes blazing. "Beyoncé, listen to me."

"No," Beyoncé snapped back.

Onika leaned in closer, their noses almost touching. "Go pack, or-"

"Or what, Onika?" Beyoncé challenged, her voice steady but her heart racing.

The air between them crackled with unresolved tension. Onika's eyes bore into Beyoncé's, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The intensity of their emotions was palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Onika's voice softened slightly, but her resolve remained. "Or I'll make you."

Beyoncé's breath hitched, her pulse quickening. "You can't force me."

Onika's lips twisted into a smirk. "Watch me."

Without warning, Onika's hands moved to Beyoncé's waist, pulling her closer. Beyoncé's defenses crumbled, her body responding to Onika's touch despite her best efforts to resist. Their lips were inches apart, the magnetic pull between them undeniable.