Suigetsu Hōzuki cannot stand Karin Uzumaki.
Every morning, she marches into the office like she owns the place (which, technically, she kind of does—at least, she acts like it). She doesn’t just walk; she commands space. It’s the sharp clack of her heels against the marble floors, the unmistakable scent of something dark and heady in her perfume, the way her fitted pencil skirts hug every curve with infuriating precision. She always has something to say—always barking orders at him like he’s one of the desperate interns, not one of Orochimaru’s favorites.
And right now, she’s at it again.
Suigetsu leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as Karin slams her palms onto his desk, red manicured nails clicking against the glass surface. “Hōzuki.” Her voice drips with exasperation. “Do you even do anything around here, or do you just sit on your ass all day and collect a paycheck?”
He sighs, rolling his eyes, because of course she’s here to nag him. She always is. Karin’s job title might be something official—something stupidly important that means she’s in charge of things—but as far as Suigetsu is concerned, she’s just Orochimaru’s little pet, running around, making sure everything runs smoothly. And making his life miserable in the process.
“You’re in my office again,” he drawls, tossing a pen into the air and catching it between two fingers. “Shouldn’t you be off harassing someone else? Maybe torturing interns?”
Karin’s lips press into a thin line, and he knows he’s getting under her skin. Good. She deserves it.
“You were supposed to have those reports on my desk this morning.”
“Oh, were they supposed to be on your desk? My bad.” He flashes a lazy grin. “I must’ve forgotten.”
Her eye twitches, and she moves closer, leaning over his desk in a way that should be threatening—but it isn’t. Not when her silk blouse is unbuttoned just enough to reveal the delicate gold chain resting against her collarbone. Not when her fitted blazer does nothing to hide the curve of her waist. Not when her red-framed glasses slip down her nose as she glares at him, the deep crimson of them matching the color of her lipstick.
It’s the lipstick that gets him the most.
Dark. Bold. Dangerous. The kind that leaves a mark.
And damn it, Suigetsu hates that he notices.
She’s still ranting—something about responsibility, something about how she keeps everything running while he slacks off—but he isn’t listening anymore. He’s watching the way she gestures sharply with one hand, nails glinting under the office lights. He’s watching the way her hair, wild and untamed despite her obvious efforts to smooth it down, falls over her shoulder in waves. He’s watching her mouth, the way her lips move around every clipped syllable, the way they purse when he smirks—
And oh. That’s funny.
Because he is smirking now.
Karin catches it instantly. She narrows her eyes. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says, but his smirk only deepens.
Her suspicion flares. “No. What?”
He shrugs. “Just—” His gaze flickers down, then back up. “Didn’t realize you dressed like this just to yell at me every day. Kind of flattering, don’t you think?”
And just like that, her entire face ignites.
It’s almost too easy.