Bodyguard (YN x Beyonce)

Part Thirty-Nine

"You having fun?" she asked, eyes sharp on me.

I swallowed hard, forcing a small smile. "Yeah... yeah, I am."

I tried to smooth things over. "Solange, this is Rachel Roy... Rachel, this is Solange."

Solange didn't even glance at Rachel, her arms crossed. "I know who she is." she said flatly.

My stomach tightened, and I realized quickly that there was no point arguing. Solange's glare was absolute... protective, uncompromising.

"And why are you over here" she asked, nodding toward me, "when your wife is over there?"

I followed her gaze to Beyoncé, who was mid-conversation a few steps away, laughing softly. I hesitated, then gave Rachel a polite smile. "It was really nice to meet you, Rachel," I said.

Rachel smiled warmly, though I could tell she noticed the tension. "You too, YN. Have fun tonight."

I nodded once and excused myself, moving toward Beyoncé, Solange's eyes following my every step.

Solange fell into step beside me, her arms still crossed, eyes never leaving mine. "You didn't forget our conversation, did you?"

I blinked, trying to play casual. "What conversation?"

She gave me that look... the one that didn't need words. Oh no... I immediately knew. Solange always made it clear: she would not tolerate anyone hurting her sister.

"That was innocent." I said quickly, forcing a laugh, hoping to diffuse the tension.

"Yeah, maybe on your part," she said, her voice low but firm. "You need to learn to read the room."

My stomach flipped. "Excuse me? I read rooms very well."

Her eyes narrowed, a flash of the same intensity I'd seen in Beyoncé. "She was all over you."

I blinked, startled. "I would never do anything to hurt your sister. Ever."

Solange's expression softened slightly, though the edge in her voice remained. "I know you won't."

Then, as quickly as she appeared, she walked off, leaving me standing there. I laughed softly, partly from relief, partly from the absurdity of it all... but underneath, there was that familiar prickle of caution. Solange's protective streak wasn't a joke.

I shook my head, still smiling to myself, and finally returned back to Beyoncé, who was waiting just a few steps away, radiant and completely unaware of my little confrontation.

We finally settled into our seats, and the first plates of food were brought out. The aromas hit instantly... Creole roasted chicken, BBQ collard greens, papaya piri piri salad and I couldn't help but grin. Chef Kwame had truly outdone himself.

Beyoncé leaned in toward me, a mischievous glint in her eye. "This is a good year for you to be at the Gala," she whispered. "Last year... the food was not good."

I laughed, taking a bite of the perfectly roasted chicken.

Solange nodded in agreement, her voice dripping with approval. "Yeah, it's about time they get a Black chef up in here. Finally."

As we moved through the courses, dessert arrived... bodega-special cosmic brownies and honey-sweet cream cake. I watched as Beyoncé delicately cut a piece of the cake and, before I could react, held the fork out toward me.

"Here." she said, her tone playful. "Try this."

I took a bite, savoring the sweet creaminess, and then, without thinking, leaned over and kissed her.