Page 61 of Kotori
16
Kaito
Shethinksshecanchallenge my authority over my own daughter and simply walk away.
I watch her flee my study through the security monitors, her arrogance finally cracking under the weight of reality. The way she moves—quick, panicked steps that speak of prey finally recognizing the predator—sends satisfaction coursing through my veins like expensive sake.
But satisfaction isn't enough. Not tonight.
She crossed a line that can't be uncrossed, questioned decisions that aren't hers to question, and interfered with family matters using the naive belief that American idealism trumps centuries of established order. The kind of disrespect that demands immediate correction.
I finish reviewing the evening's business correspondence, letting anticipation build while she paces her room and tries to convince herself that tomorrow's consequences might be survivable. The security feed shows her checking her doormultiple times, testing the handle like she's finally understood the nature of her beautiful cage.
Smart girl. Too late, but smart.
At exactly midnight, I make the call. Tomorrow, technically.
"Hayashi. Bring Williams-san to my private quarters. She requires immediate instruction."
"Matsumoto-sama?" There's uncertainty in her voice—this isn't a request she's heard before. "What type of preparation should I—"
"She'll need to be bathed. Hair brushed. The white cotton yukata, nothing else." I pause, considering how much to reveal. "And Hayashi... she may resist. Ensure she understands that cooperation is not optional."
The silence stretches longer this time. When Hayashi speaks again, her voice carries the careful neutrality of someone navigating unfamiliar territory. "Hai, Matsumoto-sama. I will ensure her compliance."
"Good. She's to be brought to me within the hour."
I end the call and move to my closet, switching from business attire to a simple black yukata that hangs loose around my frame.
The antique armoire yields what I need—silk rope in deep red, shibari technique passed down through generations of men who understood that some lessons require complete helplessness to truly penetrate. The rope feels perfect in my hands, smooth and strong, capable of holding struggling bodies without causing permanent damage.
Though I doubt she'll be struggling by the end of tonight's education.
My phone buzzes. A message from Hayashi: "Subject prepared. Awaiting instruction."
Perfect timing.
She kneels in the center of the room exactly as instructed, wearing nothing but a thin white cotton yukata that barely reaches mid-thigh. Her blonde hair has been brushed until it gleams like gold silk, falling in waves around her shoulders. Her hands rest palm-up on her thighs in perfect seiza position, but I can see the tremor in her fingers, the way her breathing comes in shallow gasps.
Fear. Arousal. Anticipation. The perfect combination for what comes next.
"Paige-san." I close the door behind me with deliberate finality. "Thank you for joining me."
Her blue eyes find mine, and I see the exact moment she understands that tonight's lesson won't involve discussion or negotiation. Only demonstration.
"Matsumoto-sama," she whispers, and the formal address carries the weight of someone who's finally grasped the hierarchy she's been fighting.
"Tell me," I say, moving to circle her kneeling form like a predator studying prey, "what did you hope to accomplish by questioning my decisions about Mizuki-chan?"
"I," She swallows hard, trying to find words that might save her. "I was trying to help. She was crying, and I thought—"
"You thought." I stop directly behind her, close enough that she can feel my body heat. "You thought your perspective was more valuable than sixteen generations of family wisdom. You thought your few weeks in this country qualified you to counsel my daughter about duties you couldn't possibly comprehend."
My hands settle on her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles, the way she fights not to lean back against me despite her body's obvious craving for contact.
"You thought," I continue, letting my voice drop to something intimate and dangerous, "that challenging my authority wouldsomehow benefit my child rather than undermining everything this family represents."
"I just wanted her to be happy," she breathes.
