"I want someone who can do it all, but I have to be able to trust them with my life and they gotta just get me, ya know?" He still seemed smug with his arms crossed as you spoke, a smirk pulling at his mouthhole, even after that impossible request, and you narrowed your eyes on him, "You already have someone, don't you, you sly bastard? Well, go on! Don't keep us waiting."
"Maria Hill."
You raised your eyebrows, "I'm listening."
"Has a masters in media and communications that she got from Harvard where she graduated top of her class – has worked with high profile actors under the radar and there's a reason you've never heard of her," Tony shrugged nonchalantly, "She's practically a ghost and doesn't pester her clients – she knows what they want before they do, and she gets shit done."
"I love her."
"She has a salary of three hundred grand a year per client, but she only takes on two at a time – she dropped Hammer a month before his...interests got out, and you have a meeting with her in twenty minutes," He gave you a look, "Don't blow this. She only takes on clients with dirt she can bury while keeping her morals and since she agreed, you obviously don't have many skeletons in your closet."
"Damn, this be intense, Toneblerone."
"I'm serious, Y/n," He seemed serious, "She's not as good as Pepper, but she's fucking close."
"I'm sweating."
"You're going to be late, she's in my office."
You gave him a stiff nod, smoothed down your clothes, and hurried off towards his office a few floors up, slipping into the room to stop short in surprise when you saw a dark-haired woman sitting in his chair, messing with his computer. You slowly shut the door and then sat down in a chair opposite, waiting for her to finish whatever it was.
"Y/n Stark, twenty-six years old, lives alone, but has a steady girlfriend after they suffered a brutal breakup, worth just over a billion dollars after only about seven years in the music industry, and yet," Her dark eyes flicked to yours, her expression unreadable, and damn, you needed to remember how to breathe as she looked away, "She decides one day to fall off the map. Slashing her internet presence in half, breaking deals with big company names, dropping an album at random months later but not touring it, and finally," She gave you a calculated look, "Back, looking for new representation, after suing and or firing her old ones. Oh, and she wants three dogs. Maybe a few kids. But for right now, some Cheetos."
You grinned, completely infatuated, "Hi."
"Nice to meet you in person." She told you flatly, unimpressed.
You cleared your throat, "Sooooo, I'm Y/n."
She gave you a 'no shit' look before, "Maria Hill."
"I like your suit. It," You paused, leaning forward in your seat and smirking too much according to her expression, "Suits you."
She gave you a slightly horrified look of disgust and you cleared your throat.
"Um," You hated awkward silences, so you picked up the slack, "When will hire me? Or – no. I want...you," You shook your head, this was coming out all wrong, but she was staring you down and you've said before you be weak with gorgeous women – not that she's. I mean, yeah, but you're a loyal sonovabish, "I'd like to-"
"Don't finish that."
You nodded, that was fair, "Alright."
She narrowed her eyes, considering something, and you tapped a little beat on your legs with your fingertips, filling your closed mouthhole with air a few times, puffing out your cheeks as you waited.
"You're annoying, but I trust you."
You raised your eyebrows, surprised, "You trust me? Wait, so you'll do it?"
"I have some questions first," She pursed her lips, resting her forearms on the desk, and you nodded for her to continue – you needed her, but you were oddly suspicious that she might already know the answers to the next questions by how she asked them, "Who do you have on your team? Who're you paying salaries for since everything blew up?"
"Alright," You took a deep breath, "Well, there's the chef and my two housekeepers in Italy, several gardeners, my choreographer – didn't have the heart to let him go, my bandmates, and Paul. Probably leaving out a few, but yeah."
"And your...associates." She added and you furrowed your eyebrows with a frown.
"Sorry?"
"Tony gave me your account statements – what do you think 'expenditures' means? It's that group of people who cram you into a tiny room, sit around a table filled with papers and computers, and ask you where you want to perform to book your schedule every year."
You frowned down at yourself, "Those rooms are always weirdly small."
"And half your band left."
You pressed your lips together before gritting out, "Thanks for the reminder."
"Atlas is still in – heard Maximoff's giving her wealth back into her city, so I think the work she's doing there will convince her to keep playing as a hobby."
"You've – you talked to Atlas? Why?"
She gave you another dead glare, "If you want me to take the job, I need a couple more questions answered."
You let out a deep breath, "Fine. What else?"
"Do you ever plan to tour again?"
You had thought about it already, "Maybe. But it wouldn't be for any specific future album. Just like small, fan focused tours with a mix of songs, and only one country at a time, a few weeks off in between. And only two weeks of touring at a time. Such like that."
She smirked, amused, "Romanoff's already turned you domestic, hasn't she?"
You mirrored her smirk, "I've always wanted to be and it's the best feeling when I'm – wait, you know about Natasha? You know I'm gæ?"
"Everyone does. Except the public. Some of them only suspect it after that post and how you act performing or some of your lyrics. And the lack of specific pronouns you use in interviews."
You slumped back into your chair, "Alright. Next question, I guess."
"Not really a question, but you'll have to cut off your 'expenditures' if you want me to take this job. I work alone and I don't trust many people."
Not much to consider there since most of them were pricks anyway, "Done."
"Good," She stood up, offering her hand and giving you a tight smile, so you immediately stood to shake it – her hand, not your ass, there's a time and place – which is always, but anyway, "I'll start right away."
Now that the business side of your career was settled and you were leaving to have lunch with your mother and Natasha so they could meet, there was really only one thing left to do.
Ask the woman you're in love with probably the most important question you could think of.
And you pray she'll say yes.
