(they call her) M i s s M u r d e r

And as you bleed upon that floor

Think of me softly

And die without pain

Synopsis: Haruno Sakura is a world famous criminal, who not only is a con artist, but a pretty damn good one, willing to do anything to get to her goal, including murder, assault, theft, and using sex as a weapon. She's greedy, power hungry, and cocky. And Uchiha Sasuke might just be the richest man she's ever laid eyes on.

Chapitre Une:

(they call her)

M o n s t e r

Sakura Haruno was a con-artist.

And a pretty damn good one at that, no one would suspect a pretty little girl like her to be such a horrid thing. Everything about her was such a pretty lie. All those cute little smiles, those fluttering lashes, pretending to be ever so interested in what her mark was saying. It was just a hideous lie, all of it, because in reality, her smile was a deviously hidden smirk, her fluttering lashes was just a good way of drawing attention to her eyes, the so called "windows to the soul". It built trust, and quickly, and that was all she needed, a little bit of trust, and she was in. They would give in to her desires with the snap of her fingers, and she would use them until they were all used up, and then she removed them, moving onto the next one. If only they could really see what was going on inside that pretty little head of hers, if only they could really see what she was thinking. Maybe then they would see the disgust in her eyes when they spoke to her, and the utter revulsion that flashed through them when she touched them. Perhaps then they would see the blood in her eyes, and the greed in her stare.

Sakura Haruno knew that what she did was wrong.

However, if the men were to be as easy as they were, it was conceivable that they deserved to have their money stolen and a bullet in their brain. They called her the Black Widow, because maybe that's what she was, but she wasn't that.

She was a con-artist.

Con-artist.

What she did was a skill, and she was very good at what she did.

She seduced rich men, married them, took their money, and poof, they ended up dead. And then she'd pick a new wig, contacts, buy a new wardrobe, and ditch, moving to a place where nobody knew her.

Some of her marks were small, some were monstrous, and plenty were all around the world., but none of them had names.

They weren't people, just marks, her fresh victims.

And her current mark had come to the end of his use.

Tomoe Kaori stepped delicately across the marble tile of her current residence, her black stilettos clicking as she walked. She moved with grace, femininity, elegance, she was like poetry in motion. And with her huge baby blue eyes, and long, perfectly curled raven hair that always seemed to be perfectly in place, it was easy to perceive her as such. She was lovely beyond all comparison, she was absolutely enchanting, and it seemed fitting that she would be living in such a magnificent manor such as the one she was current walking across.

The foyer she moved across was decidedly nondescript for such a lovely abode, a gold chandelier hung from the high arched ceiling, and windows that would usually bring in plenty of light were dark with nightfall. It was late, perhaps, 3 am or so. The weather outside was cold, judging from the snow falling outside, gently highlighted by the moonlight.

The dress she wore was black as well, a color she often favored in her wardrobe, simply because it seemed to go with nearly everything., and it was short, and tight, not hardly anything you'd imagine one wearing in one's own home. But she didn't really consider herself a resident of this house, anyways, the twenty three year old was simply a doll there, who lived to please her husband: A housewife. She carried a large black purse with her, as always.

She reached the heavily carpeted steps, her heels sinking into the plush crimson carpeting. This house was much too garish for her tastes anyway, it wasn't anything she'd like to call her home forever, she hoped she and her husband could someday move somewhere a little smaller, that wasn't such a hassle to clean, perhaps by a lake or something, and they would have kids, two, one named Amaterasu, and the other Miki, one boy and one girl.

She walked up the steps with an aura of flawlessness, her perfectly manicured fingers matching her perfectly manicured toes. Her husband's office was just down the hall, and she was going to give him a little surprise visit, as she knew he'd still be awake, working. He was always working, Tomoe Fugiko was, it seemed. She had often told him that she wished he'd spend at least a little more time with her.

She strutted down the hallway softly, her heels clicking with telltale sounds, before rapping gently on the rich mahogany door that barred his office from the hallway.

"Come in." The words were so formal, though he had already known who it was.

She pushed the door open, all bedroom eyes and coy smiles, and her middle aged husband glances up at her, entranced. He is thin, his face lined and his longish dark hair streaked with grey.

"Kaori? What are you doing up so late?" He blinks in surprise at his exquisite specimen of a wife. Kaori would usually be out by 10, it was a wonder that she was up so very late.'

Though she is dressed and her make-up is still smudge free and her hair still coifed to perfection, she tells him, "I couldn't sleep… So I thought, we could, you know…" She shuts the door behind her with a soft thud, and approaches him, her heart thundering.

She'd been looking forward to this.

He spins his desk chair around to face her when she suddenly moves around the desk, coming in at his left. She clambers up neatly into his lap, her arms settling around his neck, slender fingers entwined in his hair. Her bag drops to the floor, unnoticed.

"…Do some stuff to pass the time…" She smiles seductively, at him, and he feels all will to work on his business dissolve almost instantaneously. His wife was beautiful, lovely, ever so pleasant and perfect. She was the best thing to ever happen to him.

She kisses him suddenly, a soft and gentle kiss, and he can feel the passion explode into his stomach. He wants her, and has only ever wanted her, for he doubts he could love a woman as much as he loves her.

She rips off his shirt with one careful and precise fluid movement, the buttons popping as she helps him out of it, her hands already trailing down to his belt and unbuckling it with a demure smile, and then she's moving aside her panties, and for ten blissful minutes they are joined, her rocking on top of him with excellent balance and skill, and then it's over, and he's spilling inside her, not caring for protection, she's been wanting kids for a while now anyway.

He gives her a loving, tender kiss. Soft and chaste, the way he knew she liked it.

"Well, that was exciting." He murmured into her neck, breathing in her sweet scent, so delicious it had to be wicked, "What's next?"

She leaned back, away from him, a sinful smile on her face, "I'm afraid I have something to tell you, love." She rummaged in her dress.

He frowned a little, "What is it? Is something wrong? Are you pregnant?"

She gave a spiteful little laugh, so evil and horrid sounding, how could this be his lovely, kind, perfect wife, Kaori?

"… Kaori?"

"Mr. Tomoe, I want a divorce."

A pistol came out in a flash, and the barrel pressed up against his skull, cold and unforgiving.

His eyes grew wide, and she smirked, "Then… This was…"

"Break up sex."

The gun fired, and there was a bullet between his eyes, right where it belonged.

And Tomoe Kaori, a newly widowed bride, carefully unpinned her wig, and popped out her contacts, stuffing them in her bag, revealing two vivid green pupils and long, luscious rose pink hair that flowed to her shoulders and became Haruno Sakura once again.

And Haruno Sakura was not the perfect housewife, was not devoted to her husband, and sure as hell didn't want kids.

Tomoe Fugiko wasn't even fit to lick her left stiletto.

Haruno Sakura knew that what she did, her art, made her a sinner.

Haruno Sakura knew she was a monster.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please review, for I am quite the praise whore. Constructive criticism is appreciated and intensely wanted.

I'm also looking for a beta... But I don't have a clue how those sort of arrangements work: Someone help me, please?

=3 Love and trolls,

-Charlotte