My Boss - Natasha Romanoff x Reader

The Dress

Y/N POV

It was almost seven o'clock when I arrived at my empty dorm with Chinese takeout. My friends would've been in Cabo San Lucas for over forty-eight hours now and drunk more than half that time. I sighed, stripping off my bland button-down blouse and tossing it on the floor. I'd just changed into my pajamas when my cell phone rang with my Dad's smiling picture.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hey, Superstar. How'd it go today?"

I shrugged. "Fine. It was mostly boring, mindless projects. I never realized Natasha was so uptight, though."

He chuckled lightly through the phone. "She takes business seriously. I doubt she's too keen about employing her boss's 19 year old daughter for a few weeks. If I were anyone else, she wouldn't have considered it."

"Why not?" I asked, my shoulders straightening. Natasha had seemed more bothered by my outfit than my age.

"That position is for a woman whose career is being a secretary. Not a kid trying to earn a few bucks. Honey I told you I'd be happy to let you work for me here in L.A. You know mom misses you too."

I sat at my desk, which doubled as a dining table, and picked at something invisible on its surface. "No, Dad, it's okay really. I wanna do this the right way. Like you said, I can't rely on your money forever. Besides, what could possibly be so hard about a secretarial job?"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, Y/N." I pursed my lips. Mom and Dad expected me to go above and beyond in school and I'd always delivered. My first job shouldn't be any different.

"I'll give her a call," Dad continued. "See if I can't get her to ease up."

"No," I blurted. "It's fine. I just didn't know she was like that. I thought she was, like, cooler."

"Before her relationship, she was more devoted to that job than her own partner. After they spilt, she took it to an inhuman level. Everything she does is for that company. She makes time for me when I fly to New York, but it's because I'm one of her only friends and I don't do it often."

"Yeah and because you're her boss, Dad." I pulled at my bottom lip. Natasha had still been at the office when she'd dismissed me for the night, and I'd only seen her leave long enough for a meeting partway through the day.

"But you're just a temp, Y/N. I don't mind telling her to lighten up on you."

"No," I said, my mind made up. If Natasha Romanoff thought that job was too much for a nineteen-year-old, I'd prove her wrong-I'd be the best damn secretary that office had ever seen. "It's just a few weeks. I can take it."

"All right, then. Your call. Your mother says hello."

"Ask her why she sent me to Ann Taylor for work stuff. I'm the youngest one in the office by probably ten years, but I look the frumpiest."

"We've talked about this," Dad said in his attempt at a stern tone. "You need to cut back on the shopping. It's enough that we're paying all your expenses on top of your tuition. Don't you have a little money saved from your allowance? We don't give you $1,000 a week for nothing."

I glanced at the blouse on the floor, wondering why I cared when everyone I knew was gone the whole week. "Never mind," I said. "I'm there to save money, not spend it. I'll make it work."

"And, um—how are you, you know, feeling?"

I sighed. "Fine, I guess. Work is actually a good distraction. I only thought about Carol about a million times, which is an improvement."

"It'll get easier," he said. "I know sometimes breakups can seem like the end of the world, but trust me, you'll get over it quicker than you think. And even if you don't, I know a guy."

I shook my head. It didn't matter. Once Carol saw me in the dress, everything would change.

When I hung up the phone, I checked my texts, e-mails, and missed calls. Even though Carol was out of the country, I was tempted to send her a message. I'd hoped she'd have realized her mistake by now and called. I sniffled back the tears trying to break through, checking one last time to make sure I hadn't overlooked anything.

Fight it as I did, I couldn't help picturing her sprawled out under the Mexican sun with all our friends-tan, laughing, and chugging ice-cold Pacifico from the bottle. I should've been there too, but when she dumped me the week before we were supposed to leave, one of us had to stay behind.

The answer to getting her back was the dress. A few days earlier, during a well-deserved session of retail therapy, I'd locked myself in an oversized, white dressing room and stepped into gold. That's when I found the cure to my despair. The gilded sequins illuminated my tan, and my illuminated tan made me look thinner, fitter, and radiant. It hugged in all the right places. It was a miracle dress. Against the sparkling metallic shine, my brown hair was silky, smooth, and bright. But I had already blown my money on new outfits for our trip. So Dad decided to turn my unlimited credit card to - well - limited.

The night after I'd tried it on and been denied the money by my parents, Dad had offered a temporary position at his company in exchange for the money to buy it — the universe wanted me to have that dress. It wanted me to knock Carol Danvers off her feet so I could be there to help her back up.