When Sasuke first set foot inside the building designated to host the future branch of the Uchiha Enterprises, he was nothing if not surprised.

A tall skyscraper on the outside, steel, glass, and abrupt angles blending together to form the definition of modern architecture, it appeared to be even more stylish on the inside. With marble floors, a mixture of beige and chocolate brown as the dominant chromatics, and the sunlight streaming in from the spotless, floor-to-ceiling windows, the reception area seemed to be something straight out of a magazine specialized in interior design. It greeted him as soon as he stepped through the front doors with a swipe of his new ID: a wide, open plan, with a large desk—hosting several employees—at the back, intimate lounge areas—comprised of light-colored, leather couches and low glass tables—on either side, and only two possible directions: bathrooms to the left, and an array of fast, latest-generation elevators to the right.

He was surprised, without a doubt—but in a pleasant way.

Glancing at the back of his father's head as he walked in front of him, it occurred to him that, perhaps, he needed to give him a little more credit. The simple fact that all he seemed to be interested in was computers—and the company that he had built, from the ground up, based entirely of them—did not necessarily mean there was no room in his mind for anything else—aesthetically pleasing surroundings included. Having inherited his controlling tendencies, as well as the philosophy that nothing could ever turn out well enough unless he rolled up his sleeves and did it himself, Sasuke was one-hundred-percent sure that Fugaku had been the one to point to the building and claim that it was the one. No one else in the entire enterprise had such authority.

Cutting through the middle of the spacious room, both Uchiha men stopped at the large reception desk, where a young woman—Sasuke estimated, in her early twenties—dressed to the nines in a navy uniform, greeted them with a smile. She was tall, with aquamarine eyes hidden behind a pair of rectangular-shaped glasses and sandy blonde hair trapped in a sleek bun on top of her head, and she surprised him with her professionalism. Not once did her gaze wander from the stack of files she placed in front of them or from his own when she addressed him.

After a moment, when he glimpsed the delicate diamond ring adorning her left hand, he was able to make a guess as to what the reason behind her—what he could only call unusual—demeanor was. Regardless of that, though, he allowed himself to breathe out a small sigh of relief. He was about to start a new life in a new city and perhaps he was entitled to hope that everything truly would be different—including women not shoving their breasts into his face whenever they had the opportunity.

He dismissed that as wishful thinking the moment he accidentally made eye contact with the other employee—who immediately and unfailingly grabbed the chance to throw him a sultry glance.

Sasuke wanted to groan.

He did not entirely mind that women threw themselves at him. He would be a hypocrite if he said that. He was, after all, a man—and men in his family were known for their big egos. Having women nothing short of dropping their panties at the sight of his smirk or the sound of his voice was definitely a big plus that made his life much easier and much more pleasant. There was no torturous ordeal that he had to go through; as a teenager and even as a bachelor, if he wanted sex, all he'd ever had to do was leave the house.

Still, even though he knew he would be hated by the majority of his gender if they ever heard his thoughts on the mater, there was a time and a place for everything. His office and his work hours were most definitely not supposed to be used for anything other than what they were actually meant for.

He enjoyed poking fun at his father, and that was fine, but the truth was that Uchiha Enterprises were his life as much as they were Fugaku's.

Women were a distraction—admittedly, a much needed one, at times—but still a distraction, nonetheless, and the truth, as much of an asshole as it made him, was that, when he wasn't interested, the way they threw themselves at him was downright annoying.

They must have signed a couple of dozen papers, between his father and him.

Sasuke had been vice president of the company for three years when it was unanimously decided that an extension was needed—an extension located in an entirely different city that would need an entirely different CEO. He had been the obvious choice, and no one had had a single reason to object.

Needless to say, the young Uchiha was very proud of his accomplishments, and very excited to take his life—and his new company—into his own hands.

"Tell me something I would want to hear this fine morning," a new voice registered in his mind, rising above the hushed chatter of the crowd, standing out among the dozens of people mingling in the reception—perhaps because it was feminine; perhaps because it was soft, and yet so firm at the same time; perhaps because, for some reason, he had a feeling that he had heard it before.

"Mr. Anderson announced that he will not be able to make it to today's meeting," came the answer, and, unconsciously, he started to follow the conversation.

"And why is that?"

"He's in Brazil, Miss."

"Is he having fun?"

"…I am not sure, Miss."

"Let's hope that he is and that it's worth him returning to the country to find himself unemployed."

"Sakura!" another voice joined the conversation.

By that time, Sasuke had finished scribbling his signature on the last dotted line, set his pen down, and prepared to turn around.

"Am I late?"

"Well, it is eleven, so technically, you are late. But I will let it slide this time."

His father had already turned, but it was only when he did the same that he realized he was no longer beside him, but several steps away in the direction of the entrance—and, he realized when he lifted his gaze, the most gorgeous woman he had seen in his entire life.

For a second, he simply stared, transfixed.

There was absolutely nothing about her that he could say was wrong, or unfitting, or average. She was stunning.

Clad in a tight, red lace dress with sleeves that ended below her elbows and a hem that cut right above her knees, she sported the perfect body: petite, but lean, with long legs, a flat stomach, and curves and dips in all the right places. Her hair was a light shade of pink, much like cherry blossoms in the spring, but deeper, somehow, with more definition. It was up in a messy up-do, wayward curls escaping to frame her heart-shaped face and brush against her long neck and delicate shoulders. Her skin was pale and so entirely flawless that he could have sworn it was possible to feel how incredibly soft it was without having ever even touched it. Her lips were full and pouty, her cheekbones were high and sculpted, her brows were arched and defined—and, good God, her eyes. They were the most unusual shade of green that he had come across in his entire life—a mixture between green apples, the deep sea, and the rainforest in the middle of summer—and they stood out against the glittering darkness of her eye-shadow in such a way that they appeared almost iridescent.

A moment passed before he realized that he had seen those eyes before—somewhere in his memory, someday in his past, they had stared at him; this was not the first time they mesmerized him.

By the time that knowledge dawned on him, his father had reached the middle of the room—and the glittering green orbs had widened in their own recognition.

"Fugaku!" she gasped, and the most gorgeous smile broke onto her features before she took the remaining steps in his direction and all but threw her arms around his neck in a hug that, shockingly, the elder Uchiha returned.

Out of the entire skyscraper shooting up towards the sky, Uchiha Enterprises Corp. would start with twenty-three floors.

Another ten, right below, already belonged to Haruno Law Inc.

Sasuke remembered Haruno Sakura from when they were young. In fact, their childhoods were so thoroughly interlaced that his earliest memory included her almost in as much detail and density as it included himself.

Of course, as was the case with most people, the first years of his life were blurry, as though a veil that he could not lift had been draped over his eyes and never removed. He only remembered bits and pieces, and even when it came to those, sometimes he had trouble telling whether they were truly something that he actually remembered, or something he had heard from his mother or seen in a picture.

But he had been quite sure that his recollection of his childhood friend was spot-on…

Until he saw her again—and began to doubt himself.

Was he wrong? He'd asked himself that night. Was he mistaking her for another person? Had there been two pink-haired girls in his life? Was he making up a character that did not exist based on a bunch of photo albums and a couple of holiday videos? He was an intelligent man with an excellent memory, but one of his favorite courses at university had been Psychology; he knew what the human brain was capable of.

The Harunos and the Uchihas had been neighbours in Chicago. Fugaku and Kizashi, Sakura's father, had been best friends in high-school, a friendship that had carried on through university and beyond, becoming stronger with time and even leading to a business partnership. Between barbeques in the summer, hot chocolates in the winter, dinners at either one house or the other, holidays spent together and only a couple of hundred acres and a fence to jump between them, Sakura's life had been intertwined with his from the very start.

She was usually the one to spend the day at their place. Back then, he used to have it better than her; he had a brother and a mother that stayed at home. Sakura was an only child, with a fierce lawyer as a father and a renowned surgeon as a mother; she was alone more often, but that didn't mean she wasn't loved—far from it, actually. She was loved, and spoiled, and so, so goddamn annoying. Always wanting to get her way, always asking questions, always providing flawless arguments, always gazing at him dreamily because he was simply such a handsome boy at such a young age.

Then again, all girls were annoying and all wanted him as a boyfriend. Sasuke was quite old by the time he decided to actually reject the convenient hypothesis according to which they had cooties.

He remembered pink hair, rather short and unruly, woven into two braids. He remembered pair after pair of glasses that she ended up destroying because of her clumsiness and utter carelessness. He remembered dirty clothes, sometimes even ripped, not because she was neglected or because her family lacked in the finance department, but because she always managed, in one way or another, to land herself in trouble. She was always outdoors, always gathering wildflowers, always trailing through mud without a single care in the world, always followed by her huge, faithful dog—an animal that was equally curious, hyperactive, and dirty; a match made in Heaven, if you asked Sasuke.

Hard as it was to believe, Sakura had once been a girl that couldn't care less about her appearance; a girl that found it amusing when she was absolutely filthy and that frowned every time she was forced into a dress for a family gathering.

He remembered a young, high-pitched voice openly telling him, 'I want to marry you someday, Sasuke-kun!', and an honest soul that, despite that proclamation, hardly made any effort to actually capture his attention.

Was it, perhaps, because she knew she would always have it?

Instead, she showed him her true self, and remained the same naïve, annoying girl through years and years. She hid nothing from him, and so he knew everything there was to know about her. That was, of course, in part also due to the fact that she never stopped talking, chattering on and on until his ears bled. There was a time when Sasuke had been sure he wouldn't need to read a single book in his entire life—because there she was, day after day, the perfect definition of a bookworm, with her backpack ready to snap, filling his ears with every interesting fact she found from page one, to the very end.

In the light of all that, and the woman he had only recently seen, one would probably find it easy to tell why he was doubting his ability of recall.

They were separated at seven, and Sasuke remembered feeling unsure about the silence. She'd gone from consuming his days, from being there from the moment he woke up in the mornings till the moment he went back to sleep at night, to not being there at all. And Sasuke, so used to stability in his life, was naturally disconcerted by that.

She'd cried as she waved goodbye.

He'd frowned, unable to understand why his chest was tightening when, for an entire month, he'd sworn up and down to his mother that he was glad she was leaving. She'd always chided him. He'd always shrugged and refused to apologize for saying what he believed to be the truth.

Sakura moved with her parents to New York on a warm day in June. It had been a business-oriented decision—and it had been a good one. In only one year, her father had built up an empire.

Then, one December evening, tragedy stroke, and he died in a car accident alongside his wife.

Sasuke's parents had, of course, been to the funeral, but they had denied him the possibility to tag along. They hadn't wanted him to bear witness to it.

Everything stopped after that. The phone-calls his mother used to have with her mother and during which he was always, without fail, beckoned to say hello to a hyperactive Sakura. The letters she wrote with enthusiasm and that he only sometimes replied to. She went from being on everybody's lips, to being mentioned briefly at the dinner table, to not being mentioned at all—perhaps only scarcely, when his father returned from a business trip and brought news with him, and on the rare occasions when his mother managed to get through to her on the phone.

Sasuke had reached the conclusion that the little contact was to be blamed on her caregiver, and because, as he grew up, he left his childhood behind, Haruno Sakura soon became a part of his past.

Until she started to show up, more and more often, in his present.

It was sometime after he returned home with a degree from Yale that he began to find out little snippets of information about her. That she'd graduated herself, from law school, with honors. That she had become officially in charge of her father's company. That she was still living in New York.

For some reason, though, he'd never expected to actually ever meet her again. It was as if his brain had decided to close the door to that opportunity, and if that was the case, then who was he to argue? He'd never given the matter a second thought.

His latest memory concerning her was, admittedly, quite amusing, and somewhat peculiarly, did not include her actual persona. It was of her whipping his brother's ass from thousands of miles away, through post, with a mere copy of a contract.

Unlike the rest of his family, Uchiha Itachi had decided to push aside computer science and instead preceded Sakura's footsteps in a law degree. By the time he (strategically, Sasuke believed) communicated his choice to his parents, his younger brother had already been hacking into the neighbours' WiFi, so, with a descendant to the family empire already in the making, it had been easy for his father to accept it. He had specialized in Intellectual Property with Business, and upon graduation, had been immediately hired, as would be expected, by Uchiha Enterprises.

Sakura had graduated with a double major in Constitutional and Criminal Law.

Remembering this, Itachi had once managed to swallow his pride, and asked for her help in a matter regarding a particularly rowdy intern who had turned out to be not so innocent as far as putting his hacking abilities to test went.

He had sent her a draft of his contract.

What he received in return was a new and improved version, a list of charges that could be made—both against the intern and the company itself—and every law that could be broken, bent, or skirted around altogether referenced neatly in the margins.

Sasuke remembered laughing at his brother's expression.

As much of an enigma as she was, one thing was for sure: she was determined and did nothing half-assed.

She was also late, he muttered to himself as he sat in her office a couple of days later, his father in another chair beside him.

They had finished their business in New York and would be returning to Chicago for the week, before Sasuke would have to fly out definitively. For reasons that, he could only guess, had much to do with the loyalty he still felt towards Kizashi, Fugaku had been adamant that they pay a visit to Sakura before they left, and because the young Uchiha was secretly curious about her persona, he hadn't put up a fight when he was automatically included in the affair.

After fifteen minutes of silence and an apologetic message from her efficient secretary, he concluded that it was safe for him to add another tidbit of information to his slowly expanding list: that Haruno Sakura was an incredibly busy woman.

Almost immediately, he wondered why it surprised him.

Another ten minutes, and the door finally opened. She strolled in, elegant and glorious, an apology already falling from her lips before either man had the chance to even turn and utter a greeting.

Fact number three: she seemed to have a knack for the most impractical, gorgeously dangerous shoes—and she wore them, to hell and back, with dignity and grace.

The fourth, he noted as she strolled past him, leaving behind a tentative trail of perfume that enveloped him completely, making him feel cozier than a cashmere blanket in the dead middle of winter; a mix of vanilla, musk, and citruses, she smelled so delicious he could swear she was almost edible.

He very nearly shuddered.

Then his gaze rose, and found her standing beside her large, mahogany desk. A navy dress adorned her petite figure, emphasizing her gentle curves without being too tight; it had long sleeves, hems that brushed her mid-thigh, and a cleavage that plunged low and wide, leaving the valley between her breasts, along with her delicate collarbone, visible, teasingly, to whoever was interested to look.

Sasuke definitely was.

Pink hair was held up in an up-do similar to what he had seen before, and she wore little make-up; black eyeliner and a red lipstick that nothing short of begged to be wiped away by another pair of lips.

She sat down behind her desk, and fact number five hit him across the head: she had the most gorgeous smile. Full lips. And, something that dress showed perfectly, amazing tits.

"I am so sorry for being late," she repeated, shaking her head. "It's been such a hectic couple of weeks, I can't even begin to tell you. How have you two been? I feel bad I didn't find the time to at least take you out to dinner while you've been here."

Fugaku answered her question with a tenderness that, Sasuke vaguely remembered, had always seemed to be reserved specifically for her. Sakura smiled once more and leaned forward with her hands clasped beneath her chin.

As it was, he was too focused on her cleavage to actually pay any mind to that aspect.

Five seconds later, he wondered if it was possible to adjust his hard-on without drawing any attention to himself.

"So, Sasuke will be CEO," she had concluded by the time he finished ogling the skin on display, and it occurred to him that it was the first time in years that he heard his name fall from her lips.

It was also the first time he heard it in her sexy, grown-up voice.

He wasn't sure what bothered him more—the fact that it affected him so much, or the fact that he had been in New York for a grand total of five days, and was nothing short of drooling at the sight and sound of his annoying childhood friend. While he had wished a fresh start would equal to less women pinning over him, he was nowhere near ready to pin over one himself—especially not simply because she had a pair of great tits… or legs… or because, in short, every component of her body was great.

Besides, this was Sakura. Why weren't all of her old secrets and silly actions coming to bite her in the ass and reduce her attractiveness?

"Yes, he will," Fugaku confirmed.

"That sounds perfect," she said. As another smile spread onto her lips, her gaze slid to the side to meet his—and, for the first time, she acknowledged solely him.

The week before, she'd been too busy, managing only a fleeting hug to his father before she was whisked away by whom he'd assumed were her business partners. She hadn't greeted him. She hadn't glanced at him. Sasuke doubted she'd even noticed him.

He'd seen her twice more afterwards, including the current occasion—and, every time, his father had been with him. Her greetings had always been directed to both of them.

Immediately, he was assaulted by the memory of a pink-haired girl, shorter than him even at the age where it was normal for girls to tower over boys, and not the other way around, gazing up at him with large green eyes that gave away all of her feelings, offering him her full, undivided attention for what seemed to be twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

"I'm glad to hear that we'll be neighbours again," she teased with a light laugh. "Anything you need, all you have to do is tell me. I'll be more than happy to help you."

He blinked, the image disappeared, and he swallowed.

Anything…? His mind posed the question before he could squish it.

"So, when do you start?"

As soon as he figured out how to walk, or even stand, without giving away his predicament, he supposed.

Thankfully, he'd practiced the art of hiding his troublesome emotions for years and years.

Neither Sakura, nor Fugaku caught on.

Score.

The night before Sasuke was scheduled to leave permanently for New York, his mother surprised him with a party.

Whether she was celebrating his departure or attempting to distract herself by making the most out of it, he had no way of knowing unless he asked—and he had no intention whatsoever of doing that, lest she should burst into tears in front of him and seek comfort he was incredibly bad at giving.

Regardless of what the problem was, Mikoto had apparently decided that being surrounded by people was the solution. And so, an evening that Sasuke had planned to spend eating his favorite homemade dish and then sleeping early in his old bedroom (seeing as he had already sold his apartment in the heart of the city), turned into a chain of greetings and mindless answers to polite questions coming from nearly every single person he'd met in his entire life.

He didn't mind as much as he should or probably usually would. He wasn't exactly a social butterfly, but he'd learned to be polite—after quite a rebellious adolescence—and he appreciated his mother's gesture, acknowledging the fact that, among all these people, there were some that he would probably never see again.

So, he conformed himself to the current situation.

There was only so much small talk he could manage before he felt the need to run and hide in a corner, though.

His brother found him outside, on a balcony where he probably should not be, on the second floor of the restaurant his mother had reserved for the night, leaning with his arms on the railing, staring into the distance at the city skyline.

"Look at you, saying goodbye to everybody," Itachi announced his presence, coming to stand beside him.

Dressed finely in a dark suit, a drink in his hand, the long hair he had refused to cut no matter how much their father insisted caught in a low ponytail at the base of his neck, Itachi looked almost the same way he had so much time ago—almost the way he had for all of their lives.

Vaguely, Sasuke remembered a much younger version of him, with messy hair that was neither long nor short, and a scrawny figure, playing with him in the pool. But the truth was that it was a hazy memory; by the point in his life where the fog lifted, Itachi was already adolescent.

That was not to say their relationship had ever been monotonous, though.

Sasuke smirked in his glass as memories instantly spilled into his consciousness. Itachi sneaking through his bedroom window one late night because he was too afraid their father would have anticipated his move had he chosen his own. Itachi getting both of them lost on the trip to Santa Fe he had taken him on for his sixteenth birthday. Itachi, more than a little disheveled, after the first night out Sasuke had spent with him and his rowdy friends at college.

Clearly, his brother was not what he appeared to be at all. No one could guess that, out of the two of them, he was the tame one. Not an angel, that was true, but Itachi was worse, and to this day, Sasuke could swear he enjoyed the fact that everybody thought otherwise.

Everybody but their parents, he supposed. They had to know who had been sleeping under their roof for so long, after all.

"You have no idea how much I'll miss all these people I've only met once," he retorted dryly, earning a snort in response.

It occurred to him then, hitting him much like a lightning bolt, that his brother was one of the few persons that he would miss—and quite acutely, at that.

Anyone would say that missing his family was a given, and he wouldn't argue, because it was.

It was all different, though.

He was used to being away from his parents, had flown out of the nest a long, long time ago, something that was normal and completely natural. He thoroughly enjoyed his independent, bachelor lifestyle. Talking on the phone, once or twice a week, and being completely sure of a meeting only during the holidays wouldn't be a large transition. What he would probably actually miss was having them in driving distance, being secure in the knowledge that, if he ever needed them or they ever needed him, he could climb in his car and be with them in less than twenty or thirty minutes.

Not seeing Itachi every week, on the other hand, would definitely be a big change. And, not that he would ever admit it to anybody other than himself, but he believed there would be more than one time when he would grab the phone with the intention of asking him to meet him for lunch and barely catch himself in time to realize that he couldn't do that anymore.

"Are you going to miss all the girls you've only met once, too?"

Sasuke rolled his eyes.

"I bet that's why you're moving."

He snorted. "Why? Because I've met all the women?"

"Of course," Itachi teased smoothly.

Sasuke shook his head. "You know—"

"Sasuke!" A voice suddenly interrupted them, causing both brothers to turn around and face the newcomer.

Sasuke's eyes nearly bulged out of his head—because there, standing right in front of him, clad in a dark green dress that showed almost as much cleavage as it showed legs and strappy gold sandals that added at least another six inches to her height, was no one other than Haruno Sakura.

"Hi," she greeted, smiling. "Sorry, your mother sent me on a quest after you and advised me to look into darkened corners. I guess I'm too good of an investigator."

"Sakura," he barely managed after a second.

It was also around that time that Itachi seemed to snap out of his daze. "Sakura!" he echoed, the surprise in his voice as clear as the enjoyment.

"Hi, Itachi," she answered, stepping forward to give him a brief hug.

"It's nice to finally see the person behind the e-mail address again."

"I'm glad I could be of use."

"I'm very surprised to see you here."

She shrugged. "I know. I've been gone for a long time."

"Yes, you have," he agreed.

Turning to him, she dedicated him a brilliant smile that—he was sure there was no better way of putting it—nearly knocked him on his ass. "I hope you don't mind my presence. It's… very hard to say no to your mother."

He rolled his eyes and drained his drink, muttering under his breath. "Don't I know it…"

"Well, then, speaking of your mother… You might want to go downstairs. I'll see you both there."

With yet another knockout smile, she turned and stepped back inside, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing in the large room.

He couldn't care less about that, though. He was entirely too busy watching her ass.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Sasuke brought his drink back to his mouth, only to scowl down at his glass when he realized he'd already emptied it. Glancing aside at his brother, his scowl deepened even further when he caught him smirking.

"What?" he grunted.

"Nothing," he answered innocently, with a gentle shake of his head. "I just don't know why it didn't occur to me sooner."

"Fuck off," was Sasuke's only answer.

Settled in what he was convinced was the most comfortable leather seat ever to have been installed on an airplane, Sasuke took in the vast expanse of bare skin across from him.

It was downright ridiculous, he believed; supermodel sized legs on a woman that barely reached his chin with her high heels on.

It was even more ridiculous, how she had him imagining how they would feel and look wrapped around his neck by as much as crossing one over the other in that stylish, seductive way only a handful of women completely mastered.

"So, how was the party?" her soft voice reached his ears, snapping him out of his daze. His gaze flitted up to hers in an instant, and if she noticed where it had previously been, she chose not to mention it.

"A bit loud and a lot messy," was his honest answer.

She laughed, and her green eyes sparkled with the sound. "I do seem to remember slightly antisocial vibes coming from you when we were younger."

He shrugged. It was the first reference to their past that she made, and as his gaze yet again slipped down her face and over the length her body, Sasuke found himself, once more, in full battle with his preconceptions.

She was clad in a blood red dress, tight on her body, but conservatively stopping just above her knees. High-heels with red soles adorned her feet, the type that he, between his mother and the many superficial women he had ended up spending long nights with, knew perfectly well how much were worth. Her pastel pink hair was caught in an up-do similar to the night before, but neater, and her green eyes were brought out only by a touch of mascara and golden eyeshadow.

"You don't look very comfortable," he said, for fear of saying something else otherwise.

Sakura glanced at him from where she had hidden behind the screen of her slim iPhone. "I have a meeting at noon," she explained.

"On a Saturday," he concluded dryly.

She smirked. "Why, Sasuke. Saturdays are just perfect for meetings."

He returned the gesture while carefully eyeing the closed Macbook Air sitting on the table between them. She had her phone in her hand, and a yellow manila envelope in her lap.

A flight from Chicago to New York normally lasted at the very most two hours, time during which he very rarely managed to get something done. Sakura, on the other hand, looked as if she was ready to take on the world.

"What about you?" she asked. "Have you found a place to stay yet?"

"No," he answered.

He would have had more than one chance to find himself an apartment on the many visits he had paid New York in the past half a year, but Sasuke was the type of person that was serious about three things in his life: his business, his car, and his home. It was only normal, considering he'd grown up in a family that valued them all, and because of that, he hadn't wanted to rush.

While at university, Sasuke had spent an entire summer in the city, internshiping for a company as part of his degree. He'd met new people, found old friends, and experienced a bit of what the Big Apple had to offer, but there hadn't been enough time for him to discover everything—the area in which he would most enjoy living included.

That being said, his current plan involved a very expensive hotel room booked for an indefinite period, a real estate agent, and quite a bit of exploring.

"Would you want me to contact my real estate agent?" she offered, surprising him. "He's very good and very quick. You could have a place to stay by Monday."

He raised his eyebrows. "That's confident."

She smiled and shrugged. "It worked for me. But, in any case, you'd at least have somewhere to start."

The young Uchiha stopped for a moment to study the image she'd painted, and wondered if all the people in her life were as efficient as she appeared to be.

Then he nodded. "Alright."

"I'll call him as soon as the pilot authorizes it."

New York was a city of constant change; Sasuke had known and loved that about it from the very beginning.

But if there was something that had remained constant over the years, that was one of his own beliefs: Central Park was the absolute best place for his morning runs.

That was probably the reason why, bright and early on Monday morning, when a normal person would have been preparing for their first day in a new workplace, Sasuke found himself following the same path his feet had beaten into for an entire summer.

Slowing to a brisk walk once he reached the spot he had started from, he took a long gulp out of his water bottle. It had been too long since he was last able to squeeze a good workout into his schedule, and he relished both the burn in his muscles and the way in which the crisp spring air cooled down his heated body.

Lost in his thoughts—and the music pounding in his earphones—he almost didn't notice the massive golden Labrador running at full speed towards him. As the animal began to slow down, though, waving his tail from side to side in an universal gesture of friendliness, Sasuke smirked, pausing his music and crouching down to welcome him. Tongue lolling to the side, out of his mouth, the large dog sat down in front of him, eagerly accepting his expert attentions.

"Well, would you look at that," a familiar voice cut through the silence of the early morning.

The Uchiha looked up to see no one other than Haruno Sakura approaching him, pink hair up in a high ponytail, arms crossed over her chest, and a smirk on her lips.

"What kind of guard dog are you, waving your tail to every stranger in your path?"

The animal barked, sat still for one more second, and then stood to head back to his mistress' side.

"Sakura," Sasuke greeted, standing up.

It was the most casual he had ever seen her, dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a brown sweater, with a matching scarf wrapped around her neck. He was starting to worry, though, he decided as he caught sight of her boots, that she had something personal against flat shoes.

"Hey, Sasuke. How was your weekend?"

"It was fine," he answered. "How was your meeting?"

She grinned as she came to a stop in front of him. "Very good."

Sasuke took a sip of his water and couldn't help but tease, "Have you had another one today?"

She shook her head, the smile still on her lips. "Only if this ongoing outing with Sammy counts."

"Sammy, huh?" he noted, causing the dog to bark in response. "Judging by your outfit, I wouldn't have guessed you weren't out running yourself."

"I'm more of a gym type of person, I'm afraid."

As yet another smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, Sasuke took a moment to appreciate how incredibly easy it was to interact with her. He supposed it was their history, or at the very least the knowledge of it, that made it so, but that fact aside, he couldn't ignore the wit and intelligence behind her quick retorts.

Nor could he ignore the way they all, simultaneously, and along with the killer body that made necks turn even while clad in a pair of simple jeans, turned him on.

"The real estate agent I recommended you called me last night," she let him know. "He had to leave town to deal with a personal problem that arose, but he sent me the keys to three penthouses you might be interested in. I was thinking we could pay them a visit this evening—see if my story will also prove true in your case."

Sasuke raised his eyebrows in surprise. "He seems to trust you."

Sakura gave a small laugh. "I saved him from a lawsuit the size of Canada three years ago. You bet he trusts me with his life."

"I see," he said, and nodded. "This evening it is, then."

"I finish at five. Call me anytime after."

Two apartments, and Sasuke was sold the very moment he stepped into the second one.

Upon entrance, he was met with a small foyer, which almost immediately spilled into a large living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows adorned the wall opposite from him, showing a beautiful, unobstructed view of Central Park, the setting sun casting a golden light over the scenery.

"Wow," Sakura commented as she walked ahead of him, the sound of her high-heels knocking against the newly furnished hardwood floors echoing in the large, empty space. "Frank certainly outdid himself this time."

Sasuke soon followed, his dark eyes carefully taking in what had been previously hiding from his sight.

To his far left, there was a fully equipped kitchen, separated from the living area only through a long, sleek bar, the open concept accentuated even further by the two glass walls that met in the corner, leaving only the interior wall that lined the outside hallway to be covered with modern, black cabinets. To his right, there stood a winding, glass staircase, no doubt leading upstairs, to a second level. Beneath that, a double door opened to another large, empty room, equipped—he soon found out—with a fully functional bathroom and a walk-in closet.

Upstairs, there were two large rooms, similar to the first one he had stepped in, and he could already envision turning one of them into his bedroom.

Aside from the kitchen and the bathrooms, the apartment was completely unfurnished, and that was perfectly fine with him; Sasuke would rather make a slightly bigger effort and ensure that everything was to his liking, than have reasons to complain later on.

He would forever deny, though, that admitting that also meant admitting he had small OCD tendencies.

Once he finished exploring, he returned downstairs, finding Sakura in the exact same spot as five minutes before: standing in front of the large window, gazing at the glimmering city below, in the distance.

"How did you know what information to give your agent?" he asked, curious.

She'd called the man without asking him a single question other than the one needed to request his permission, and yet, she'd seemed to know exactly what he was looking for in a home.

"Information on what type of apartment you want?" she asked for clarification.

"Aa," was his answer.

She turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest and a smirk on her lips that told him he wasn't nearly as difficult to figure out as he thought. "Oh, Sasuke… but you're the stereotypical businessman. Young, wealthy, single, moving halfway across the country to start a new life, all by yourself. Of course you would want a huge penthouse at the top of a skyscraper, with a wonderful view towards the city and modern, not too sophisticated decorations. Plus a high security garage for your outrageously expensive car."

Sasuke crossed his own arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side.

She grinned.

"You seem to know quite a bit about men, now, don't you?" he remarked.

She rolled her eyes in a teasing manner and scoffed. "Sasuke, look at me. Of course I do."

Standing there, in her little, professional grey dress that really, really shouldn't be hot in any way, shape, or form, and high-heeled shoes, the setting sun only serving to further accentuate her perfect figure, Sasuke found that he had no other choice but to believe her, fully and unquestionably.

Friday night found Sasuke in one of the largest, noisiest clubs he had ever had the pleasure of visiting.

He had no idea why, but when his best friend had suggested that they meet to catch up, he hadn't imagined the process would involve alcohol and loud music.

Looking back, he quickly and effortlessly realized that was his own fault. He had known Naruto and the short lengths to which his intellect went, and just as his own IQ hadn't diminished, he shouldn't have expected that his had grown.

"So, how do you feel?" the blond in question asked from his spot beside him, his voice barely carrying over the pounding noise. "Be happy, bastard, you have a new life now! Better than old, boring Chicago!"

Rolling his eyes, the young Uchiha decided not to even bother and instead knocked back his drink, caught the eye of the bartender and signaled for another.

Among the many things that had stayed the same, he was sure, was also his inability to deal with a drunken Naruto any other way than by ingesting enough alcohol not to be surprised by every stupid word that left his mouth.

"Aww, you're just as grouchy as ever!" he proclaimed, as if to prove him right.

Sasuke grunted in response, but could not help the amusement that unfolded inside him, shaking his head. "Shut up, idiot."

"Hey—OH, HEY!" he suddenly yelled in a tone so loud, it nearly made the Uchiha jump, despite the noise swirling around them.

"What the fu—"

"SAKURA!" The blond stood from his seat and waved his arms in the air in a poor attempt to attract someone's attention.

To Sasuke's surprise, it actually worked.

To his absolute shock, the last person he would have expected to see in such a place stepped forward and was immediately enveloped in his best friend's arms.

"YOU'RE HERE!"

A small, familiar laugh sounded out above the music. "I am."

"Is Hinata with you?"

"She is."

"Great!" he exclaimed. Then, in a characteristic display of excitement, grasped her shoulders in his hands and turned her around until she stood in his place, before rushing to blurt out, "I have to go now! Meet Sasuke! See you later!"

Eyes fixed on the back of her head to stop them from sliding someplace lower, Sasuke barely noticed when Naruto slipped away into the crowd, too busy trying to figure out how it was, exactly, that he was meeting her everywhere and that she was always, without fail, dressed so impeccably.

With another small laugh, Sakura turned to face him, appearing unsuprised to see him.

"Hi, Sasuke," she greeted, smiling widely.

She had on a completely different outfit than the ones he'd seen before, a small, white and pink dress adorned with sequins that did not necessarily do her body any particular favours, except for the fact that it showed considerable cleavage and made her legs a million miles long, helped by the different pair of high-heels that completed the ensemble.

Her pink hair was up, once again, in a mess of loose curls, and if he'd thought the green of her eyes stood out before, there was no word to describe what they were doing now. It was as if someone had reached out and photoshopped them, causing them to practically gleam in the darkened nightclub.

He managed to shake himself out of his stupor just before he made an ass out of himself. "Hi," he answered.

"I thought I recognized you! I was coming to say hi when I was assaulted," she laughed.

He smirked. "Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, please. I'll have a dry martini."

As he gave the bartender her order, she slid up into what had previously been Naruto's seat. Briefly, Sasuke made the mistake of glancing down at her exposed thighs, and immediately snapped his gaze back up to her face.

Another big mistake, he immediately realized.

Her full lips were just as attractive as the rest of her.

"How do you know Naruto?" she asked.

"High-school," he answered, leaving out the part in which they had been best friends since freshman year, since it was something that he, himself, still had trouble coming to terms with. There was a world of difference between him and Naruto, which often manifested in arguments and punches. He didn't know how he managed to stand him, and if he were to be perfectly honest, he didn't know how Naruto managed to stand him, either.

"I didn't know that," she remarked.

"I didn't know you knew him, either."

"We met in college."

Sasuke quickly retreated his statement according to which she was only surrounded by serious, highly efficient people. The idiot was neither, and never could be.

"Hinata's my friend and he's completely taken with her," she continued. "It's so amusing to watch."

He raised an eyebrow. "Does she not like him back?"

She laughed. "Oh yes, she does! That's the thing! I don't know what they're doing—all I know is that they're adorable! You should see them!"

He definitely should; he needed some leverage, and quickly, because Naruto seemed to know everything there was to be made fun of about him, and he had no ammunition whatsoever. But, in order for that to happen, he would need to meet Sakura's friend—and he realized that, despite having shared a plane ride, been in the city for an entire week, and seemed to bump into each other at every step, he hadn't actually found out anything new about Sakura other than the fact that she had a great real estate agent and was an even bigger workaholic than himself.

"You aren't quite making an effort to be my friend, are you?" The alcohol spoke for him.

Sakura blinked, threw him a strange look, then retaliated in a teasing tone, "Well, you aren't doing much, either, now are you?"

It occurred to him, later on, that perhaps the sparkle in her eyes had been due to the fact that she was a bit tipsy herself.

"I'm running a new company," he deadpanned.

Sakura hardly seemed impressed. "I'm running a law firm twice as big."

"It's your city!"

For a moment, she seemed to consider a response, but she pressed her lips together and gave him a smile instead. "Fine, Uchiha Sasuke," she agreed. "I will treat you to dinner tomorrow night. Just to show you that I actually am making an effort to re-become friends with you."

"Sounds fair enough to me," was his response.

Sakura rolled her eyes and knocked back her drink. "Perfect. Now, do show your appreciation and buy me another martini."

When Sasuke stepped out onto the sidewalk the following night and looked up at the large brownstone building in the middle of an entire street lined with identical architecture in an average New York neighbourhood on the Upper West Side, his first thought was to double-check the message he had received earlier in the day. Considering he had already done that once, when he pulled onto the street, though, the Uchiha decided it would be of no use.

Instead, he walked up the front steps and let himself inside, surprised to find the heavy door open and the reasonably sized reception area devoid of any sign of human activity whatsoever.

Frowning, he quickly located the staircase and made his way up. It took him little time to realize that the apartments stretched over the entire length of their respective floors; Sakura's was at the very top.

Still slightly bewildered, Sasuke raised his hand and knocked on the wooden door twice.

"Come in!" came the muffled—yet unexpected—call. "The door's open!"

That did it, he decided, and as he turned the doorknob and walked inside, immediately called back, "What kind of an idiot leaves the door open for whoever is polite enough to knock—or not—to come in?"

The sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears, soon bringing him face-to-face with the object of his mounting irritation, who was stylishly clad in a silky coral top, tight black pants, and—surprise, surprise—matching strappy high-heeled sandals. Her face was clean of any make-up whatsoever and her pink hair was up in a simple ponytail, but her green eyes were as bright as always.

"I was expecting you," was her simple response. "Besides, Walter is very efficient at not allowing any strangers inside the building."

Sasuke cocked his head to the side. "That's quite an impressive feat, considering how he wasn't even downstairs, to begin with."

Sakura shrugged. "He must have gone to the bathroom."

He spoke through gritted teeth, hands on his hips and stare at its most intimidating level, "The front door was open."

"Well, then, maybe he was abducted by aliens!"

"Don't be a smartass," he growled. "And do make sure to lock your door from now on. Not to sound paranoid, but you have quite a sizeable collection of designer shoes that I'm sure would be more than appealing to any manic psychopath or random thief."

She barked out a laugh. "Ah, how I've missed you Uchiha men and your protectiveness." She grinned, and threw a rag he hadn't noticed over her shoulder. "Believe it or not, though, this is a very highly secured building—and a safe neighbourhood as a whole. There are alarms everywhere and the police station is only a few blocks away. There are very people who would take chances with that." Turning around, she headed back down the small hallway from where she had appeared, compelling him to follow. "As you know, I'm a lawyer that doesn't always deal with the nicest of people, so I've had quite a lot to take into account—and haven't failed in doing so."

Three steps later, the corridor spilled into a large, open-plan living room with huge bay windows and an actual fireplace, complete with a furry rug and colourful throw pillows in front of it. Two leather couches were neatly arranged around a small coffee table and across from a large, flat-screen television to the right of the fireplace. The wall the last two items were pinned on was made out of bare red bricks and ran only to the middle of the room, allowing the space to flow into a modern, state-of-the-art kitchen that sported spotless steel appliances and deep cherry wood cabinets, as well as a small space, next to a window, that was used as a dining area.

From where she stood in front of stove, Sakura smiled at him. "Feel free to take a seat. Dinner's almost ready."

"I must say I'm surprised," he admitted, ignoring her offer for another moment as he continued to closely study his surroundings.

The apartment was beautifully decorated, white mixing with warm tones of brown, beige, and the occasional splotch of red. All the walls, except the one hosting the fireplace, were painted a very light cream, while the hardwood floors were a rich mahogany. The windows were adorned with flowy white curtains.

It wasn't clustered—not in the least. It was open and airy, with minimal decorations, and an eye-pleasing blend of traditional and contemporary aspects.

It was beautiful. It was tasteful. It was cozy, if a man was even allowed to use such a word. Better said, it was homey—homey in a way that he knew his place would never be.

It was all in the little touches that he couldn't quite bring himself to fully care about; the little touches that bespoke a woman's presence better than the high-heels abandoned in the foyer. The photographs on top of the fireplace, all in the same type of carefully selected frames. The delicate artwork on the walls that, instead of standing out and trying to make a statement of its own, blended in with the décor, completing it. The dozens of colourful cushions that somehow complemented each other. The leopard-printed blanked draped over the back of the couch. The book abandoned on the coffee table, along with the iPad with the pretty cover.

Hell, he thought, even the dog that was sprawled in front of the working fireplace, dozing off from the heat.

Sasuke had expected a penthouse. Instead, what he stumbled across was a relatively normal-sized apartment, right across the street from Central Park, with luminous bay windows, an upper floor, if the wooden staircase that he glimpsed as he moved to glance into the aforementioned dining area was any indication, and an open plan that must have paid an interior decorator a pretty penny. If she said security was good, then perhaps he should believe her, and considering the fact that he hadn't seen her car out front, there was probably a private garage nearby, as well.

There was no doubt in his mind that she'd signed quite a significant check for this place.

But he also happened to know that she could afford so much more—and couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't wanted more, as well.

She grinned, returning to his side. "Everybody is, I'm afraid. But I don't need anything bigger. The view's nice. I'm literally five minutes away from Central Park. The traffic isn't too bad in the mornings. There's a Starbucks right down the street. And then there's Sammy, who wouldn't have been allowed in one of the posher buildings."

At the mention of his name, Sammy looked up and began to bang his tail against the floor repeatedly.

Sasuke rolled his eyes. He hoped Sakura was truly confident in the building's security, because if she wasn't, and was instead relying on Sammy to protect her, she might as well have signed her death sentence.

As the two began to make their way towards the dining area, where Sakura had already set up the table, Sasuke made a conscious effort not to size up her ass, and so instead tried to make conversation.

"Do you always dress like a rock star when you cook?"

"I'm not exactly the picture of informality, sorry." She grinned. "But, I do assure you, food tastes the same, regardless of whether it's made in flip-flops or high-heels."

"We'll see about that," he shot back.

"Bring it, mister."

Sasuke had been surprised when, instead of asking him to pick her up or to meet her at a restaurant, Sakura had instead messaged him with her address and invited him over, claiming that she would do the cooking.

He was surprised when he discovered where she lived.

But he was even more surprised when he took the first bite out of the pasta dish she had prepared, and felt almost as if he was in one of the finest restaurants in the city. Only that, perhaps not entirely. When prepared to pay two hundred dollars for a full course meal, Sasuke expected to be served perfection.

He hadn't expected to find it at his childhood friend's dinner table.

As if having read his thoughts, Sakura smiled at him cheekily. "Is it good?"

"It is," he answered, honestly.

"You sound surprised," she giggled, green eyes practically dancing, and he realized that, while he'd unconsciously been eager to spend more time in her presence so that he could discover more about the woman she had become, in his mind, he had already pinned her down to a stereotype.

How wrong he had been.

This woman, he decided as he studied her from across the table, wasn't getting pinned down to anything, by anyone.

The way in which their meal unfolded from then on only served to strengthen that newfound knowledge.

She was funny, she was charming, she had an opinion about basically everything. She refrained from judging until she had enough information to actually form an education opinion, and although she was firm in her convictions, they weren't entirely set in stone; she was ready to listen to new perspectives and give people credit if they deserved it.

She was definitely passionate about the career she had carved for herself, and the environment she chose to live in clearly showed that she wasn't driven only by financial motivation.

The clothes she wore and the car she drove spoke of an independent woman who knew how to take care of herself, knew what she needed and what she didn't, handpicked the luxuries she granted herself, but did not allow herself to become consumed with them.

Some would say that type of choice that seemed to be made so easily was only available to people who had always, from day one, had money; people who hadn't lived a single day in their lives worrying about their financial situation. Sasuke had no opinion on the matter.

But what he did know was that, aside from a sizeable inheritance, a monster of a company under her command, and a more than healthy salary, Sakura also showed something else—she showed kindness. An incredible amount of it. There was a softness and a light in her eyes that could only come from that.

She loved people. She was completely at ease with him, and the fact that she'd seemed the same way around Naruto, a completely different person, told him that might be the case with everybody she met.

All that contrasted with the Sakura he had seen a couple of weeks before, in the lobby of the building their enterprises now shared, a Sakura that had been confident and fully in charge, bossing what had appeared to be a poor intern and threatening the effective removal of another employee, and Sasuke came to the conclusion that there was more than one facet to be discovered in Haruno Sakura, and that she might be as much of an expert as he was at handling them and implementing them in all the correct circumstances.

Doing that required intelligence. It required a much more developed sense of self than normal. It also required a certain clinical detachment, which wasn't at all something that Sasuke would have associated with the young girl residing in his memory.

But she was in there, somewhere, as well, between layers upon layers that defined a complex woman.

She was there in the way that Sakura laughed; in the way that she smiled; in the way that her eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners. It was in the multitude of books that lined an entire wall. It was in the way she treated Sammy. It was even in the way she related to him. She was different, no doubt about that; she was more mature and, granted, so was he. But that didn't change the fact that she'd been the only woman in his entire life, besides his mother, who dared to tease him and provoke him the way she did, who dared to say what was on her mind regardless of what he might think of it, and who wasn't afraid of getting in an argument with him and actually winning.

She was unpredictable in that way, he suspected, and the conclusion brought along a foreboding feeling that he would never quite be able to fully anticipate her next move.

Which was why, he supposed, when she excused herself to the bathroom while they sat talking on her couch, a glass of red wine in their hands, he hadn't foreseen her glorious return.

He picked up her approaching footsteps clearly, her heels clicking against the wooden floors in a familiar fashion. His mother wore heels inside, as well, he remembered, and as he shook his head with a smirk, he decided his next question would be exactly that: why in the world did these women feel it was necessary to do so? The first thing he did when he arrived home was throw his shirt across the room and change into a pair of sweatpants, so that he could be comfortable.

Glancing to the side, he locked gazes with Sammy, who had inched closer to the couch—no doubt to benefit from Sakura's affections—but was still lying down lazily. His tail once again began to tap onto the floor, and Sasuke decided he also needed to know what exactly she'd to this dog that had him so exhausted.

But as her footsteps began to resound more closely, and he moved his gaze in the direction from which she was bound to appear, every last one of his thoughts scattered. His mouth nearly falling open and the hold he had on his wine glass loosening almost to the point where he dropped it, Sasuke stood up in an abrupt movement, his gaze fixed on her figure, standing there, leaning against the brick wall, while his mind scrambled to comprehend the visual image so hard that it eventually gave up and failed him completely, shutting down.

Sakura laughed.

"Oh, please, don't look so surprised," she coed, pushing off the wall and approaching him with a confidence that left him breathless—no less, though, than her outfit itself did.

She had kept the heels on, and she was now dressed in a a sheer baby-doll of a hot pink that barely—just very, very barely—covered her soft, pale skin.

Her breasts looked absolutely amazing in the lace bodice.

He didn't dare check if she had panties on.

"I'm not stupid. I'm not insensitive. I'm most definitely not unobservant. Perhaps more importantly, though, I'm not afraid to claim what I want, regardless of the light that might put me into." Stopping once she was right in front of him, looking up into his eyes because he was still so tall, she slid her arms loosely around his neck. "I've felt the tension around us. I've seen the way you look at me. You've been so busy trying to hide it that I doubt you realized I've been doing the same to you. I know you want me—and I'm not afraid to admit I want you, too." Slowly, she slid one shoulder up in a sensual shrug. "You might have already noticed, I'm a straightforward person; I don't beat around the bush."

Taking a step forward, she pressed even closer to him, the curves of her breasts molding sinfully against his hard chest. Grasping onto the collar of his shirt, she abruptly pulled him down until their noses were almost touching, her sweet breath fanning against his lips as she spoke, sending his resolve crashing against the polished floor and shattering in a million of different little pieces.

"So, what do you say if we cut to the chase… and fuck already?"

He said yes, thank you, and fucking finally, as he crushed his mouth to hers and grasped her toned thighs, easily lifting her up into his arms, swallowing her surprised moan like he had dreamed of doing for what seemed like forever.

No time to lose there.

On Monday evening, Sasuke met with his soon-to-be vice president over dinner.

Hyūga Neji had been recommended to him by more than one person, and upon meeting him face-to-face, Sasuke had a good feeling about the quiet, reserved man whose personality resembled his own so much. From his CV and recommendation letters, Sasuke had learned that he was professional, responsible, and had years of valuable experience under his belt. Over the course of their meal, he had learned that he was a man that knew exactly what he was talking about and exactly what he was doing. By the time they had both declined desert, the Uchiha knew that the person he was sitting across from was already part of his firm.

Hyūga, on the other hand, would only find out the following day.

As they stood to leave, Sasuke glimpsed a familiar flash of pink out of the corner of his eyes, and excused himself to greet the one woman that had been plaguing his thoughts ever since he left her warm bed—and body—on the morning of the day before.

The more steps he took, the more memories he was assaulted with—visual, auditory, sensory. She'd been perfect in every single way, so much that she'd very nearly driven him crazy, and Sasuke could swear that he had never enjoyed himself with a woman as much as he'd enjoyed himself on an unsuspecting Saturday evening, with his childhood best friend that seemed to have turned into a sexy vixen over the near decade that they had been apart.

He didn't know what she had in mind, but he'd be damned if he didn't bring her to his apartment to become familiarised with his bed, as well, at least once.

She seemed to be preparing to leave as she said her goodbyes to a tall man in his late fifties, who kissed her hand before walking out the double doors.

Sakura was still smiling when she caught sight of his approaching figure.

"Sasuke," she greeted.

She was wearing a brown wrap dress whose hem hit a respectable length above her knees. The sight of her long legs only made him think about how they felt wrapped around his waist, and the fact that she was wearing the very same sandals she had worn that night only served to bring back even more troublesome memories—of how the thin stilettos felt digging and scratching into his skin as he took her against the wall of her bedroom, having never made it to the bed in the first instance.

The mess of curls pinned to her head made him think of how the silky strands felt gathered in his fist; the keening sounds that escaped her throat when he pulled on them harshly; the contrast they made with the ivory pillowcase; the magnificent way they fell over her back and shoulders in sexy tangles the morning after.

Her eyes were no better, either, but not even for a moment in the twenty-four hours that they had been apart had he managed to push the vision of them, darkened by lust, to the back of his mind, so it was slightly irrelevant to point it out.

He stopped his train of thought as soon as he reached her red lips, lest he should take her right then and there, in the middle of the entrance of a fancy restaurant on the Upper East Side.

"What are you doing here?" she inquired.

"Business meeting," came his strained answer.

She smiled. "Me, too. It's funny how our schedules match, isn't it?" Turning around, she sent him a smile over her shoulder that compelled him to follow her out of the building and down the front steps that brought them onto the sidewalk.

"Aa."

"So," she said as she stopped, turning to face him. The warm, summer breeze began to play with a couple of loose curls, and her eyes started to sparkle in the city lights. "What are your plans for tonight?"

Sasuke buried his hands into his pockets, a gesture that contrasted sharply with the intrigue that bubbled up inside of him. He hadn't seen her since the day before. Was she going to simply ignore what had happened between them?

"Don't have any."

"What a surprise," she murmured. "Me neither. But… what I do have…" She stepped closer and stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear. "…Is a very nice, new set of lingerie on."

No, he decided as a smirk curled the corners of his lips upwards. Pretenses were the last thing this woman cared about.

"Is that so?" he asked, amused.

She pulled back and nodded, biting down on her lower lip.

"Sounds fun."

"It could be."

Shaking his head at her quick quip, Sasuke lowered his head and pressed his lips against her ear while his fingers brushed gently, seductively against the side of her waist. "So… how mad would you be… on a scale of one to ten… if I ripped them off you?"

Her voice was breathless when she answered. "I deal with facts, Mr. Uchiha. It's quite hard for me to consider hypothetical situations. But maybe if you show me what you mean…" she whispered, her hands starting a tender path from his lower abdomen up to his chest and around his neck, green eyes following their movement until they flicked upwards to meet with his. "I will be able to answer honestly next time."

Sasuke smirked.

After all, how could he deny her an opportunity to learn?

A/N: So, those of you who follow me on Tumblr should have already known I was working on this. I planned on posting it as a one-shot, even though I was aware it would have been humongous, but then the plot started to develop a little more, as well, gaining a mind of its own like so many others before it, and I decided it would be best to break it down into chapters so I can have more control and be able to present it better! This won't be a large project by any chance, though, only four to five chapters long.

Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this first instalment! Be sure to check out Sakura's outfits on Flickr, as well as leave me a review telling me your thoughts! :)