"Natasha Romanoff." Natasha extended her hand, her Russian accent lazy and seductive. "I've heard so much about you."
Looking at the angelic face identical to Scarlett Johansson's before him, Hawk almost burst out laughing.
He took her hand, his thumb lightly caressing her palm, his smile deepening: "Ms. Romanoff, your name... seems more suited for a certain intelligence file in Moscow than a Wall Street gala."
Natasha's eyelashes fluttered slightly, but her smile didn't waver: "Finance and intelligence, sometimes the lines are blurry, aren't they?"
"Indeed." Hawk leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Just like your goal tonight—are you here to steal my trade secrets, or..." His gaze lingered on her red lips for a moment. "...something else?"
Natasha chuckled, her fingertip lightly tracing his tie: "Perhaps I'm just curious what kind of man can make Bates Capital vanish in three weeks."
"A man's secrets shouldn't be casually probed, Ms. Romanoff." Hawk gently shook his head, chuckling: "Unless you offer your secrets in exchange."
"A fair trade." Natasha smiled, raising her glass, seemingly very interested in Hawk's offer, even pondering what secrets she might have.
Suddenly, Romanoff seemed to recall something. She ambiguously poked Hawk's chest, her voice laced with seduction, and whispered: "Actually, I'm an international intelligence broker. If Mr. Hawk has any valuable information, it could fetch a good price, or I could exchange it for equivalent intelligence."
"Wow, cool!" Hawk put on an exaggerated expression. "Well, I do have a secret. I wonder how much it's worth?"
Romanoff showed an interested expression, making a "please" gesture.
Hawk cautiously looked around, as if genuinely afraid of leaking a secret, then cleared his throat and whispered:
"I'm... 185 cm tall, 100 kg, eight-pack abs, 25 cm..."
"Wait a minute..." Natasha was amused, suddenly leaning closer, asking curiously: "You really have 25 cm?"
Looking at the approaching Natasha, Hawk observed closely; this woman was indeed beautiful, with clear, watery blue eyes, a high nose bridge, rosy lips, a sexy and alluring demeanor, and a hint of cuteness in her enigmatic smile.
"Absolutely genuine, no deception."
"Mmm-hmm." Natasha took a sip of her mojito, her red lips slightly parted, full of charm. "Mr. Hawk, I don't think this is the place to discuss business. I hope we can delve deeper into this matter."
She casually picked up a dessert tart, her moist red lips gently biting into it, revealing an intoxicated expression. The captivating look she gave Hawk was quite alluring.
It made a young man like Hawk feel a bit restless, and he cursed inwardly, thinking, *As expected of a vixen who's lived for so long, the older they get, the more uninhibited they become.*
Two hours later, Lane Tower gym.
Natasha was in tears...
She was currently showering in the bathroom.
Her phone, left outside, rang. Hawk, wiping sweat, picked it up and handed it into the bathroom.
"It's someone named Coulson."
"Got it."
Natasha took the phone. "Hello, Coulson."
"Where are you? I can't find you. Why does your voice sound a bit strange? A little hoarse."
"It's nothing serious, just choked a bit while drinking earlier, my throat's a little uncomfortable, no big deal."
Natasha covered her throat and coughed.
"I'm in the gym upstairs. Drank too much earlier, came to sober up."
"Sobering up in the gym?" Coulson, who was responsible for external support, was bewildered. What kind of operation was this?
"That's right, I just did some Smith squats! I'm showering now."
Hawk, listening from outside, couldn't help but marvel at Natasha's professionalism. She had indeed done some Smith squats. Mixing truth with lies, even a fool couldn't tell.
Coulson, of course, knew that Natasha was a fitness fanatic, often hitting the gym when not on missions, and Smith squats were a common exercise for her, primarily targeting the glutes, outer thighs, and adductor muscles.
Although it was a bit strange, he didn't ask further.
After the call, Natasha finished her shower, walked out leaning on the wall, and glared fiercely at Hawk.
The two dressed neatly, tidied up, and then entered the elevator together.
"So, Mr. Hawk, can you now reveal how you managed to take down Bates Capital in just over half a month?" Natasha smoothed her recently dried hair, her eyes full of allure.
Unfortunately, Hawk was currently in a state of post-coital clarity, unaffected by any debuffs, unless given another minute to recover.
"Just lucky." Hawk shrugged, subtly taking half a step back. "However, if S.H.I.E.L.D. is interested in my 'luck,' Director Fury could just ask me out for coffee directly. Why send the famous Black Widow to my bed?"
Natasha's pupils suddenly constricted, and she paused, but her smile remained perfect: "It seems Mr. Lane's intelligence network is quite formidable."
Hawk shook his head. "For example, I know you have a miniature communicator hidden in your ear, a ceramic dagger strapped to your right leg, and your perfume—" He leaned in slightly, sniffing her neck. "—contains trace amounts of neurotoxin. Unfortunately, it's ineffective on me."
Natasha's smile finally froze for a moment, but quickly recovered: "It seems tonight's 'game' is more interesting than I thought."
"Game?" Hawk chuckled. "No, Natasha, this isn't a game."
He suddenly reached out, wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his embrace, his thin lips almost touching her earlobe. "As S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, you should know this world is quite dangerous."
Natasha's breath hitched slightly, but the next second, her fingertips were already pressed against his throat: "And you? Hawk Lane, whose side are you on?"
Hawk didn't dodge, but instead smiled: "I'm on the side of maximizing profit."
Suddenly, the elevator stopped before reaching the top floor.