Chapter 2

The reception Cross was giving for Hammer Industries as part of the new 'relationship' that was being brokered between them was starting to make Clint want to crawl out of his skin. He didn't like hobnobbing with the 'elite' members of society at the best of times, so doing it when he was also trying to maintain deep cover and suss out the motivations of perhaps the world's deadliest assassin was starting to give him a migraine. It didn't help that William Cross and Justin Hammer seemed intent on trying to out-douche each other. If he had to witness one more bit of glad-handing one-upmanship between them, all in the name of collegial good cheer of course, he was going to puke.

Well, might as well wash the bad taste down with another swig of bourbon. The ice in Clint's glass clinked as he swirled the remnants of his drink before downing it in one long gulp. He gritted his teeth as the harsh liquid coursed down his throat and wondered how bad of an idea it would be for him to go to the bar for another. Given his circumstances and personal history probably a pretty bad one.

"Is it the alcohol or the company?" asked a voice playfully from behind him and Clint turned with a newly pasted smile on his face to look directly into the sparkling jade eyes of 'Laura Matthers'.

He made sure to let his eyes wander over her form-fitting party dress before opining, "I can guarantee you that I have no complaints at all about the present company."

Matthers had the good grace to blush as she looked down demurely and smiled. She leaned into Clint conspiratorially and stage whispered, "I'm not a big fan of these things either. They cut into my working-after-hours-to-get-all-of-my-projects-done time." She shrugged. "I guess that's what weekends are for, right?"

He nodded in return, his smile perhaps a touch more genuine as he let himself look at her more closely. Dammit but she was a beauty, her cascading crimson ringlets the perfect frame for her milky skin and the sparkling green lustre of her wide eyes. Clint almost shook his head as his grin tightened once more. What the hell was he doing? He told himself to shake himself the fuck out of whatever was going through his poor excuse for a brain. Was he some damn newbie on his first mission? If he was going to let a pretty face, no matter how outlandishly beautiful, turn his head then he might as well let the Widow knife him in the throat now and save them both a lot of trouble.

"At times like that," he drawled with a wink, "I just tell myself that there has to be some benefit to coming into the office." He made sure to let his gaze rest meaningfully on her face for a few lingering seconds before he sighed and looked at his drink. "This," he said with a shake of his head, "isn't really helping with everything else though."

"Not interested in climbing the corporate ladder?" asked Matthers with as she tilted her head towards the place where Cross and Hammer were holding court with an entourage of sycophants.

"Let's just say I also have enough waiting for me on my desk to make even the most pleasant of social situations seem like a bad idea. And this," he said waving his empty glass at the scene before him, "hardly qualifies as pleasant. Still…the new head of security can't be seen to be remiss with two such luminaries as William Cross and Justin Hammer in attendance now can he?"

"No indeed," said Matthers, taking a slow sip from her own drink, something sweet and fruity by the look of it, "and at least Mr. Cross has sprung for the high end stuff."

Clint smiled again and was about to see if he could get a further read on the Black Widow in order to ascertain what had prompted the sudden change from ice queen to sympathetic co-worker when she apparently beat him to the punch. Allowing an uncomfortable grimace to appear on her face Matthers glanced down at her drink. She seemed to make an internal decision and then looked up at him again, her features conveying nothing but open sincerity. "I think…that is," she stopped herself before starting again. "I'm worried that I may have given you a bad first impression when we met."

Clint raised one of his eyebrows enquiringly, but didn't say anything.

She gave a small huff, "That is, I think we started things off on the wrong foot." She gazed directly into his eyes, her own narrowing slightly as a small smile curved on one side of her full lips. "I'm afraid you caught me on a bad day…a bad week really," she admitted, shaking her head ruefully. "You see I never really got along with your predecessor and I was in the middle of a deadline for a project that was already a week behind and had to be finalized *now*. You know how it is." She continued to hold his gaze, her look turning the statement almost into a question.

"Sure I do no problem at all." Clint responded with a smile. "Really no apology is necessary, I didn't even notice that there was anything to apologize for, but it sure is darn nice of you to say so Ms. Matthers."

"Please, call me Laura," she said with a tilt of her head and pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"It'll be my pleasure…Laura. And please, call me Alvin"

"Ok Alvin, I um," she paused for a moment.

"Yes?"

Before Clint could find out what she wanted to say they were interrupted by a nasal voice that forced them both to turn and look directly into the faces of William Cross and Justin Hammer.

"And here she is Justin as requested," said Cross with a wave of his hand, "apparently in deep conversation with our new security chief. Benton," said Cross with a dismissive nod of his head to Clint before turning his full attention to Matthers. " The secret of my success," he whined with a smile even more disingenuous than the ones he normally wore. "My personal assistant Laura Matthers whose beauty, I assure you, is only surpassed by her industry."

Hammer didn't even bother pretending like he had any interest in greeting Clint and pushed past him to get closer to Matthers his lop-sided smirk transparently conveying his inner thoughts. "I can certainly see why you keep her around, Bill. I'll bet she's most able to 'assist' you in all of your 'personal' needs." He somehow managed to insert air quotes purely through his tone of voice.

Even Cross seemed a bit put-out by his lack of subtlety.

To her credit the Black Widow didn't let her smile falter. She flipped her hair and acted as though she thought Hammer had said something genuinely witty. "Well, when you have a boss as efficient and easy to deal with as Mr. Cross everything really just takes care of itself."

Hammer waggled his eyebrows, unable to tear his gaze away from Cross' PA. "Oh, I'll bet it does." His leer had become so wide that he was making Clint's own previous attempts at conveying ill-concealed lust seem like the subtlest of hints in comparison. Man, this guy was a douche. Clint was just trying to decide whether his cover persona would be more likely to laugh or scowl at Hammer when Cross stepped in and grabbed his wayward guest by the elbow.

"Yes, well come with me Justin I have a few things to discuss with you about that project we were talking about earlier."

"Wha-?" mumbled Hammer, finally tearing his eyes away from Matthers and reluctantly allowing himself to be steered away. "Oh, yeah right, that Star-…star attraction of your development," he ended lamely.

Cross pursed his lips, sparing a quick glance for Matthers and Benton before walking away, "Yes, of course, our 'star attraction'. Matthers, Benton," he nodded to each of them as he walked away, Hammer in tow.

Damn, he'd heard Justin Hammer was pretty stupid, but that took the cake. So they both had an interest in Stark's technology, whatever it was, did they? He had also noticed that the Widow's shoulders had tightened almost imperceptibly at Hammer's near-slip. So…at least now he knew what her specific interest was in Cross Industries. It looked like they had more in common than he had initially thought. Strange how things were dove-tailing so neatly, almost like fate was stepping in to hand him both assignments on a silver platter. Well, except for the fact that the Widow could put him down at close-quarters without even breaking a sweat and he still had no idea what the project specs entailed or why the Red Room apparently wanted the Widow overlooking it. That last part especially made him nervous.

Clint turned back to Matthers and grimaced, "Well, uh, quite a fellow that Justin Hammer, isn't he? You handled that well."

She shrugged, "Part of the job I'm afraid. Sometimes men in this industry have a skewed view of what they can expect from a woman in the office."

Clint nodded and made sympathetic noises, aware of what a douche bag he was making himself look like as a result. He noticed that she kept glancing towards the place where Hammer and Cross were now involved in an animated discussion, far from any hangers-on.

"But before we were interrupted you had something to say?"

She smiled, placing her hand on his arm for a moment and letting it linger before she said, "Sorry, but I think Mr. Cross needs me. He's not always up on the details with so many projects on the go these days. A PA's job is never done." Her smile deepened, "I hope we can continue our conversation later, though."

"Oh, I look forward to it," replied Clint, glancing down at her hand before shifting his gaze to Cross and Hammer as she walked away. He wondered what move she would pull to get in close to the conversation without looking like she was intruding. He didn't think she'd have a problem.

Clint sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Maybe he would get that second drink after all.

The following days were something of a blur for Clint. He had been granted a short meeting with William Cross himself, hoping he could glean something of interest about his pet project from it, but it had amounted to nothing more than a fifteen minute extended monologue by Cross on the importance of security in the world of IT . As far as the man himself went Clint had left the meeting unimpressed. Cross struck him as little more than a weaselly wash-out as a spook who had fallen into his family's business as a fallback plan and took himself way too seriously. At least the guy was only half as annoying as that jackass wunderkind Tony Stark. He didn't have enough money yet to be anything other than a pale imitation.

With the top echelon of the company proving a dead end at this point he got busy double checking all of the personnel files to which he had access and digging deeper into any new projects at R & D under cover of verifying the efficiency of his new procedures in the hopes that some red flag would pop up regarding the 'star attraction' project he had been set loose on. He was also trying to get a line on Laura Matthers' schedule and her real reason for being there. Why the hell would the Red Room send their top agent, specializing in seduction and assassination, to keep an eye on a company owned by what all of SHIELD's intel said was a staunch ally? Had things changed? Was there something about the stolen Stark tech that the Red Room felt required a more hands on approach? Or was the Widow playing some game of her own? So far nothing conclusive, or even interesting, had panned out on either front. Strange how the head of security wasn't able to find any records of a project that was apparently so high profile for the owner and that was even cause for a new partnership with another firm, but that just made him more nervous about what he'd find out about it once it was uncovered. He was hoping that keeping very close eyes on the Widow would ultimately to lead him to the answers he needed. Luckily she had just made that a hell of a lot easier for him to do. Of course that in itself was a worrisome fact.

What had made Romanoff go from ice cold to warm and friendly in such short order? Clint played through the last few days in his mind. The only thing he could think of was the meeting with Coulson. Had she been following him then? Even if she had surely they hadn't given anything away, they had done everything by the book. Shit. Well, if she was going to go full Black Widow on him already then it either meant she was bored or she had seen through his cover. The best he could hope for was that she wasn't absolutely sure yet, or that even if she was that it wasn't in the best interests of her mission parameters to try and kill the new head of security…yet. Either way it wasn't an enviable situation to be in and it meant moving up his timetable considerably.

Clint sighed, running his hand over his face and through his hair in a gesture of pure annoyance. He really should have maintained his usual distance on this op. Why the hell had he let himself come in close where he was vulnerable and would be allowing the Widow play up to her strongest skill set? He thought back to the things he had seen in the months before this mission even became a possibility. He also thought about what he had seen in the weeks immediately leading up to it. Something was off with her. Something wasn't clear in the picture. He didn't like lack of clarity and he knew the key was Romanoff. He wanted some answers before he ended the story.

He was just shutting down his computer and trying to decide what take-out to bring with him on his stake-out of the Widow's apartment when a voice at the doorway startled him.

"Mr. Benton, do you have a minute?"

He looked up quickly only to see the object of his most recent obsession standing on the threshold of his office. Her head was tilted against an arm that was suggestively raised above her along the doorframe. She had been utterly silent in her approach. He'd have to remember that.

Clint made a point of letting his gaze follow the curves of her body, appreciatively taking in her provocatively low cut blouse and tight pencil skirt. He didn't have too much trouble getting into character. Damn, was she really only twenty one years old? She certainly managed to carry herself with a confidence and allure that belied her youth. He was going to have to watch himself.

"Alvin," he said reprovingly, a look of mock disapproval in his eyes, "I thought we had agreed on that, Laura."

The smile the Widow allowed to creep across her lips made something tighten in Clint's gut…and a little lower down. He really was going to have to watch himself. "Sorry…Alvin." She looked behind her into the hallway outside his office before turning back to him. "I just didn't want to appear inappropriate in the office. You know how people can talk."

"Indeed I do," he replied, "but let's not let small minds hamper a good thing. Please," he said motioning her to one of his office chairs, "have a seat."

"Thanks," she replied, smiling enticingly as she lowered herself to the offered chair.

"To what do I owe this exquisite pleasure," he asked almost letting himself wink as he sat on the edge of his desk. Damn, he was laying it on thick, but with a mark like the Black Widow, it was either go all in or play it shy otherwise she might suspect something was up, and Clint never played it shy.

She raised her head again and looked him in the eye. He would have said that something smouldered there if her look had left him with coherent words. "We never did finish our conversation at the reception."

"Well now that's true, isn't it? I believe the ball was in your court."

"Oh is it?" she asked with a grin, "well then I might as well cut to the chase. What do you say we get a drink tonight?"

"I have been known to partake," he mused, "but what would HR say if they found out? I haven't even gotten past my probationary period in the new job yet. I doubt they'd be too happy if I start breaking workplace fraternization rules already, and with the boss' PA no less."

"Alvin," she said reprovingly, "am I really supposed to believe that that will be an issue for you?" She had a way of arching her brow in the most provocative way.

"No," he replied with an easy smile, "no I guess you're not, really."

"Good. Then you can pick me up at 8." The sway in her hips as she left was nothing short of exhilarating as she flashed him a small smile over her shoulder.

He waited until she had turned the corner in the hallway beyond before he let the smile on his own face fall away. So that was it, was it? The Black Widow was coming out to play. The heat was on and Clint had better step up his game before he found himself enmeshed in a web from which he couldn't extricate himself. Eventually he let out a heavy breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Well if that was the case then perhaps it was high time for Hawkeye to come off the leash.