Dedicated to SilentMidnight02 for a beautiful start to my March 9th :)

OoOo

"The mysteries of attraction cannot always be explained through logic. Sometimes the fractures in two separate souls become the very hinges that holds them together."

Lisa Kleypas

Tenten sat back, champagne glass in hand, and surveyed the crowded ballroom. She glimpsed Orochimaru across the room, immersed in talks with several high-level corporate shareholders that the Akatsuki had investigated in the past. Being an assassin had many perks—a new city every week, five star hotels, new wardrobe every day and access to intel on all the important political and social figures.

Uchiha Sasuke however, she had never heard of.

During her flight to Otogakure, and her entrance into the secured glittering beauty of his mansion, Tenten couldn't help but wonder how someone like Sasuke managed to stay off the Akatsuki's radar for so long. Or was it just her who hadn't been aware of his steady rise to the top of Corporate Fire Country?

Apparently the younger Uchiha was sitting on some serious cash, the majority of which belonged to his brother. But Itachi wasn't after the money, Tenten knew that. The Akatsuki ensured its members lived in the lap of luxury.

Uchiha Corp—their family's heirloom from the way Itachi had described its significance—was allegedly providing Orochimaru and his cronies with funding to purchase military and nuclear weapons. Weapons that would be used to wage war against Amegakure. The fact that Itachi's city of residence could potentially be under threat aside, he could not allow Sasuke to tarnish their family's legacy and reputation through association with a man like Orochimaru.

Again with the hypocrisy, Tenten thought. Wasn't Itachi's affiliation with the Akatsuki doing the very same thing? It wasn't important, she dismissed quickly. Itachi did his biddings under the quiet. Sasuke was a riot. It was different.

She watched as Orochimaru moved amongst the crowd, his amber eyes watching everything, the white-haired lawyer he was rumoured to be involved with, at his side. His personal security force filled the mansion all decked out in cream shirts and black trousers and tissue-thin black leather jackets, like normal guests. But Tenten had caught a few faces that were on the Akatsuki's hit-list circulating through the large ballroom and buffet.

Faces like those of Guren and Kimimaro.

She smoothed back imaginary loose brown tresses, checking that her hair-pin vile of poison was still in place. If she ever came across the woman in the shadows, Guren was as good as dead. No questions asked.

She was looking an absolute vision tonight, Tenten bad to admit—dressed in billowing silver silk. Her hair was up in a dramatically simple style that showed off the slender length of her neck. A neck the brunette would very much like to get her hands around or at least snap in half.

Guren's hair, the colour of it took Tenten back to her first kill.

The Hyuuga heiress.

She remembered it as if it had been yesterday.

Konoha's Annual Ball.

Hinata had stepped out from the black limousine, her curly indigo locks falling in soft layers around bare shoulders, ironically dressed in silver as well.

She had had the right physique and the right hair, but Tenten had to wait for her to turn around to get a positive I.D. on the face. The photograph Konan had given her hadn't done the Hyuuga much justice, either way the brief had been to eliminate her.

In Tenten's magnified scopes her pearly eyes had shone and there was a genuine look of concern on her symmetrical features rather than the glee of a gawker when Deidara—the Akatsuki's computer tech—set off the alarms of all vehicles within a mile's radius. Everyone turned towards the traffic, including Hinata.

There had been no need for a silencer, the noise was lost in the droning of the traffic below Tenten's position, and most likely had been mistakened for a back-firing van in all the chaos and uproar. She took aim with no more qualms than one would about doing something routine, then squeezed the trigger.

Hinata fell without a cry, never aware of her own end. One minute she was expecting a glittering gala and the next she was gone, dispatched.

Itachi had never been more proud of her.

Tenten was pulled out of memory lane by the spark of something at Guren's ears and her throat as the woman made her way across the room. They looked expensive.

Almost as valuable as her corpse would be, Tenten thought, running her finger back and forth through a drop of condensation that had slithered from her glass of water. The place was crawling with potential hits. It was an absolute torture—like being starved and placed before a buffet you weren't permitted to indulge in.

The ballroom was comfortably furnished in muted creams, bold splashed of colour provided by the modern paintings adorning the walls. Niches set into the walls revealed exquisite pieces of pottery which Tenten vaguely recognized as Konohan, their colours picked out by those of the tiles, and although no one told her so, she guessed the pottery was antique and extremely valuable.

Obviously no expense had been spared with the décor.

As she sat there, plenty eyes slid over her in silent appraisal or male appreciation. It was all thanks to Itachi and the transformation he gave her. He spent an insane amount of money on the two-piece blue gown she wore and on the trips she had taken to the hairdresser and beauty parlour.

Thread a fucking tiara through her hair and she was a princess. She couldn't even recognize herself, and perhaps that was a good thing.

Her hair had been pulled back from her face; every strand was firmly secured into an elegant knot at her nape. She found that the severe style suited her, revealing her smooth forehead and high cheekbones to perfection that her makeup accentuated. A small silver ring pierced the top of her right ear, her only jewelry. The stunning two-piece blue dress she wore featured a crystal embellished bodice and form fitting jersey skirt that clung to her hips and flared out at the end.

Blue was Sasuke's colour of preference. It would do her well to get him to take notice of her, Itachi advised.

With that in mind she had altered the seating plan posted in the cocktail reception area for the dinner, so that she would be sitting next to him. But though she'd managed to take her seat without anyone else challenging her, the seat next to her with Sasuke's nameplate, remained empty.

Tenten drew in a steadying breath as she unfolded her napkin. The pounding beat of the music jangled her nerves. She couldn't believe she had agreed to share Itachi's younger brother's bed for an entire week. Why didn't he want Sasuke dead immediately? And why had he wanted her of all people to be the one to undertake this mission? After all, she wasn't known to fuck on the first night. She killed on it instead.

A waiter dressed in white approached the table, deftly placing a starter course in front of each guest. Tenten almost drooled. Her stomach however, felt too jumpy—too tender—for her to chance indulging.

Grilled trout with lemon and mounds of fragrant wild rice, potatoes and diced pumpkin smeared with butter and spices.

Some starter dish it was, she mused.

"What kind of cuisine is this?" Tenten asked as a taller figure, in a black jacket, not white, suddenly materialized. He stood there momentarily. Then he was taking his seat—right beside her.

"Forgive the delay. I had to have security escort an uninvited guest off the property. Some hags simply do not have any self-respect," he growled and the rest of the table erupted with laughter as if they all shared some private joke.

"My lawyer would be more than willing to take care of her for you," Orochimaru's softly spoken offer seemed to slither from the far end of the table. "Just say the word."

If she was a lesser woman, Tenten probably would've shuddered at what she knew 'taking care of' the woman entailed. But as an assassin those words meant another day in the office. Except her office was either a dark alley, shadowy pub or a windy roof-top overlooking her target's downtown apartment. Her tools, rather than a computer, was probably a state-of-the-art rifle with telescopic lens.

"She honestly isn't worth the effort —" Sasuke waved off dismissively, "—or the bullet," he muttered beneath his breath before turning to acknowledge several of his guests by name then he turned to her. "Uchiha Sasuke," he said holding out his hand.

But Tenten wasn't capable of responding. She was simply staring.

Having seen him in the living flesh, this man could actually give Itachi a run for his money. He was absolutely breathtaking.

The word thudded in her brain, which later seem to send a message to her lungs to stall the flow of air.

He was the younger version of his brother, surely with a whipcord leanness to him that was accentuated by the superb cut of his tuxedo. Just as his pale face, his black hair, were accentuated by the dark colour of his suit.

She gaped helplessly.

The planed contours of his face, the high, strong cheekbones, the straight nose, smoothly defined jawline. And his mouth. Good God.

Sensually sculpted.

Her brown gaze travelled the distance to his eyes and fell straight into his.

Black—abyss—but flecked very deep within with gold.

And looking at her—looking at her with total, absolute focus.

She truly felt breathless.

Something flickered in his eyes. "I don't believe we've met before, Miss…?"

His voice was deep, making her toes curl in her stilettos. There was faint speculation in the voice. She could hear it, and it quivered through her.

"Tenten," she breathed helplessly, her eyes still speared by his. Numbly she placed her hand into his waiting one. "Just. Tenten."

The pressure of his grip was firm, but as he slid his hand away there seemed to her to be the slightest, the very slightest, reluctance to do so.

Her insides were simply whipping around like fruits in a blender.

"Taken with the pretty lady, Sasuke-kun?" Orochimaru's taunt slipped between them.

For one last, brief moment black held brown—eyes like onyx held eyes like sinhalite, and then they drew away—like the friction of gem against gem.

Her heart seemed to be pounding in her chest, thumping against her ribcage.

This was Itachi's kid brother.

Her target.

Uchiha Sasuke.

And she would have to sleep with him for an entire week when all she wanted to do was stare at him forever.

He was beautiful.

Tenten had to force herself to eat. Fortunately no one had made any attempt to include her in the discussion at the table. She hadn't the faintest idea what they were all so engrossed in talking about, despite being very proficient with the corporate lingo.

She was fluent in twelve languages, not counting sarcasm, money and business. The Akatsuki taught her well. Charisma and a pistol was a killer's two best friends.

All she wanted to do—all she was capable of doing—was to go on gazing at the man she would have to seduce and kill.

She had never, ever set eyes on anyone quite as breathtakingly beautiful.

Except perhaps Itachi. He was the epitome of ruthlessly good-looking, demonically sexy. But Sasuke's softer features made him quite something else.

Tenten swallowed, wishing he wasn't so close…or that his nearness did not impact her so much. She needed to get it together. Her only task was to persuade him into her bed and make it memorable enough for him to request her company again. But that wasn't something she could bring up in the middle of a formal business dinner.

She anticipated that she would've had to use dinner as an opportunity to request a private word with him when it was all over, and then go in for the kill.

In which case—she reached for the champagne flute—there wasn't any harm in going on gazing at him, while he talked to his business associates, was here?

"Allow me—"

Sasuke stopped in the middle of his conversation and helped himself to the bottle of white wine left in its chiller by the waiter. Then he filled Tenten's glass.

"Thank you," she said, her voice wobbling only a little.

"You're welcome," he said. His long-lashed, black eyes swept over her and Tenten's stomach plummeted all over again. "Tenten," his deep voice murmured, as if browsing through files of memory inside his head or committing the name to memory.

His eyes were still on her, and suddenly she felt liquid warmth washing over her. With every inch of her consciousness she became aware of herself.

"Do you know me?" she made a visible effort to swallow.

"Not yet," he murmured in response, his eyes crept over her again. His voice was dropped down to a low, husky tone that made her stomach flutter.

For a moment time seemed to stop—as cliché as that shit sounded. She just sat there and let herself be looked over. Something flowed inside her. Something so powerful and overwhelming that her breath was ripped from her.

She looked back.

Deep, deep into his eyes.

The meal seemed to take forever—and yet no time at all. He talked to her sometimes, as the conversation meandered, but whenever he did she found herself almost completely tongue-tied.

At the end of the formal proceedings, conversations struck up again across the banqueting hall. Orochimaru flashed her a suspicious look from across the room and she bowed her head in feigned respect.

Tenten felt the pincers go to work in her stomach again at the recognition that seem to flash in his eyes before he disappeared.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. There was not a soul alive who knew of her affiliation with the Akatsuki besides the Akatsuki themselves. She made certain of it. None of her victims ever survived.

And Sasuke would have to face the same fate.

Their table was breaking up. People were getting to their feet, taking their leave, either to leave the dinner completely or to mingle with guests at other tables.

She decided that wouldn't let Sasuke leave.

She would keep him there.

She had to do something.

But what?

Then, just as she felt sick apprehension pool in her stomach, he spoke. "Your glass is empty," he told her.

Her head turned. Her eyes were already glowing from the amount of wine she had consumed during her meal making her smile more ready than usual.

Sasuke reached out to the decanter. She wordlessly watched him fill both their glasses.

She picked up her glass, taking several nerve-bolstering sips of the wine.

He leant back in his chair. The gesture made the fine material of his dress shirt tauten across his chest, broadening his shoulders.

Her nerves were all over the place.

Any minute now he could glance at his watch, and murmur politely that he must go, or someone from another table could come up and start talking to him, cutting her out.

She had to act now. But how exactly did a woman approach a man? Aside from revealing the secrets of what happened between the opposite sex behind closed doors, Itachi had only advised her on the scents and colours to wear. That was as far as showing her the ropes went and Tenten had a feeling she was hanging herself with the small length of it that she got.

"Mr. Uchiha—" Her voice came out high pitched but she forced herself to go on. It felt weird using Itachi's surname like this. "Mr. Uchiha, I was wondering if I could have a word with you?"

Something changed about him. She didn't know what. But there was a sudden, instant edge of tension. She heaved a sigh, her gaze fluttering nervously away from his, "In—in private?" she added, her voice breathy.

For a moment his eyes were veiled, unreadable.

She mentally crossed her fingers, praying to the heavens that he didn't say no.

Then, slowly, he set his glass down.

"I don't see why that should be a problem," he replied. His eyes seemed to flicker over her, brushing like a very fine breath. He got to his feet. "I'm sure, we can find some place private," he said, looking down at her.

His voice was smooth, but it was like the smoothness of a sea where deep currents lurked beneath.

The breath she took felt like a pebble had fallen into her lungs.

Tenten gave a hesitant smile and stood up. He was tall, she realized, pausing to stoop and pick up her handbag. Then, with her heart beating like a drum, she let him usher her from the banqueting hall.

She didn't miss the crooked smirk Orochimaru's lawyer sent them as he straightened his glasses on the bridge of his nose when they separated from the rest of the party.

As Sasuke steered her out, Tenten paused and turned. Her stomach was churning again, and she fought to subdue her nerves. Yet at the same time relief was surging through her.

She had done it.

She was getting him alone.

Damn it, if only Itachi had wanted him dead on the spot, Tenten pouted. Killer instincts laying to rest.

"Thank you for agreeing to—"

"This way," he cut across her careful speech with a murmur and ushered her upstairs.

She smirked.

He pushed open a door and they were in a pleasant square hall tiled for coolness, the richness of their design offset by the stark white walls and modern lighting. Then he stopped in front of another door. And the room door that he opened was the master bedroom.

For a second Tenten hesitated. Then she crushed the feeling down. If the target was inviting her into his bedroom, why should she object? Her mission was practically completing itself.


A/N: Here's an early update because I won't be around for the weekend. Apologies!

If you're a long time follower of mine this chapter might've reminded you of something in a SasuTen fic I had posted and deleted last year January. I don't think people would've been able to handle the amount of fucked up shit in it, so I had scrapped the story. But alas, I have resurrected tiny bits of it and tossed the King (Itachi) into the mix.

I totally fangirled over your responses to this mess :P It surprised me that people were actually interested. Thank you so much for the support. Your enthusiasm feeds my own. Thanks for reading. Reviews are always appreciated ;) I will love you forever.