Chapter 107: Ada: Here It Comes!
Matthew was still looking at the envelope Natasha had extended toward him, and had not moved to take it.
Ada picked it up for him, reached around and pressed two fingers into his lower back, and announced in a helpful voice: "Boss. Jessica is talking to you."
Ada had never imagined that someone else would have the nerve to use the exact same approach: specifically, tying up the real Jessica and taking her place. Which meant this was now the second time in Jessica's employment history that she had been restrained to prevent her from starting a job at Umbrella. The woman's professional life was genuinely cursed. First time, Ada had done it. This time, the person in front of them had done it. Jessica had yet to successfully complete a first day anywhere at this company.
Ada thought all of this very clearly and said none of it. She wanted to see what Matthew did with the situation this time.
Matthew took the envelope from Ada and gave her a look that communicated something specific without requiring words.
The look said: why do all of your colleagues use the same approach?
Ada's expression responded with equal precision: how would I know?
They looked at each other briefly. Matthew set the envelope aside without opening it.
He kept the smile from reaching his face through some effort. "So you're Jessica."
"That's right." Natasha nodded.
"Then could you get me a coffee? Hand-ground."
Ada's eyebrow moved in a way she couldn't entirely suppress. She recognized this immediately. The script had resumed. She was watching from the audience this time rather than from the stage, and the shift in perspective gave everything a quality she found she quite enjoyed.
Natasha took the request at face value, having dealt with wealthy entitled employers before, and went to the coffee machine. Her technique was precise and practiced. Even Matthew, who did not drink coffee, could see this objectively.
"You see?" he said quietly toward Ada. "Better than yours."
Ada responded by poking him in the back twice.
Shortly after, a steaming cup was delivered to the desk.
Ada was watching with barely contained anticipation. Here it comes. Here it comes.
Matthew picked up the cup, held it near his nose, set it back down with evident dissatisfaction, and pushed it toward Natasha.
"The water is wrong. I never use the company's purified water for coffee. It has to be Evian mineral water from the commercial zone downstairs. Did Eleanor not tell you this?"
Natasha's internal response was not for external consumption.
Evian. For coffee. You absolute child of luck, had you ever even heard of Evian before you inherited that estate? You spent your whole prior life not drinking coffee with mineral water from France and now you're going to sit there and act like this is a standard requirement? Get out.
Her external response was immediate and professional. "I'm sorry. I'll go downstairs right now."
The moment Natasha cleared the doorway, both Matthew and Ada's composure evaporated completely.
The laughter ran for a full minute.
The door opened again.
Both of them went silent and busy with absolutely nothing of consequence.
Natasha blinked at them with faint confusion. "Is everything all right?"
"Is there something you needed?" Matthew asked with complete neutrality.
"...No. Nothing. I just wanted to ask whether you'd prefer the glass bottle or another format."
"Glass bottle."
"Understood." She retreated and closed the door.
The office resumed its previous state.
The door opened a third time.
Two people apparently absorbed in serious professional discussion.
Natasha had heard the sounds from the hallway. She looked at them.
"Is there something...?"
"I just wanted to clarify. Do you prefer it cold, or room temperature?"
"We're making hot coffee either way. Does the packaging temperature affect that?"
"Fair point. I wasn't thinking it through." She closed the door with quiet finality and went straight downstairs this time, ignoring what she heard behind her.
"Boss," Ada said, still recovering. "You have terrible taste in humor."
Matthew smiled without apology. "And you?"
They looked at each other with the mutual recognition of people who operate at exactly the same frequency.
Ada glanced at the file on the desk. "When are you planning to expose her? Run her in circles for a few days first and then tell her?"
"She's made the effort to come all the way here," Matthew said, with a small shrug. "Why not?"
He thought, not for the first time, that his company was developing a pattern. Agents kept finding their way into the building. At this rate it was going to become less a security division headquarters and more a gathering place for operatives who'd switched sides. If it were up to him he'd put up a sign: this is not SHIELD, we don't need this many moles.
Ada settled herself on the armrest of the chair beside him, her posture carrying a note of deliberateness. "So you're going to run the same routine as last time? Run her around for a while, and then try to bring her on board? She is quite something to look at, after all."
There was an undertone in that last sentence that did not quite match the neutral language.
Matthew either didn't notice it or decided not to. He waved a hand. "Recruit her? She's not someone I can recruit."
"Unlike you, she works for the government." He looked at the file without opening it. "Natasha Romanoff. Trained in the Soviet Union's Red Room, a covert conditioning program for intelligence operatives. She became exceptionally capable. At some point she broke from the Red Room and joined SHIELD. She's genuinely talented, but she's not the kind of person you bring over with a few well-chosen words."
"So my willpower isn't good enough?" Ada tilted her head and looked at him.
"It's not about willpower." Matthew shook his head. "People need different things. What she needs is redemption for the history she's carrying. What you needed was somewhere to belong, somewhere you could actually be what you're capable of being. I could give you that. I can't give her what she needs. So there's no point in trying."
"Oh," Ada said. "So that's what it is."
"What else would it be?"
Footsteps outside. Both of them resumed the posture of people conducting serious professional business. Ada stood and moved a few feet away.
"Your water is ready, Boss." Natasha walked back in.
What followed covered familiar ground.
Except this time Matthew had company in the effort. Between the two of them, Natasha was kept occupied from the first hour of the day to the last, and the tasks she was kept occupied with had almost nothing to do with anything that could reasonably be called assistant work. Trips downstairs for burgers. Trips downstairs for tacos. Delivering a set of clothes that had gotten dirty to the dry cleaner down the street. Eating meals with them. Providing jokes on demand. Making dumplings.
After several days of this, Natasha had begun to seriously wonder whether something had gone wrong with the way she'd gotten into this company. A proper assistant handled professional administrative tasks. She was not supposed to spend the majority of her working hours on food runs. And there was something genuinely absurd about a listed company director asking his assistant to perform stand-up comedy.
Something about this felt off.