My Boss - Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Ms. Romanoff

Y/N POV

I swiped a finger across my iPhone one last time and looked at the piece of art lit up on the screen. Even in the picture I'd snapped before leaving the store, the dress glowed with thousands of tiny, gold sequins. Its beauty was indescribable. Epic. To die for. Giving up my spring break would be worth it. Yes, it was far too lavish and perfect for a fraternity spring formal, but I didn't care. I had something to prove.

The elevator dinged at the top floor of Stark Industries. My heart thumped once as the doors slid open to reveal a sprawling office that looked as though it were regularly scrubbed with bleach. I had visited my father's company many times before, but rarely ever step foot into this department. Dad offered to fly me back Los Angeles so I could intern for him. But since I was already in New York, I decided to stay and work in the headquarters here, I also didn't want to have to cater to his every dying need. Besides, I would be working under Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, my father's partners in Stark Industries. They ran the New York enterprises, and long before, I had already known Natasha Romanoff. Wanda was relatively new, she had proved great potential for "the future of Stark Industries," according to dad, but I had never met her. Although this was only temporary, my palms were clammy, regardless. It would be my first real job. This money wouldn't be given to me with a simple "please Mom and Dad." I had to earn it.

Each step farther into the office came with a deep inhalation. In reality, I had nothing to worry about-my new boss, Natasha Romanoff, was an old family friend. She'd watched me grow up. If my father had such a thing as a best friend, she would be it, but Dad's time is spent creating new mind blowing projects.

Directly off the elevator was a platinum-haired receptionist with a low-cut blouse. "June" according to her nameplate. She pointed me in the direction of Natasha's office. I passed an empty desk just outside her door, which I assumed would be mine, and knocked lightly. When there was no response, I knocked again.

"Come in."

The sunny, downtown New York skyline brightened an expansive office. Natasha was on the phone, her seat angled toward the view so I could only see her profile. She checked her watch and, still staring out the window, motioned for me to sit. I perched on the edge of a chair in front of her desk. She didn't glance at me once as she spoke into the phone. I, on the other hand, had nowhere to look but at her.

As she listened, her perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowed until one shot up. "Next month?" she asked. "That'll drive up the cost by thousands. What makes you think I have that to spare?" She paused again, staring out at the skyscrapers. "I'll give you until the end of next week. If it's not finished by then, you can spend next month looking for a new job."

She reached out and dropped the receiver without looking, but it landed directly in its cradle.

After a few moments of silence, I spoke. "Natasha?"

Her leather chair squeaked when she turned to me. "Y/N Stark."

Her raspy voice rolled over my long, mouthful-of-a-name. My friends and family always shortened it to Y/N/N, and it tied my tongue to hear her say it that way-as if it were some risqué inside joke between us. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

She stood and came around the desk toward me. In her sharp, navy suit, she wasn't a family friend who used to come over for golf. The way she leaned in and straightened her jacket before settling against the edge of her desk was almost threatening.

"How long has it been?" she asked. My eyes jumped to meet hers. Those. I remembered-her bottomless eyes. Their deep, green was how I imagined the most polished emeralds.