The Proposal

Sasuke once told me I would only ever be attractive with long hair.

I mused over what he said for a second before I smiled at him and knocked him on his ass. Two months later, he started to act obsessive; having damn-near demanded that I stopped cutting my hair, eventually going to the extent—with the help of Naruto—to steal all my scissors and keeping me from my getting to any of my hair appointments. I ripped both him and Naruto a new one after I had enough of their shenanigans, but in time I began to reconsider his…compliment, if we want to call it that.

I grew my hair out to entertain him and satisfy my own curiosity. There was something to gain from the length of my locks, and I was curious to know what.

The Uchihas were never the type to give out compliments. This distinctive Uchiha trait, definitely rooted in their own ego, most likely stemmed from their inferiority-complex where they feel threatened by something as simple as the acknowledgement of another's outstanding quality. That, or they genuinely—and by that, I mean delusion-ally—believed that their compliments were equivalent to that of gods, and thus, no one was every worthy—not even their own kin. However, on the very rare occasion that you were unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of their half-ass praises: run. The circumstances don't matter, just know it's some form of manipulation to get what they want from you.

And they do not take rejection to their advances very kindly. My word of advice, again: run.

Now, just because Sasuke was the youngest and, therefore, the least seasoned Uchiha did not exclude him from this fact. He also may have been my best friend since toddlerhood, and we would die for each other, but something about having long hair was beneficial for him, and I decided it was best for all of us if I found out what before Sasuke hurt himself at the thought of me hacking at my ends.

I certainly couldn't keep on rescheduling haircuts and beat them within an inch of their life forever. I wanted my hair cut short and out of the way, not butchered because I was desperate with an army knife and razor.

The source of my headache, as he would continue to be for quite some time afterwards, came to my doorstop a year and a half after I made the public decision—it had to be announced to the duo—to grow my hair out. It had just grown to the length where it sat comfortably in the dip of my back, and had me consider shaving my head on the days of the week which ended in "Y."

The summer heat wave just passed us and we were well on our way into the month of August; full of summer thunderstorms that would cool us into the fall months. It was drizzling when I started trudging back from my morning run, and coming up the backroad leading to my family's estate that sat neatly on the outskirts of town surrounded by a forrest, I noticed the usual empty drive that rounded the rusty and unused water fountain, was no longer that—empty. Sasuke's black sudan, which was parked by the entrance of my home, was nothing out of the ordinary. He had a tendency to come and go as he pleased without having the common courtesy of letting me know beforehand, but the black SUV that was parked right behind his set off a few alarms in my head.

Any normal person would have just walked through the gates, up the driveway, and greeted the owner of the mysterious SUV to ask their business—and what Sasuke had to do with it. But as we will learn, I was anything but that type of a normal person. The only logical thought that ran through my peculiar mind was that this was a trap. For what reason, I wasn't completely sure. Not that I didn't have any reason to suspect someone was after me. I knew a handful of people who had some vendetta against me, and Sasuke could definitely fall within said handful.

Ducking behind the security stand outside my gates, I peered over the side to further inspect the situation. What was Sasuke planning, if he was behind all this? What was Sasuke involved in, if he was actually enticed to joining whoever else was involved? Sasuke at least knew better than to bring someone else over without asking first. Surely he could have at least had the curtesy to let me know that he was planning to bring someone with him on his surprised and unannounced visit today, unless this was an ambush.

"Who was in the van?" I quipped at my gate-guard, annoyed that they had not heeded my warning about not letting anyone I wasn't familiar with onto the property.

"It was Uchiha Itachi, Haruno-sama." He answered dutifully, holing aback when I nearly snapped my neck off to glare at him in disbelief. "S-Sasuke-san's older brother."

I scoffed. He definitely wasn't a stranger, but I couldn't go as far to say that we were familiar either.

The last person whom I ever expected to see parked in my driveway was Itachi—or, as I liked to refer to him, Sasuke's bastard of an older brother. I may have personally known the Uchiha since I was in diapers, but if my description of who they were didn't give away, I wasn't particularly fond of them. Nor could I say they were fond on me. To further reiterate this fact, I noticed a second head peeping from behind the SUV as I tracked up the driveway. Said head belonged to 300lbs of pure muscle who had a gun strapped to his person.

The situation would seem to have deescalated itself from a potential ambush to a potential full-frontal attack. Now, we could all avoid some bloodshed if I decided to turn on heels and continue on with my run for another hour or three, hoping that they'll be gone and never come back once I decided to return.

But I figured I could be the lady my mama never raised me to be and confront the situation head on.

Truthfully speaking, I liked a good fight as much as the next person. I was positive that our civil encounter wouldn't lead to anything close to some sort of physical altercation—at least, not between Itachi and I, but I couldn't say the same for me and Sasuke—and I wasn't quite willing to test my luck with a man who was three times my body mass and literally paid to eliminate all potential threats made towards the older Uchiha. And I would think that disliking his presence alone is enough to qualify as threatening, especially if you're me.

Uchihas, as a whole, were a clansmen of people that I did not like dealing with. Sasuke, I could only tolerate because of our two decade long friendship which came with shared trauma and coping mechanisms. Uchiha Itachi was on a whole other level of bastard that I had not built the tolerance or acquired taste for.

The other Uchihas were then just categorized as distant relatives you hadn't talked to in years, but like to come by every now and then and pick at all your flaws and mistakes, acting like they're a whole six tiers above you. Aunt Uchiha may have gotten divorced twice and none of her children talk to her, but please listen to her when she tells you she's disappointed in your career choice and taste in men.

The only logical reason that I could think of for Uchiha Itachi taking time out of his day to come here personally was to send the official notice from his mother, which would demand that I keep away from their precious little Sasuke-kun. And seeing that Fugaku wouldn't have agreed to such at tact, what was better than the heir to Uchiha clan to send the notice-turn-threat? It was easy to guess why Muscles came along with him. What were words compared to an obvious and big physical threat?

Lord only knew Mama Uchiha had been trying to separate Sasuke and I for years now.

I walked through the door seconds after Shizune had let them into the foyer. My eyes only lingered on Sasuke for half a second to let him know that we would be having a very thorough conversation about personal boundaries once I finished up whatever involved his brother, before I strained a smile at Itachi and Mr. Muscles, fully aware that I was soaking from drizzle-turn-downpour.

"Uchiha. Muscles." I greeted, taking the towel Shizune had brought over to attempt to dry up before I made it further into the house. "What can I do for you on this inconveniently cold and rainy morning?"

The fact that I was aware of how dishevelled I looked didn't do much for my mood and self-esteem, but the way Sasuke's brother had the nerves to size me up made me regret coming into this altogether.

You would think that I'd be used to it by now, taking into account my life-long friendship with Sasuke. But let me tell you that Itachi was on a whole new level of bastard that I had only been fortunate enough to encounter a handful of times in my 22 years of living. I talked to him enough times to know that one, he didn't talk very much, and two, he didn't seem to feel, or express emotions so often to the extent that Sasuke's brooding ass seemed animated in comparison. I was fairly certain that if you combined all the conversations I've even had with Itachi leading up to this moment, he may have spoken a total of sixty words to me with half of them just being "hn."

To further reiterate how unacquainted we were, the closest thing to any emotion I had ever seen on his stoic face was that one time he half-smirked, half-wanted-to-laugh-but-couldn't (for some weird Uchiha reason) when I punched Sasuke into his own birthday cake on his sixteenth birthday after the brat got a buzz off of alcohol that one of Itachi's friends brought and tried to bust a move on poor lil' ol 'me.

So feeling a little surprised, confused, and a little bit annoyed was perfectly normal considering that I was practically shaking in my sneakers while he stood prim and proper his freshly polished shoes and tailored suit, and he had the galls to make the contrast obvious while under my roof.

"Sakura-san," He finally said. "I hope we aren't catching you at a bad time."

The deep rumble in his voice took me aback and it would have seemed as though out last, one-sided conversation was a long, long time ago. Far too long and long enough that his hormones had enough time to drop his voice a second time since he's been off to school on the other side of the country.

Taking my hand in his, he bent down to press his lips against the backside in a way that made my heart drop to my stomach. That move alone was enough to smack the strained smile right off my face and, with as much care as I could muster, prompted me to pull my hand back to my side while I looked up at him with half-disgust and half-disbelief.

I wasn't sure what kind of girl he took me for—ignorant, shallow, naive or all three—but I made it clear that his bullshit facade of chivalry and civility, accompanied by some lacklustre charm, was not something that could whoo me. Sasuke, it wasn't so threatening because he always knew I could see right through him, but Uchiha Itachi does not go around kissing the hands of passerby—no matter the political, economical, or social relationship they had with his family. He wanted something. I wasn't sure in that moment if I wanted to know what, but I was more inclined to test my chances with finding out directly than deal with anymore hand-kissing.

Sasuke, who at this point looked horrified by his brother's attempt to bust a move, refused to make an eye contact with me no matter how much I side-eyed him. Instead of the thorough conversation that I had planned to have with him later, I decided, I was going to give him the time of his twenty-two year old life once I was done with this circus act. If he could feel the murderous intent radiating off from me, he may have ran for the hills.

"Why don't we get to the point." I looked from Itachi to muscles, and back to Itachi. "What do you want?"

The way I paused between each word made me seem more threatening than I intended to be, much so that it caused Muscles to straighten his back and regard me through his sunglasses with some sort of seriousness—although his nosies flared and lip quirked up into a smirk. Itachi, however, wasn't fazed and the only noticeable difference in him was the way his dark eyes hardened as he stared into mine.

"I have a proposition for you, Sakura-san."

I snorted as I undid my hair-tie and twirled it around my wrist, looking up at him with a glint of amusement before turning to ask Sasuke, in a mocking tone may I add, "has your mom finally decided to get ride of me, Sasuke-kun?"

Said Sasuke-kun winced.

"I assure you that this has nothing to do with my mother, Sakura-san."

There was a sternness to Itachi's voice that should've frightened me—should've—but instead I shrugged unconvinced while I gave Sasuke a promising smile. Uchiha men were rather protective of their mothers, so I had known it would strike a nerve before I said it. That would be my one and only reminder to Itachi before we proceeded forward with his proposition that I wasn't like his other acquaintances, simply demonstrating that if I wasn't shy about addressing my misgivings with their beloved matriarch so directly, very little else would intimidate me in their presence. A little more than wealth and owning Konoha's security corp. was going to tickle at my nerves. Whatever he was thinking of proposing, he needed to be certain that this was the attitude he could manage going forward. Though, I was sure he had more than enough time to juggle with that idea.

Whatever little irritation I had managed from him died within seconds as he reminded himself why he was here. He had a proposition. He needed something from me. And my hair had something to do with it.

"Let us sit," he said, meeting my eyes unwaveringly, "this won't be a quick conversation."

I glanced from Sasuke, to Muscles, and back to Itachi, debating with myself if I really had any desire to entertain this and get anymore involved with the Uchiha empire than I already was. This not-quick-conversation sounded more serious than I had originally thought when I got there, and if I didn't know any better, I would have guessed someone was dying. I felt the way Shizune's nervous energy was rolling off her as she stood behind me, willing me to not do anything as reckless as to throw them out and make more enemies than the ones I already accumulated over the years.

My pride and temper had led me to make some questionable decisions in the past, but at least I could say I was a little smarter because of my troubles.

"Alright, but what's with Muscles?" Though I knew Sasuke wouldn't have allowed for this exchange to happen if there was even a chance of putting me endangered, a girl could never be too careful. I gestured to the said Muscles with my chin before I crossed my arms, my eye contact with the older Uchiha never faltering. "If this is really just a matter of conversing, surely you wouldn't need 300lbs of muscle and a gun with you, now would you?"

Itachi humoured my question and smirked. He exchanged knowing looks with Muscles who chuckled quietly to himself, his own arms crossing as he steadied his stance.

"You have quite the…reputation, Sakura-san. You must forgive me for wanting to be careful."

That was the closest thing to a compliment that I had gotten from Uchiha Itachi at that point. It almost brought a tear to my eye.

I excused myself to the bathroom to dry myself off while Shizune guided them to the dinning hall for some tea to warm them up as they waited. My shower was quick and I threw my hair into a braid while it dried from the raining. The best that I was willing to give them was whatever I managed to reach for as soon as I got into my room. It just so happened to be a pair of black jeans, a white blouse, and a pair of slippers I kept beside my door. It was cute enough, I guess, I mean they've seen me at worse—cue flashback to fifteen minutes ago when I greeted them after walking through a downpour.

I made my way into the dinning hall, once famous for hosting my mother's parties when she had been in her prime, but now empty and dusty, it's white colour bordering grey from the years it's been unused aside from the rare times I have dinner at home. There just wasn't much need for it in the recent years; no one came out here as often as they once had and I saw no reason to invite a town that's outcasted me.

I seated myself in front of Itachi and poured myself a cup of tea, and then another for Muscle who stood empty handed beside his boss. He only eyed the cup when I slid it across the table for him without making a move to take it. I took it that he didn't drink or eat on the job, which seemed like normal protocol in my own experience, but the gesture was nice and now no one can say I didn't at least have manners. I can admit that I come off a little blunt, and a little put-off-ish when I have strangers (not really strangers) ambush me at my home. But I had manners and at least knew basic social respectabilities, and although I didn't appreciate muscle being here, he was still a guest. Unfortunately.

"Alright, Uchiha. What did you want to talk about?" I peeked at him from behind my tea cup, the steam warming up my face as I took little sips to occupy myself. He insisted on dramatic pauses and being here longer than I thought was necessary. Maybe I had grown used to being in gossip papers and magazines, I had done a good job of staying under the radar over the last couple of years. I would not have appreciated resurfacing because his car was in my driveway a minute too long and he was spotted from the main road.

"I have a proposition for you." He said evenly, staring me down with this intensity that almost promised he'd burn me alive if I refused it. I was starting to wonder just then if Mr. Muscles was actually a bodyguard or a hitman. I offered him tea! It'd be mighty rude if he off'd me right after such a gesture.

"Of course," I set my tea down and folding my hands under my chin. "Go ahead and propose."

From the way Sasuke nervously looked between us, I already knew I wasn't going to be much of a fan of his brother's proposition. They were a family of wealth and power, whereas all I had was pure sass and hard work. We lived in two different worlds which once clashed when my mother worked as a famous doctor and business was booming for her pharmaceutical company. But that had been years ago before our reputation took a nose dive in the shit hole and our relationship had severely strain since the decline—amongst many other reasons.

There were many rich and powerful families living in and around Konoha city. The Uchihas were and still are one of those said families, while we, the Harunos, were the has-beens. I still somehow linger in-between what had been and what is. Call it history, if you will.

My current reputation certainly doesn't encourage prominent families to want to be associated with me, but I guess my mother has woven herself deep within these social circles enough that even with what's been done I still am associated.

It also didn't hurt that all the children of the families were all friends in their childhoods.

Rumour had it that the families planned the pregnancies to be around the same time in order for their children to create more meaningful relationships which would strengthen company relations without all the old-fashion arranged marriages. It evidently worked for the most part.

The Harunos also didn't really fall into that category of contraception. I hadn't been conceived around the same time as Naruto, Sasuke, Kiba, or the others, but more along the lines of adoption. I figured I was probably chosen for my age, but mama said it was because of my 'unique' hair colour and dazzling green eyes. I believe that because of that choice there had already been a rift between us and them from the very beginning. I simply wasn't of that rich blood.

Uchiha Itachi watched my face carefully as he spoke his next words. To this day I could recall the way his lips moved as he spoke them with pride and certainty.

"Marry me."

In the most un-lady-like way—as if what I did could be in any way be done lady-like—I choked on my tea.

"You're fucking shitting me" I thought.

I thought wrong because he retorted with a "I most certainly am not."

I was at a loss for words at that point. Actually, a loss for words was the understatement of the century and I probably would've sat there and stared at him for a good hour trying to convince myself I heard wrong had he and his bodyguard not jump when they saw Tonton scramble into the room. Muscles had reached for his gun and I nearly threw the teapot at him after yelling at him not to "fucking think about it" which ultimately knocked me out of my heart-stopping astonishment.

The piglet, after hearing the distress and anger in voice, made a point to distance herself away from the giant and quickly into my arms. She cheerfully oinked about her adventures outside in the rain—or so I like pretend she did—as well as about the bath Shizune had given her subsequently. I humoured her, of course, humming while I pet her and stole glances at Itachi's composed look of horror, which consisted of slightly larger eyes and a clenched, strong, and sittable jaw.

If I had to be unwillingly, brutally honest: Itachi was a handsome man who could get any woman if he set his mind to it. Actually, from what I read in the papers, he was one of the most sought after bachelor giving his single status at such a marry-able age. So, besides popping the question after exchanging close to only eighty words with me in the last two decades, I was curious as to why he wanted me, of all the women who would be more suitable, to marry him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand." I told him, still attending to Tonton who was now silently enjoying my loving attention.

"What is there not to understand? I've been fairly blunt with you, Sakura-san." My eyes narrowed and my jaw clenched at the obvious insult. "Marry me."

He sure was romantic, wasn't he?

Sasuke eyed his brother carefully. Somewhere in his midnight eyes, he was willing his kin to watch his tone and check himself for the obvious insult. I was patient. I was reasonable. But I wouldn't take insults from people like him lightly.

Trying to keep a levelled head, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing and the feel of Tonton's short fur. The last thing this house needed was a fresh coat of blood splatted on our already dusty walls. Shizune would no doubt decapitate me for the mess that she would have to clean up.

"You have to be kidding. Why would I marry a guy like you?" It was my turn to return the gesture, and while my insult was vague, I didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly and he puffed his chest in indignation.

The older bastard stared at me in silence, and I hoped it was because he was rethinking his decision to propose something as stupid as that. He really had to be shitting me.

If I really had to consider this proposal without any previous judgement for our relationship, I was still left the question of why now? Why all of a sudden? And why me? Not me, the Haruno Sakura that barely had a standing relationship with Itachi, but me, the Haruno Sakura whose known all around town for having such an unpleasant reputation that would no doubt only tarnish the Uchiha namesake. I figured that it was because his family had been pressuring him to take a wife and produce a heir—such ancient expectations, if you asked me—but it didn't make sense for him to choose me when there were many other lovely and willing women whose wealthy families would not mind marrying into the Uchiha household. To marry their daughters in to one of, if not the largest, security corp would be a blessing sent from heaven, a notion that I didn't relish in.

"It would not be a real marriage. I simply need you to help me…convince everyone that we are married."

It was a suspicious request if I ever heard one. And trust that in my twenty-two years on this god-forsaken earth, I've heard many questionable requests ranging from the needy, desperate, and the corrupted. What would I categorize this fake marriage proposal as? Perhaps it would fall under all three?

Of course, the more obvious question came next.

"Why do you need a fake marriage?"

What was so important and so urgent that he needed to do something like this? It wouldn't seem like being pressured for the last eight years to find a wife would make him come to this, and he seemed rounded enough to know better than to orchestrate a fake marriage just to make his family happy. No, he wouldn't give in like this unless there was something at stake.

"That remains confidential until you accept the proposal."

I snorted again. He sure had a way of convincing me, didn't he. "Should I call a lawyer to read over the contract your hiding in the pants pocket of Mr. Muscles over there?"

Said muscular specimen shifted and smirked at the compliment towards his sexual appendage. Itachi's eyes only flickered to glance of Muscles from the corner of his eye and then back to me, as if almost curious about what I was talking about.

"That won't be necessary. The contact is a single-page, one sided, and written simply for easy comprehension." A folded piece of paper slipped out of his inner pocket and in front of me, stating the terms and condition of the agreement, were I to agree to it. The whole time I had been hoping Shizune would give me some kind of sign to tell me if she thought I should even waste my time discussing this or just throw the man out. Sadly, she looked a little bewildered to give me a straight answer.

Judging from my reputation that has indeed made its way to the countryside, the fact that Itachi was willing to suggest such a thing sounded almost suicidal. I couldn't tell you if everything people had said about me was true, or whether or not having this reputation was a bad thing. All I could say was that Shizune was either questioning the intelligence level of a man who asked to be let into the lion's den or wondering about how close enough of a relationship I had with him that rumours about me didn't faze him enough to keep him away.

Unfolding the delicate piece of contract that would bind my soul to him, I steadied my gaze to tell him I was unimpressed with his arrogance as much as I was with him offer.

"You sound confident that I will accept this." I said.

"I would not come here if I wasn't confident, Sakura-san."

In the end it was probably easier to just blame Sasuke. The little one knew more than half the rumours spread about me were over-exaggerated, but that gave him more than enough fuel to convince his brother to consider some other poor passerby to play his make-believe wife. But he knew, he was willing, and he was complicit in making sure I would be ready for his brother when he came to collect me. And he knew exactly how to convince me, too.

If I, Haruno Sakura, was willing to take Uchiha Itachi up on his proposal, I would be generously rewarded for my efforts. If there was one thing that they had at their disposal, it was money. I only had to be reminded every now because their way of income never seemed to make it out to my neck of the woods, but the gravity of their wealth had never really hit me until that moment.

"Twenty grand a month." Was what Itachi was offering me. He said it so casually while linking his fingers together and leaning his chin forward to study my face as I had reached that statement in the contract.

I had schooled my expression to not give him the satisfaction of seeing how the large sum of money affected me; refusing to let him know that such an amount did sway my personal preservation of self. I shifted in my seat and took another sip of my tea to give me something to do, and I pretended that I was still casually reading through the rest of the contract as if my mind wasn't occupied with such a promising allowance.

They threw money at whatever they wanted, I had to remind myself. It just so happened that this time they were throwing it at me.

"You're offering a twenty-thousand dollar allowance for every month that we spend together." I began, not really sure what I was trying to accomplish, but buying some time in the pause that I took to organize my thoughts and figure out where all of this could possible go wrong. "And it would be mine to keep, regardless of how things turn out?"

Sasuke gave me this look of suppressed horror when he heard me, like he couldn't believe I was considering this offer as easily as I had. I didn't know what chicken-ass had expected when he let his brother waltz in here with a twenty-thousand dollar allowance for me, because he knew—at least for me—that twenty grand was a lot to come by, especially in a month. I would learn that he had an equal hand in helping his brother organize all his, so I'm not sure why he chose to act so naive and innocent.

Itachi, on the other hand, took my peek in interest as a yes before I even realized I had made up my mind to accept.

"We won't marry right away, that will be too suspicious." I saw the way the wheels turned in his head and knew he had gone over this plan many times over before, and studied it to perfection. "There are certain social expectations you have to uphold as my wife, and so you will undergo training until I deem you are acceptable enough for the status that I hold. That should take about two months. Afterwards, we will be spotted, together, by the paparazzi where you'll be introduced as a long-time, secret girlfriend. You will meet my parents, and we will continue to public court, and by next Christmas I will propose and we will marry. After I inherit the company, we will begin the process of divorce."

He laid out his game plan like it was nothing more than child's play. He simplified human courtship to "we will date, we will marry, and we will divorce" with a whisper of "this is so I can inherit my family's company," without acknowledging the sacredness of marriage. Well, not like I knew anyway. My parents were divorced, I didn't know my father, and my "step-father" wasn't even really married to my mother—so I guess I couldn't really speak about it. Nevertheless, I hoped God blessed the soul of the woman Itachi does end up marrying—for real.

"This should take no more than three years."

Oh, like three years wasn't a long time? Three years before, I was a senior in high school with big dreams and on my way to attending university in Suna. By the end of his charades, I would be closer to thirty than I am to twenty, and did I really want to go through the next three years—and the better half of my twenties—attached to Itachi as a trophy wife?

"You will refrain from courting anyone else during this period, for obvious reasons." Itachi paused to stare into the depths of my soul. That's what he came to collect after all. "In addition, no one must—"

"—know about our arrangement. I will not confide in anyone and deny all accusations implying our relationship isn't genuine. Got it." I finished, hurrying along to the real questions and more important matters. Gently I set the paper aside and returned his stare. He had his piece and now it was my turned to negotiate my terms. "What would this wife-training of yours consist of?"

"You will be taught to act appropriately to compliment my public image and reputation, to the highest Uchiha standards. That means altering the way you walk, speak, eat, and present yourself to the public and my family."

There was no denying that he was trying to turn me into a robotic Mrs. Uchiha, and as I said before, god bless whoever that may actually end up genuinely being because Uchiha Itachi's love sounded very much conditional.

I mused over how patient and willing I was at the idea of being barked at to sit straighter, cross my legs, and to smile prettily for the next three years. Faking pretentiousness wasn't hard every now and then, but to exercise it as a daily activity could be overbearing and mentally draining. I guess I could make a game over it. Even pride myself over how many people fall for it just to make myself feel better if I started to feel sour about my predicament.

It wouldn't be hard to pretend to want to satisfy, I figured. Just tedious.

"Were I too agree…" Which, at this point, I knew he knew I was. "…What are our boundaries?"

Too proud to admit he didn't know what I was talking about, he just sat there and waited for me to elaborate on my question. I had half the mind to just there and wait for him to ask, but I knew better than to wait for the day Uchiha men swallowed their pride—which was the day after never—I gave in.

"I understand what being a couple with entails. There will be handholding, kissing, cuddling, but we need to negotiate the terms of our…intimacy, especially when confined to only each other for the next three years, and living together."

While speaking, I had the greatest pleasure of occasionally glancing at Sasuke's face and watching it contort from disbelief to horror as the seconds passed on. I nearly burned into a fit of giggles while trying to explain my point to Itachi, my face twitching the whole I was trying to contain myself. For the record, I was asking to the sake of my sanity and the legality of the contract, so I would know what to expect from a not-so-feely Uchiha if he dared to pressure me into some frickle-frakling.

Itachi regarded me seriously, but then, oh my god, his face twisted into a smirk which made every hair on my body stand up. It was and never will be a good thing when any Uchiha smirks, trust me, quote me, write it down in a book and remember me for my famous saying on that. Hell, also write it on my tombstone because an Uchiha probably smirked before I got myself dead.

"Eventually, you will have to move in to my apartment, but as far as intimacy goes, you are not obligated to engage in a sexual relationship with me. However, it is not prohibited either."

Did I not say it wasn't a good thing when an Uchiha smirks? I had asked for my own safety and self-interest, but because he was an arrogant bastard who enjoyed taking advantage of these types of situations, he decided to make me feel like a pervert for asking such an obvious question. I was just about ready to test my chances with Muscles and launch myself across the table to choke the bastard with his ponytail and ask him to repeat the last part again, but with the blood rushing to my face from frustration and annoyance—not embarrassment, mind you—I didn't want to test my coordination.

So I sat across from him and blushed like a friggin' tomato that I swore if Sasuke wasn't too busy staring at his brother's subtle, flirtatious advances with his mouth agape, he would've tried to eat my face. But before I could digest the fact that Itachi had flirted with me, he switched back to his usual self and continued to talk about our business boundaries—the real thing I was asking about, may I add.

"With anything company related, I prefer that you knew as little as possible, considering it to be a private matter other circumstance. But since you are bound to be asked for your opinions and thoughts by the press as our relationship progress, and it is used as idle small talk at parties, I will educate you on what you need to know when the time calls for it. However, allow me to make one thing clear: what I do with my spare time and what you do with your spare time is none of your business or of my concern. When it comes to privacy, if it doesn't jeopardize our plan, it is none of each other's business and intrusion is suggested against."

I stared at him blankly, and by blankly, I mean I just sat there, looking in the general direction of his body, and saw nothing. I was stunned, but not disappointed in the least.

"So, in other words, don't come crying to you when shit gets rough and don't go snooping through your life, correct?" Maybe he was more tolerable than I gave him credit for. "And I can do as much drugs as I want and drink as much as I can, and even rob a bank, as long as I don't get caught and it doesn't ruin whatever image you're trying to give me? As an example, that is."

Very stiffly, he nodded and it tugged at the smirk I was holding in. Straightening myself, I extended my hand across the table for the pen he had clipped to his breast pocket.

"Congratulations, you've got yourself a girlfriend, Uchiha." I said it with the confidence I knew he wasn't originally expecting, because he when he extended his hand to shake mine, he smiled tentively. Yes, smiled, and if I were to be honest here, I didn't know which I was more afraid of: his smile or his smirks. "You've snagged the best girl in town."

He humoured me that one too, probably because he was in a good mood, and who wouldn't consider he got an easy ride to being the company's head.

"Perhaps," he chuckled in a way I never heard before, and he stood with the pen and contract in hand. "Follow. Training starts now."

Updated: 26-01-2020

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