Beyoncé Knowles can't believe her annoyingly perfect personal assistant has actually resigned from her cushy, highly paid position, and she intends to tell her exactly what she thinks about it.
But when she gets to her place, she comes to realize s...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Damn her. Damn her to hell and back, for making her feel that way.
It had been a simple touch, a simple look, something that could have been Innocent-but it wasn't and she hated her for it. The way she lingered, her fingers brushing hers, had made her feel all kinds of wrong. It had awakened things she didn't think she'd ever feel again, deep-rooted needs in her groin, so strong it was making her believe she might die if the ache didn't go away.
Fuckity, fuck, she had to get a hold of herself. McFuck was a dick and a half. She was her boss. She had a girlfriend. Dammit, what had she been thinking, gazing into her eyes, open-mouthed, when she knew she was taken? That made her a Jezebel. Shame on Mrs. Knowles, on her, and on them both. But mainly on Beyoncé. Onika hadn't done anything wrong.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
She could have taken a step back and retracted her hand.
Dammit.
The rest of the day was uneventful; she might be wrong, but she thought Beyoncé purposefully avoided looking her way. She told her to leave the archives in favor of some pressing issues, and she thanked her lucky stars for whatever hiccup McFuck encountered. They worked in their respective offices in silence, punctuated by the occasional instant message requesting a folder or a coffee. At six, she called for some take out at her request-Thai, a rare treat. It almost made up for the long, dull video conference she suffered through, dutifully taking the short notes she requested.
"Thank you for your time Mrs. Maraj," she finally said, and she practically flew out the doors before she changed her mind.
Onika ran all the way from the station to her apartment, grimacing as she always did when she took in the exterior of the building.
She'd made a home within the concrete walls, but outside, it was nothing short of a dump. Literally-her neighbors saw no problem littering the floor with cans and suspicious syringes. Needless to say, there was no security anywhere.
God, she needed out of that hellhole like she needed air. Not only for her own safety, but for her girl's, too.
"Next month," she promised herself.
She'd have the money for a move then.
"Mommy!"
All her weariness disappeared when she got in and was greeted by hugs and kisses.
She eventually looked up from Blue to the sophisticated woman leaning against the kitchen door.
