"I don't understand why you won't give me this one thing."

Sharon's voice had taken on a nasal quality that grated on Clint Barton's nerves. Of course, the entire argument was an annoyance he shouldn't be bothered with. They had an agreement for a reason. He clenched his teeth and worked the muscle in his jaw. He was choosing his words carefully, not wanting the conversation to devolve any further. "I'm going to assume you didn't mean to imply that I don't provide you with everything you need."

Her full bottom lip curled out in a pout and she batted her eyelashes at him. "You know I didn't mean that, baby. You take such good care of me."

He arched a brow but didn't bother to respond. The monthly credit card bill made it evident she was more than taken care of. He crossed the room to look out the window, putting her at his back. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was time to end this. Sharon could be difficult at times, but did it outweigh the time and effort he would have to put into finding a new companion? He sighed. God, I sound like a miserable bastard, he thought. Though he tried not to think about it too hard as he was far from happy with his current situation.

Small hands ran over the back of his jacket and across his shoulders. He resisted the urge to shrug off her touch.

"Look, we've been seeing each other for a while now. My father thinks it time the two of you meet, that's all." She'd curbed her tone to sound more reasonable and less whiney, but it was all a game. Everything that came from her mouth was calculated to get what she wanted. It probably should have bothered him more than it did, but he knew what she was when they started this.

He turned to face her. "The only reason he wants to meet me is you've led him to believe that we're more than what we are. You should have told your parents that this was a casual relationship."

Her lips pursed and she huffed as she turned away from him to snatch her drink off the table. "They aren't likely to believe that when I'm living with you."

"We do not live together. You've never even seen my house and I'm barely ever here. I hate this apartment."

Her brow furrowed as if this was news to her, though he'd mentioned it before. "What?"

He shrugged. "It's cold. Impersonal." Everything in the apartment was chrome and shades of gray. Nothing about it remotely said home to him.

"Why didn't you say anything? I thought you'd approve. The designer I hired was one of the best."

"I did say something, but I'm not the one living here, Sharon. If this makes you happy, so be it." He raked a hand through his hair.

Her scowl slid into a sly smile. "See, I knew you cared about my happiness." She sauntered back over to him and slipped her free hand into the front of his jacket. "You want everyone to think you're so cool and unmovable, but you're such a good boyfriend, Clint."

Panic crawled up his spine when she called him her boyfriend. That wouldn't do at all. He grasped her upper arms and moved her back away from him. "That's not what this is and you know it. Quite frankly, I'm getting tired of having to remind you."

"Why are you like this?" Tears welled in her eyes.

Clint didn't even bother to hide his eye roll. The tears were about as real as the rest of her. "I'm the same as I was the day you met me."

She slammed her glass down before crossing her arms over her chest. "That's precisely the problem. By now I thought you would have come around to the idea of us. We're perfect together. Why can't you see that?"

"Don't."

"Don't what? Don't love you? It's too late for that."

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. He pulled out his phone and began to send a series of texts. Without looking at her, he spoke. "We're done here, Sharon. Tonight signals the end of our agreement. This is over."

"You're breaking up with me because I told you that I love you?" Her voice was low, little more than a whisper.

He bit back the harsher words he wanted to say. This was a business arrangement, nothing more. He wouldn't let her get to him. "You don't love me and don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise. You love my money. Not that I expect you to know the difference."

Her glare might have made a lesser man pause, but Clint barely acknowledged it. "You can't do this to me. I'll tell everyone the truth. I'll let them know the kind of man you are."

His brows lifted and his mouth twitched at the threat. He licked his lips. "You signed a contract that forbids you from doing precisely that. Do it and you'll hear from my attorneys. Besides, do you really want to tell everyone that you agreed to be in a relationship with me in exchange for money? I don't think it's me people will be judging."

She stomped her foot and growled in frustration. His eyes followed her as she paced angrily across the floor. Suddenly, she snapped back toward him. "I'll tell them you hit me."

Anger flared through him then, hot and hungry. His shoulders rolled back and his spine went rigid. "You want to repeat that?"

Sharon ran her gaze over him and whatever she saw must have been enough to make her rethink her words. She shook her head. "I deserve more than this. I deserve better."

"You deserve nothing. I have paid your every expense for the past eight months in exchange for you decorating my arm in public and a few nights in a lukewarm bed. I was clear from the beginning that was all this was. All it would ever be. I am not responsible for your delusions."

"But it's not a delusion. You really care for me, I can tell."

He felt a twinge of sympathy for her until she continued.

"Please don't cut me off. I need you."

"As you've just made abundantly clear, you need my money. Not me. Frankly, you aren't worth the headache anymore. I'll give you three days to vacate the apartment. You may take personal belongings only. Everything else is to remain." It was harsher than he intended to be, but apparently it was needed in this situation.

Her arms dropped to her sides as she gaped at him. "You can't expect me to just leave. This is my apartment."

"No, it's my apartment. You really should read your contract, sweetheart." And with those words, he turned and left. He slammed the door on her cursing his name and took the stairs two at a time down to the garage.

As his driver opened the door to the car for him, Clint smiled. He felt lighter than he had in weeks. Yes, Sharon was a weight he should have done away with some time ago.

"Is Miss Carter not joining us?" Scott asked and Clint didn't miss the way the corner of the man's mouth kicked up. His driver had never cared for Sharon and the feeling was mutual.

"Miss Carter will not be joining us ever again," Clint answered as he slid onto the back seat. He could have sworn he heard Scott mutter 'thank fuck' before he shut the door. Clint chuckled and finished sending the emails he needed to make sure the flow of money in Sharon's direction stopped.

His relief was only dampened by the fact he would have to find a new companion or he'd be right back to dodging money hungry women in no time. One soul-crushing relationship in a lifetime was enough. He had no desire to ever repeat the experience.

***

Once he arrived home, he dismissed Scott and entered through the kitchen door at the side of the house. He jerked to a stop when his eyes fell on Wanda sitting at the table with a pint of ice cream in front of her. Though she was scowling at the food in front of her, she wasn't crying. Clint could handle anything as long as she didn't start crying. Despite her obvious upset, he found himself smiling. He was always happy to see his girl. The house had been far too quiet since she moved into her own place closer to school.

He unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged out of it before tossing it over the back of one of the chairs. After that, he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves to reveal several of his tattoos. There. Now, he felt more like himself. He eyed Wanda but she still hadn't acknowledged him beyond lifting her spoon in a wave. Moving to the fridge, he grabbed a couple of beers and went to join her at the table. He offered her one but she made a face.

"Beer and ice cream? Yuck."

He grinned and cracked his open. After taking a long swallow, he sat the bottle on the table. "Lay it on me."

"It's not a big deal. I'm just a little bummed." She rested her chin in her hand with a sigh.

"If it's not a big deal, why did you drive all the way over here to eat my ice cream?"

She scoffed and narrowed her eyes at him. "Since when do you like pistachio?"

He shrugged and took another sip of his beer. "Talk to me. Who do I need to kill?"

That got him a laugh and his heart lightened considerably.

She shook her head and said your name as if that explained everything.

Clint's chest tightened a little at the mention of you. You'd been a fixture in their lives since high school. He'd gotten used to having you around. Sometime in the last couple of years, he'd realized his feelings for you had shifted. Once he had, he'd done his best to stomp them into the ground and when that failed to work entirely, he started to avoid you. "Did you two have a fight?"

Wanda's brow furrowed. "Of course not. We're just not getting the apartment together anymore."

He leaned back in his chair with a frown. The two of you had been planning on being roommates forever but it wasn't practical with you in business school. Your change in majors had come with a transfer to Wanda's college so now was the perfect time. "Well, why not?" Clint prompted when she didn't continue on her own.

"Her father refuses to pay for anything unless she goes back to business school. He's kicking her out of her apartment and cutting her off completely. She planned on financial aid covering her expenses but they won't give her any money since her dad makes too much," she told him quickly without taking a breath.

"Fucking Rumlow," Clint muttered. He hated that man and still didn't understand how the two of you could have the same genes. "She doesn't have to pay for her portion of the apartment, Wanda. You know I don't care about that."

She pointed at him with her spoon. "I know that and I told her as much, but she won't do it. She can't afford her classes much less her half of an apartment. They offered her all the hours she wanted at the diner but she won't do that either. She'll think it's taking advantage of their kindness. You know how she is. I think she's going to get another job. I'm never going to see her."

Clint sipped at his beer as he mulled over the situation. If it was up to him, he would just pay for your tuition and your half of the apartment, but Wanda was right. You wouldn't take it. You were one of the best people he knew and you certainly didn't deserve any of this. Maybe he should call Rumlow and have a few words with him. He doubted that would have any affect on the situation, but he couldn't think of what else to do.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. A glance at the screen showed a text from Natasha wanting to verify he and his plus one would be attending a charity gala on Friday evening. He started to type back a reply but froze, his thumb hovering over the phone. He'd just had a fantastic, horrible idea. He slipped his phone back into his pocket without responding.

You needed money, which he could provide. And he needed someone with a flexible schedule to attend events with him. Go to the occasional dinner. Someone to make him appear unavailable. You were always ready and anxious to help where needed. If he explained this right, maybe both of you could end up with what you needed. And if it meant he spent more time with you, he wouldn't complain. He could manage to keep his hands to himself while you enjoyed each other's company. He'd been practicing for years now.

He cleared his throat, catching Wanda's attention. He met her eye and smiled. "Have her come by the office and see me tomorrow. I might be able to help her out."