Disclaimer: Naruto and the Tool are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the material. I don't own anything. I didn't write this story only put Naruto characters in place of the original characters. I didn't write this story only replaced various things. The original is by Sabrina Paige

Summary:

I call him "Tool" because he's a d*ck.Sasuke is nicknamed "Tool" because of what he's packing. Rumor is, he's well equipped.I wouldn't know. I've never had the pleasure.He's a cocky, entitled, insufferable a*hole who's as reckless with women as he is with that stupid motorcycle he races.He's also my stepbrother. Four years since he's made me so frustrated I could scream. Four years since he's given me that look, the one that makes me instantly wet.So it's just f*ing fitting that the first time I see him in four years, he's buried beneath three scantily clad blondes.Now I'm stuck here under the same roof with him while he recovers from a racing injury. An injury that clearly hasn't affected the use of his tool. The problem is, as much as I despise him, I just can't help myself. I want to find out what kind of tool he's working with.

Chapter 3

Sakura POV

"I thought I mentioned that Sakura was coming back." My father sips from a glass of scotch, talking to Sasuke. It's him and Sasuke and I for dinner. Mikoto had a headache, which is apparently a euphemism for drinking too much. I wonder how often she has headaches.

"I think I would have remembered that, Kizashi," Sasuke says, glancing at me. He smirks, and I can feel a flush spread up my chest all the way to my cheeks. I swear, if my father saw it… But Kizashi is busy sawing at his steak, blood oozing from the meat and pooling on his plate. I give Sasuke a cut-it-out look. Obviously Sasuke hasn't matured over the years. I resolve to tell him later to stop the shameless flirtation, but I'm not entirely convinced it wouldn't encourage him even more. In fact, I know it would. Sasuke has a rebellious streak a mile wide. Which is why I want to ask him why the hell he's back here, living under my father's roof. Or at least on my father's estate, anyway.

"Well, good Lord," Sasuke drawls, gesturing with his steak knife still in his hand. "I guess I've been so wrapped up in the buyout lately that I didn't even think about it." My father talks about his acquisition of a small natural energy company like it's some kind of new thing, but it's hardly news. He has an expansionist mentality and wants Haruno Oil to be a major player in terms of energy industries world-wide. "Of course, Sakura only just accepted my offer. Finally."

"You taught me to play hard to get," I say, spooning a forkful of mashed potatoes into my mouth. I wasn't playing hard to get, not really; this is my first job out of college, and my degree is in Asian studies. Against my mother's wishes, I followed my heart, and it's certainly not the most practical degree choice in the world.

No one was beating down my door to give me a job; and my mother, who's on her fourth marriage to a wealthy importer who spends most of his time overseas, couldn't even fathom why I would want to work instead of spending my days being a socialite in Suna. My father taught me to believe in working for a living; it helped that he convinced me to at least add another major to the mix and study business as well.

"Oh, really? Did he teach you that?" Sasuke asks. Then I feel the un-freaking-believable: Sasuke's hand on my leg. He gives my thigh a little squeeze, and I almost jumped out of my skin. And not just because I'm startled, either – but because his touch does what it did before. It sends warmth running through my body like an electric current. When I look up at him in shock, he's giving me that cocky smirk of his. Then he fucking winks. "Playing hard to get is underrated."

My father doesn't seem to notice what's happening. He cuts off another piece of steak, but pauses as he brings the fork to his mouth. "Which brings me to what I wanted to talk about at dinner. With both of you."

Sasuke squeezes my leg again, and I pick up my steak knife and point it in his direction, shooting him a warning look. He chuckles, but moves his hand away. If he thinks I'm still the girl he used to know, that I'm going to get involved in these kinds of juvenile games, he has another thing coming.

"What did you want to talk about, dad?" I ask.

"I'll get to it in a minute," Kizashi says. "The photo shoot went well? They got the product placement in there?"

"Done deal," Gaige says.

My father nods. "It's a good partnership, Haruno and your team. You're a hot brand. Even after that goddamned accident."

Sasuke rolls his eyes. "Well, it's good to know that at least I haven't ruined the brand," he says, his tone sarcastic.

The tone is lost on my father. "I've been giving some thought to your work role, Sakura," he says. "And this affects Sasuke."

I swallow hard. When my father sold me on coming to work for him, there was no mention of Sasuke being involved in any way. Sure, I'd heard that my father bought Sasuke's racing team a year ago, but I didn't think that meant Sasuke was living here. Or that he was actually working with my father. I mean, what the hell does the CEO of a company do with a racing team, anyway? I figured it was one of those things my father bought for fun and then handed off to someone else to deal with.

"I'm all ears," Sasuke says. I can feel him looking at me and I pointedly snub him. After he put his hand on my leg, the only appropriate response is to ignore his antics, possibly forever. I reach for my water glass to distract myself from Sasuke's gaze.

"I want you on Sasuke," Beau says.

I choke on my sip of water, coughing loudly. Beside me, I think I hear Sasuke chuckle. Screw him if he thinks this is funny.

"Are you okay?" Kizashi asks.

"Water…wrong…pipe," I gasped.

"I'm sure it's not that she doesn't want to work with me," Sasuke says.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kizashi says. "Why wouldn't she want to work with you? You're family. She hasn't even heard what I need her for yet."

Family. I cough a few more times before I speak, hoping my tone conveys the level of irritation that I feel. "Why are you both talking about me like I'm not even here?"

Sasuke leans toward my father. "Well, she seems rather sensitive this evening."

Kizashi chortles. "Don't wind her up," he says. "You know, I remember she used to get like this when she was younger, too. Mood swings, hormones, you know."

Heat rises to my face, and I push my chair away from the table, standing and throwing my napkin on my plate. "Would you say something like that to a female employee?"

My father stares at me and blinks. I'm fairly certain he'd never expect such a reaction from me. "Of course not," he says. "I was only joking."

"This is exactly the reason I wasn't sure I wanted to come back here to work for you," I say, trying to maintain my composure. "Because I was afraid you wouldn't treat me professionally."

My father gives me a long look, then clears his throat. "You're right."

I am? Has Hell frozen over? I don't think I've ever heard my father admit I was right, not once in my whole life. "I am," I say, steadying my voice.

"I wouldn't have made that comment to a female employee, and it was inappropriate to say to you. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. Now. Will you listen to what I have to say? I want you working with Sasuke."

"Me?" I ask, my tone suddenly an octave higher. "Why?"

"Will you please sit?" Kizashi asks.

I sink into my seat. I absolutely, positively, in no way, shape, or form, can spend time working with Sasuke.

I think of that last kiss, four years ago, the kiss I swear still lingers on my lips. I think of Sasuke sweeping the hair away from my forehead earlier, the arousal that coursed through me at his touch.

And then I think of Sasuke's reputation, his revolving door of women. The fact that he seems to have the innate ability to push all of my buttons and irritate the shit out of me.

And the fact that he's my damn stepbrother.

But overriding everything, all I can think about when I look at him now is the unfinished business that hangs in the air between us.

Working with Sasuke would be way too damn dangerous. I can't think of anything that would be worse.

"I have news that affects both of you." Kizashi's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Sasuke knows most of this, but not all of it. Haruno Oil needs a face of the company, someone the public associates with us. Someone sexy."

Sasuke laughs.

"No offense, Sasuke," Kizashi drawls. "I mean sexy in a business sense. Sasuke is perfect. He draws in the male and female demographic. He's going to do for Haruno what the race car drivers do for other companies."

My father refuses to actually name his competitors in private, instead referring to them as "that other organization" or "the one with the idiot CEO."

"Okay," I say. I'm failing to anticipate how this is going to involve me. My father promised me an entry-level position, something a normal college graduate would have. Please, please, please, I silently beg the universe, do not let this be the kind of thing where I have to get coffee for Sasuke or something equally humiliating.

"This is a huge deal," Kizashi says. "And we're partnering with one of the biggest motorcycle manufacturers in the world for a Japanese tour during the off season, during which Sasuke is going to promote Haruno Oil at every opportunity. There's the potential for them to sign on to use Sasuke in major promotion in the future. And Haruno Oil."

"Congratulations," I say, nodding at Sasuke, who's smiling like the cat that ate the canary. I'm afraid to ask what he might be thinking. I look warily at my father.

"I want you on Sasuke in Japan," he says.

"Me?" I squeak.

No, no, no. Hell, no. The words echo in my head.

"Wait. What?" Sasuke asks. He sounds as surprised as I am.

"Shouldn't someone more…I don't know, experienced…go with Sasuke?"

"And someone who's not my stepsister," Sasuke says. Now he doesn't sound surprised; he sounded irritated. Why shouldn't he want to go with me? I'm the one who shouldn't want to go with him. "You didn't mention this before."

"I didn't mention it because I hadn't realized yet how useful Sakura would be," Kizashi says. "Besides, there will be plenty of experienced people – the company rep and Sasuke's staff."

What the what? Sasuke has staff?

"But, I don't understand," I say. This entire situation refuses to compute in my brain. "Why would you need me?"

Sasuke makes a sound under his breath. "Don't you get it?" he asks. "So you can be my fucking babysitter."

"You speak Japanese," Kizashi says.

"But surely there are translators."

"Not ones I'd trust the way I trust you," he says.

"Exactly," Sasuke says. He stands up. "Your father wants to negotiate me being the face of Haruno Oil, but he doesn't actually think I'm capable of doing just that."

I look up at Sasuke, suddenly torn between feeling completely weird and awkward about this position, and defending my father. "I'm sure that's not what he's saying. Right, dad?"

But my father hesitates a second too long, and Sasuke pushes himself away from the table. "That's exactly what he's saying," he says. "Come on, Sakura. This is a great opportunity for you. When else in your life are you going to get a chance to babysit the famous train wreck, Sasuke Uchiha?"

Sasuke doesn't say anything else, just storms out of the room, and I'm left sitting there at the table with my father, the air in the room tense.

"Dad," I start. "Am I just going to be a glorified babysitter? Surely someone else would be better for that than his own step sister. Like his manager or something."

"I didn't want Sasuke to take it that way," he says. "But…"

"But it's true." I don't even bother to hide my groan. "Come on, dad…"

"Sasuke is going to do wonders as the face of Haruno Oil. We're too uncool; we need someone exactly like him to make oil young and hot. Oil isn't sexy now."

"But Sasuke is unpredictable."

"He's like a horse that needs broken," Kizashi says. "He needs to be kept from pulling stupid stunts like the one that got his leg messed up, and from picking up the wrong girls in Japan."

"I shouldn't be the one to –"

"I would very much like if you would do this. Give it some thought. You're not leaving immediately. It won't be until the end of next month. You both have a while to get used to the idea."

I would very much like if you would do this. There's a reason my father has gotten where he has in life. He has a way of issuing demands without making them sound like demands. His requests are never actually requests. They're orders. It's actually rather Japanese of him; I wonder if he knows that.

"Dad, you can't think that I'm going to be the one to keep him in line overseas," I protest.

"That's exactly what I need you to do," Kizashi says. "I have full confidence in you. I can't trust anyone else. You've always had a way with him, and he's always listened to you."

"What?" My voice is high pitched now. "That's not true. I haven't even seen him in years. We only spent two summers together after you and Mikoto got married. I hardly know him."

Kizashi shrugs. "He respects you."

I almost burst out laughing, but I know my father would be terribly offended. "I hardly think that's true. Sasuke doesn't respect anyone."

"You'll keep him out of trouble," Kizashi rises from his seat and comes around to my side of the table, putting his arm around my shoulder and giving it a squeeze. He kisses me on the top of the head the way he used to do when I was young. "I trust you. And I'm glad you're home. I think I might just be the proudest father in the world, getting the chance to work with his daughter."

"Damn, you really know how to work people, Dad." I shake my head. The last thing I want to do is babysit Sasuke, and yet here I am acting as if it's a foregone conclusion already.

"I know you'll do the right thing, Sakura," he says, before he leaves.

Disclaimer: Naruto and the Tool are the property of their respective owners. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of the material. I don't own anything. I didn't write this story only put Naruto characters in place of the original characters. I didn't write this story only replaced various things. The original is by Sabrina Paige