A high-five full of ease.
My jaw flexed.
I didn’t like anyone touching her. Not even like that. Not even with laughter.
Then, she laughed some more.
I smiled. “Pause it.”
Goro tapped the screen.
The image froze.
Her smile lingered—lips parted, lashes lowered, cheeks glowing from champagne, sunlight, and laughter.
How does one catch a Tiger?
This was the sixth time I’d watched the footage. And still, I didn’t have the answer to that question.
I stared at the screen as if it might whisper a strategy.
A secret.
A spell.
It gave me nothing.
Just her laughter.
I let out a long breath. “You’re dismissed, Goro.”
The man lowered the screen, bowed, and turned to leave.
I watched him go. “Hold on to the iPad. Don’t take it too far. I may want to see it again.”
“Yes, sir.” Goro left.
I thought back to the hotel card I’d given her. Top floor. Private elevator. Rose-silk sheets and dragon motifs etched in gold. A view of Tokyo Bay stretched beneath the floor-to-ceiling windows— Skytree etched like a blade in the haze, the Rainbow Bridge glowing in arcs of light, and the Sumida River glinting below.
Why didn’t my plan work?
I hadn’t chosen the suite just for her comfort. It had been my little, clever prison-palace disguised as a gift. The suite was to be my window, so I could see her whenever I wanted. So I could know when she opened the curtains, when she stepped onto the balcony, when she breathed.
But the men outside that suite said she hadn’t entered.
Not once the entire day.
I didn’t understand it.
Would she ever go? How do I lure her there?
I stood in silence for a long time after Goro left and looked around the room as if somewhere in this space there would be an answer.
A lacquered chair of blackened cypress sat near the window, where my silk robe waited, untouched. Folded like a blade.
What will I do about my naughty Tiger?
It was night in Paris, but Tokyo had now seen a new morning where she’d woken up on that damn futon again.