Natasha had already made up her mind—she was going to agree to Leo's terms.
She wasn't the type to be swayed by flirtatious banter. This was strategy. If she wanted to become stronger and gain something for herself, she had to make sacrifices.
And honestly? She didn't owe Nick Fury anything. The man had been stringing her along for two years with promises of the Infinity Formula—and still hadn't delivered.
Her thoughts hardened her resolve. She tightened her grip around Leo's arm, pretending to act sweet and pitiful.
To gain something, you have to give something, she reminded herself.
Sure, this scoundrel was getting off easy, but every little bit of "friction" between them made her heartbeat quicken—and not entirely from anger.
Leo, on the other hand, was silently begging for mercy.
"Uh—Natasha, maybe stop rubbing against me? The weather's dry, things catch fire easily," he said with a cough, trying not to look flustered.
She didn't move an inch.
Realizing he couldn't break free, Leo sighed in defeat. Faced with such a deadly sugar-coated bullet, he could only... surrender.
"Alright, alright," he muttered under his breath. "You win."
Then, trying to steer the topic away from whatever this was, he quickly asked, "So, are you actually working here? Or were you waiting for me?"
Of course, he already knew the answer.
Natasha's acting kicked into high gear. She blinked her big, innocent eyes and let out a dramatic sigh.
"Us women spend money like water! Beauty treatments, skincare, dresses, handbags—you name it. And Nick Fury? That stingy bastard won't give me a raise to save his life!"
She gave him a pitiful look. "So... why don't you just take me in? You already have two women. What's one more?"
Leo blinked at her in disbelief. Oh, she was definitely acting.
But he couldn't deny—her performance was Oscar-worthy.
To mess with her, he turned toward No. 18.
"My dear little maid," he said dramatically, "Natasha seems so pitiful. How about we take her in? She can be your assistant."
No. 18 rolled her eyes. Yeah right. You just want an excuse to say yes.
Still, she played along. "This sister does look miserable. If Master wants her, fine. She can be a 'nighttime maid.'"
Natasha didn't understand what "nighttime maid" meant—but she caught the important part: she was in.
She gave No. 18 a sweet, grateful smile. "Thank you, big sister."
Around them, the male customers in the dealership looked like they'd just witnessed a massacre.
They had been drooling over Natasha since she walked in, completely captivated. And now? The mysterious guy with the perfect smile had taken her just like that.
If they'd known earlier, maybe they would've tried their luck too. But now? Too late.
Not that it would've gone well—if any of them had tried, Natasha would've happily sent them home a few parts lighter.
Leo glanced at the crestfallen men and smirked.
"What's wrong, boys? Can't handle a little competition? Sorry, but the Black Widow's my housekeeper now. Tough luck."
He leaned back with a smug grin. "I just love the way you hate me but can't do a damn thing about it."
Natasha turned back to him with a bright, teasing smile. "Boss, you're so generous. I could just love you to death!"
And before Leo could react, she threw her arms around him, laughing and spinning playfully.
Leo groaned inwardly. Is this woman trying to kill me with temptation?
She was beautiful, seductive, confident—but also unpredictable.
And the worst part? She was in her prime.
It hit him then: the Natasha of this world wasn't the older, battle-worn spy from the movies. She was young—mid-twenties, fiery, and drop-dead gorgeous.
Leo cursed under his breath. "Damn it, multiverse timelines..."
Movies could change ages and cast at will—but this was real life, and here, she was the real deal.
Before things spiraled further, Leo quickly pushed her back gently. "Okay, okay! Calm down, Natasha!"
He leaned in slightly and whispered, "You might want to tell your black egghead to relax. He's probably listening, right?"
Natasha froze, then quickly caught on. She smiled dazzlingly and said aloud, "Egghead? Who's that? Never heard of him."
Her laughter rang through the dealership, bright and clear.
And somewhere on the other end of the tiny comm link, Nick Fury nearly choked on his own rage.
"Goddammit!" Fury slammed his fist on his desk. "Doesn't he know mocking someone's appearance is rude?!"
His one eye twitched. The nickname Black Egghead was going to spread like wildfire—and he knew it.
"Natasha," he growled into the earpiece, "your mission's going fine. I won't say more. And for god's sake, stop using that comm device. Everyone knows we use these things."
"And do not—I repeat, do not—spread this around!"
"What matter, Director?" Natasha replied sweetly, pretending not to understand.
"Hmph! You know what!"
Click.
He cut the connection, fuming. His face, already dark, somehow managed to turn even darker.
Natasha barely managed to keep a straight face. Her "mission" was already more entertaining than expected.
Leo, meanwhile, was trying to look anywhere but at her chest.
"Uh, you might want to... tone it down a bit," he said awkwardly, pointing at her chest. "That top looks like it's about to explode."
Natasha blinked, then coughed lightly, quickly straightening her outfit. "Right... anyway."
"Let's talk about business. How much are you paying me?"
Leo blinked. "Wait—you want a salary?"
She pouted. "Of course! You think I'm working for free?"
"Unbelievable," Leo muttered.
She tightened her grip on his arm. "Don't tell me you're a misuser too, Leo."
"Fine, fine." He sighed. "You'll get three hundred thousand a month."
Her eyes widened. "Three hundred thousand... U.S. dollars?"
Leo smirked. "What, you thought I meant Zimbabwean dollars?"
"Oh my god…" Natasha gasped. "You—you didn't add an extra zero by accident, did you?"
Her voice trembled. "That's more than ten times what Fury pays me!"
Leo chuckled. "Maybe now you understand why people quit S.H.I.E.L.D."
Natasha's eyes sparkled. For once, she was speechless.
Maybe this "partnership" wasn't going to be so bad after all.