Strictly business (until it wasn't) - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Nat's POV
The office was unusually quiet for once. A gentle breeze filtered in through the open window, ruffling the edge of a file on my desk. Wanda sat across from me, legs crossed, sipping a coffee with a teasing smile on her lips.
"How do you not throw something at the wall after the fifth budget meeting in a row?" Wanda asked, eyes scanning one of the reports.
I smirked, lounging back in my leather chair. "I do. That's why I keep stress balls in my drawer and an HR manager with a high tolerance for me."
Wanda chuckled. "I am excellent at my job, excellent at dealing with you."
Just as I opened my mouth to respond, the door to my office quietly swung open without warning.
Y/N strode in, heels clicking softly against the polished floor. "Sorry to interrupt," she said quickly, cheeks slightly flushed as she avoided eye contact with Wanda. "Just dropping off the final logistics update."
She stepped around the desk and handed me a few neatly clipped documents, her fingertips brushing briefly against mine. I gave her a brief glance, the corner of her mouth twitching upward.
"Thanks," I said simply.
Y/N nodded once and left just as quickly as she'd entered, the door clicking shut behind her.
Silence followed for half a beat.
Then Wanda raised a brow slowly and turned to look at me. "You didn't tell her off."
I blinked innocently, already flipping through the documents. "Tell her off for what?"
"You know exactly what. Anyone else who walked in here without knocking would've gotten one of your infamous death glares, or a lecture on professional boundaries. But Y/N waltzes in, and suddenly you're all..." Wanda gestured vaguely. "Smiles and soft tones."
I didn't look up. "She apologised."
"Uh-huh." Wanda narrowed her eyes, amusement dancing behind them. "You like her."
I finally glanced up with a dry look. "I do not."
Wanda just grinned knowingly. "You so do."
I rolled my eyes. "Remind me again why I keep you around?"
"Because I see things," Wanda sing-songed, rising to her feet and heading toward the door. "And right now, I'm seeing your crush walk back past your window. Try not to stare too hard, Boss."
I shook my head. "I don't mind her walking in here without knocking, she works harder then you think."
Wanda turned, eyebrows raised. "Hold on," she said, a smile already tugging at her lips. "Did you just justify her breaking your rules?"
"I didn't justify anything. I said what's true."
Wanda folded her arms. "Enlighten me, then."
I sighed and leaned back in her chair again,
tapping the papers Y/N had just handed me. "I don't have to be rude to her. Or tell her off. She does everything right."
Wanda's brow quirked higher. "Everything?"
"She's on top of things," I said, now looking directly at her. "Always a step ahead. I don't have to chase her down, double-check her work, or micromanage. She gets it done, often before I've even asked. It's helpful. And... refreshing."
Wanda tilted her head, lips pursed thoughtfully. "You know, for someone who claims she doesn't like her, that sounded dangerously close to a love letter."
I smirked faintly, ignoring the heat rising to my ears. "Don't make it weird."
"You're the one making it weird," Wanda teased. "You don't let me interrupt you without knocking, and I'm literally in charge of your HR compliance."
"Maybe try being as good at your job as Y/N," I deadpanned, reaching for my pen.
Wanda gasped, mock offended. "Wow. Okay. And here I thought we were friends."
"We are," I said dryly.
Wanda gave me a long, curious look, then smiled, more genuine this time. "You really respect her."
I didn't say anything, but my slight nod said it all.
Wanda turned to leave again, this time not stopping at the door. "Just try not to marry her," she called over her shoulder. "HR nightmare."
I chuckled quietly as the door closed again, my eyes drifting back to the paperwork Y/N had dropped off. Neat. Efficient. Flawless, as usual.
Yeah... maybe I did like her. Just a little.
The door opened again, and I looked up instinctively.
Y/N stepped inside, more cautious this time, holding her tablet and a small envelope. Her expression was composed, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
"Sorry to interrupt... again," she said softly, offering me a brief smile. "I just forgot to give you this, it's the security clearance update you asked for yesterday."
She crossed the room, placing the envelope on my desk with a practiced ease. She hesitated, then added, "And... I know I should've knocked earlier. I didn't mean to be disrespectful."
I blinked, studying her carefully.
"You weren't," I said, voice calm. "You don't need to apologise."
Y/N tilted her head, surprised. "I don't?"
"No," I said simply, tapping the edge of the envelope. "You've never given me a reason to doubt you. You're always ahead of schedule, you handle more than what's expected, and you make my job easier. I trust your judgment. If you walk in without knocking, it doesn't bother me."
Y/N blinked, lips parting slightly. "That's... kind of the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me at work."
I gave her a small smile. "Well, don't let it go to your head. I don't hand out compliments often."
She laughed softly, some of the tension melting from her shoulders. "I'll try to stay humble."
"Good," I said, eyes glinting. "Because you're still not getting out of the quarterly review meeting next week."
Y/N groaned playfully. "Worth a try." She turned to leave, but paused at the door, glancing back. "Thanks, Natasha. Seriously."
I watched her go, something unspoken settling in the quiet space she left behind. I didn't say it aloud, but it was there, clear as day for me.
You're different. And I notice.
And hearing my name again, it drove me wild.
My gaze lingered on Y/N, my eyes tracking the way she moved with purpose and ease. Through the glass wall of my office, I watched Y/N tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she concentrated on her work, her lips curving slightly in what looked like a private smile.
I was never distracted, never. But Y/N was a distraction I hadn't anticipated. Beautiful, confident, and just cocky enough to make her intriguing, Y/N was different. Most people in my orbit were intimidated by me, tiptoeing around my authority. Y/N, however, wasn't afraid. And I liked that more than I cared to admit.
I snapped myself out of my thoughts, shifting my focus back to the documents on my desk. This is ridiculous, I told myself. I don't get distracted. But I was helplessly distracted.
The hours ticked by, employees filtered out of the lower levels for the evening. I remained at my desk, my attention locked on the stacks of documents I needed to finalise. I didn't mind the late nights, I thrived under pressure.
A soft knock at the door pulled me out of my focus. I looked up to see Y/N standing there, a tablet tucked under her arm and a curious expression on her face.
"I told you that you don't have to knock." I said lightly.
"I know, I know." She smiled.
I watched as she stood at the doors
"Still working?" Y/N asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
I gave a tired sigh and gestured at the chaos on my desk. "There's a lot to get through before the board meeting tomorrow. Go home, Y/N. You've already done enough for today."
But Y/N didn't budge. Instead, she smiled and crossed her arms. "I don't leave until the work is done. Besides, I can help. Two sets of hands will get this done faster."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to stay? This isn't part of your job description."
She shrugged, pulling a chair up to my desk. "Good thing I like going above and beyond."
I couldn't help the faint smile that tugged at my lips. "Suit yourself."
For the next couple of hours, we worked in a comfortable silence, the occasional rustle of papers or the tapping of keyboards filling the air. I was surprised at how easily we fell into sync.
As the it neared 8 p.m., my stomach gave a faint grumble, and I glanced at Y/N, who looked equally absorbed in her work.
"You hungry?" I asked, breaking the silence.
Y/N looked up, surprised. "A little. Why?"
I reached for my phone. "I'm ordering takeout. Any preferences?"
She smiled, leaning back in her chair. "Anything but sushi. I had it last night."
I smirked. "Thai it is. I know a great place."
Within half an hour, the smell of pad Thai and green curry filled the office. We sat across from each other on the floor, the professional barriers between is temporarily set aside as we ate.
"This is good," Y/N said, pointing at the container of pad Thai. "You have good taste in takeout."
"I have good taste in everything," I replied with a small smirk, earning a laugh from Y/N.
We ate in companionable silence for a moment before Y/N glanced at me. "Do you always stay this late?"
"Often," I admitted, taking a sip of my drink. "There's always more to do. But I don't mind."
She studied me for a moment. "I can see that. You're...relentless."
I tilted my head, intrigued. "Is that a compliment?"
"Absolutely," Y/N said with a grin. "It's impressive. But even someone like you needs to take a break now and then."
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "I'll consider it, if you stop staying late just to keep me company."
Y/N smirked. "Deal. As long as you stop ordering such good takeout."
I smiled, feeling a warmth I hadn't expected. For the first time in a long while, I realised the late hours didn't feel so lonely anymore.
Y/N's POV
The clock read 8:57 p.m., but neither of us seemed to care.
Takeout containers lay scattered across the floor of Natasha's office. The sleek, modern decor that usually exuded power and control now looked like the aftermath of a quiet night in. Natasha sat cross-legged, her jacket tossed over the back of her chair, her sleeves rolled up to her forearms.
Across from her, I sat on the floor, one elbow propped on my knee as I scrolled through my tablet. My other hand balanced a container of noodles, which I twirled around my chopsticks with absentminded precision.
We had been like this for the last 20 minutes, surrounded by reports and takeout boxes. No formalities. No sharp commands. Just quiet conversation, the occasional shared glance, and the gentle hum of the city outside the large glass windows.
For once, Natasha wasn't "The CEO." She wasn't the sharp, untouchable force people whispered about in hallways. She was just Nat. Relaxed. Barefoot. Leaning back on her hands with an empty takeout box next to her.
I couldn't stop looking at her.
I told myself it was because Natasha seemed different like this, softer somehow. Her red hair, usually pinned back with precision, now hung loosely over her shoulders. Her eyes, sharp as ever, had a kind of calm in them I hadn't seen before.
God, she's beautiful.
I bit my lip, eyes darting back to her tablet before Natasha caught me staring. I have been infatuated with Natasha since the moment I walked into that interview room months ago. I had thought it would fade after working under her, that once I saw the cracks in the perfect image, the feelings would disappear.
But Natasha didn't have cracks. She had layers. And every layer I uncovered only made it harder to look away.
"What's that face for?" Natasha's voice broke through my thoughts.
I blinked, glancing up. "What face?"
"That face," Natasha said, tilting her head with a faint smirk. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, eyes locked on mine like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "You looked like you were about to laugh."
I snorted, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Just thinking."
"Dangerous," Natasha teased, her smirk widening.
"Only if you're afraid of what I could be thinking of" I say back, my grin quick and sharp.
Natasha raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. Her eyes were like magnets, once they locked onto you, there was no escape. I felt my pulse jump, but I held my ground, refusing to look away.
Don't stare at her lips.
Don't stare at her lips.
My gaze dropped.
Damn it.
Natasha leaned back with a soft laugh, picking up one of the takeout containers, placing it in the bag with the rest of the rubbish. The sound of her laugh, low, warm, genuine, sent a rush of heat through my chest.
"Here," Natasha said, handing me the next file to work through. Our fingers brushed, and I swore I felt it, that flicker of something electric, hot, and far too dangerous.
"Thanks," I muttered, focusing way too hard on opening the file. My fingers were steadier than my heart, which was thudding loud enough to hear.
Minutes passed in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it was the kind of quiet that felt natural. Natasha tapped away on her laptop, occasionally frowning at something on the screen. I flipped through reports, occasionally glancing up just to watch Natasha type.
God, I want to kiss her so badly.
It wasn't a new thought. It had been living in my head rent-free for weeks now. I had perfected the art of not acting on it, forcing myself to be professional. But nights like this, where Natasha was so close, so casual, it was harder to fight.
My eyes lingered on Natasha's hands as she typed. Long, steady fingers. Quick, precise movements. I imagined how those hands would feel on my face, my back, my waist-
"Y/N."
My heart jumped into my throat.
"Yeah?" I blurted out, far too quickly. I looked up, hoping I didn't look as guilty as I felt.
Natasha glanced at me, eyes narrowed, studying me like she knew exactly where my thoughts had gone.
Please don't ask. Please don't ask.
"Did you hear what I just said?" Natasha asked, head tilting slightly.
Oh thank God.
"Yeah, of course," I lied, tapping at my tablet. "Something about... projections."
Natasha blinked, lips pressing into a line as if fighting back a grin. She leaned forward, eyes sharp with amusement. "I didn't say anything about projections."
Damn it.
"Right. I meant... profits," I muttered, already knowing I was caught.
Natasha's eyes stayed on me a second too long, the corner of her mouth tugging upward. She shook her head, going back to her laptop, but I knew I wasn't fooling anyone.
An Hour Later
We had both stopped pretending to work.
I lay on my back, legs stretched out, my head resting on my folded arms as I stared at the ceiling. Natasha sat next to me, legs stretched forward, leaning back on her hands, looking as casual as I had ever seen her.
"You ever think about quitting?" I asked, eyes still on the ceiling.
Natasha glanced at me, eyebrows raised. "No."
"Not once?" I tilted my head, looking at her sideways.
"No," Natasha said simply. "I like control too much."
I hummed in understanding. "Makes sense."
There was a pause. Comfortable. Quiet.
"What about you?" Natasha asked, her voice softer this time.
"Quitting?" I shook my head. "Nope. I like a challenge too much."
Natasha smirked, letting out a quiet laugh. Her eyes moved to mine, scanning me like I was something new and unexpected. "Is it worth it?."
"it can be" I replied, turning my head fully to meet Natasha's gaze. "This place, this work is. You're worth it."
Oh no.
That was too much. Too honest. Too real.
Natasha's gaze shifted, something flickering in her eyes. I saw it happen in real time. My breath caught in my chest. Neither of us moved. Seconds stretched too long, too tense.
"Y/N," Natasha said quietly, her voice just a little rougher than usual.
"Yeah?" I whispered, not trusting my voice.
"Don't look at me like that."
My heart stopped.
"How am I looking at you?" I asked, forcing myself to sound steady.
"Like you want something," she said, her gaze dropping briefly to my lips.
I sucked in a sharp breath, pulse pounding in my ears.
She knows. She knows. She knows.
"Maybe I do," I said softly, so quietly it felt like a secret.
Silence.
Natasha's eyes lifted slowly, meeting my own. Her face was unreadable, guarded in a way it hadn't been all night. For a moment, I thought I had ruined everything. Then Natasha blinked, her gaze softening just slightly. Her lips parted, like she was about to say something—
And then the stupid intercom buzzed.
Natasha's eyes snapped away, jaw tightening as she pressed to answer. It was security, asking if she was still here.
Just like that, the moment shattered.
I sat up, heart still racing, wiping my palms on my pants.
"Go home, Y/N," Natasha muttered, eyes back on her phone. Her tone was sharper now, like armour being put back on. "We're done for the night."