Her Assistant ✓

Chapter Fifteen

Onika
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Hours—or day's—after she'd last woken up, she was seeing more clearly, and McFuck was still around.

Saying that she felt awkward was like announcing that Hitler had a bit of an issue with Jews. She didn't know where to look, what to say; dammit. Of all people who could have found her and taken care of her—okay, the pickings were limited to Brandi—why did it have to be her?

"Are we at your place?" she asked in a voice she didn't recognize.

Her only answer was a nod.

"And is Blue here?"

Another nod.

"I hope Blue and I"—she searched for words—"aren't too much of an inconvenience."

Beyoncé's usual scowl just deepened; she didn't reply at all.

Okay, then.

"Well, now I'm better, I'll just call a cab and we'll be on our way..."

"You'll do no such thing."

Onika's response to that tone usually was yes, ma'am, but she wasn't her boss anymore.

"Now wait a minute..."

"The doctor ordered rest. She spoke about potential relapse, too. How are you going to take care of your daughter if you can't even stand straight?"

Protests died on her lips and her eyes watered. Onika wasn't a crier—not even a little bit—but there she was, bawling her eyes out all of a sudden. Because she was right. She couldn't take care of Blue properly. Shit, what would have happened if she hadn't found them and intervened? She'd said she'd been out of it for days. Her baby could have starved, hurt herself trying to get to the kitchen—anything could have happened. She could have opened the door to some sort of psychopath,  rather than Beyoncé.

Shit.

"Ms. Maraj? I'd greatly appreciate if the crying could cease. Preferably right now."

She lifted her eyes to find her looking at her like she'd just transformed into a snake, and for some reason, that made her laugh.

"A wattpad book where Beyoncé is an emotionless woman who can't stand tears. How original."

She rolled her eyes and walked towards the bed, making her freeze in place when she bent right next to her.

Beyoncé opened a drawer of her bedside table and got a packet of tissues before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Here," she said holding one up to her face, wiping her wet cheeks, and simultaneously awakening every single part of her body.

The aches in her limbs faded, replaced by something more powerful, needy.

Her hand stilled, and her hazel eyes bored into for hers for so long she was pretty certain she saw exactly what she'd been thinking.

"Sorry. I guess I got used to..." She got up. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable was right—and the only way to soothe the discomfort was if she got back down there and let her straddle her.

"Its time to pick Blue up."

Her strange Scrooge turned to go, but she called her back.

"Beyoncé? Thank you."

The words didn't convey the extent of her gratitude, but they would have to do.

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I'm back, my break was good as hell.

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