Page 66 of Kotori
The simple statement sends an electric current through my body. Here. He's here. After three weeks of trying to forget the taste of him, the feel of his hands in my hair, the way he made me abandon every scrap of shame I had.
"Thank you for telling me," I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.
She studies me for a moment longer. "He's different when you're around," she says finally. "I haven't decided if that's good or bad yet."
Before I can respond, she's gone, leaving me alone with the cicadas and my racing thoughts.
I'minmyroom—atleast he gave me that much, my own space with a lock I can control—when I hear the distinctive sound of the Mercedes on the gravel driveway. My fingers freeze on the book I've been pretending to read for the past hour, heart hammering against my ribs like it might break free.
Don't go to the window. Don't look. Don't give him the satisfaction.
But my traitorous body is already moving, drawing back the light summer curtain just enough to see the black car gliding to a stop at the front entrance. Security materializes from the shadows, the choreography of protection so familiar now that I barely notice it.
And then he's there, stepping out of the backseat with that trademark confidence that makes my mouth go dry. Even after an international flight, Kaito Matsumoto looks immaculate—charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, dark hairslightly longer than before but still impeccably styled. Power and control in human form.
I let the curtain fall back into place, breathing too fast. Three weeks should have been enough to break whatever spell he's cast over me. Three weeks of peace, of focusing on his daughters, of trying to forget the way he claimed me with such absolute certainty.
Instead, one glimpse of him and I'm already wet.
I hate him. I hate that he's turned me into this—someone who craves the very person who threatens my independence. Someone who dreams about his hands while cursing his name.
The house erupts with excited voices as his daughters greet him. Even through the closed door, I can hear Aya's delighted squeals and the quieter tones of his older daughters. Family reunited. Father home at last.
I should join them. It would be the appropriate thing to do as their teacher, to welcome him back with proper respect. Instead, I stay frozen by the window, waiting. For what, I'm not sure.
The knock, when it comes twenty minutes later, is so soft I almost think I've imagined it. But then it comes again, three gentle taps that make my pulse skyrocket.
I consider not answering. Pretending to be asleep or in the bath or simply not wanting to see him. But that would only delay the inevitable, and I've never been a coward.
When I open the door, he's standing there in a simple black t-shirt and jeans that somehow look more dangerous than his suits. I can see his irezumi tattoos on full display. Dragons, and flowers, and wind bars. It's more intimate. The casual clothes making him look almost normal, if not for the intensity in his dark eyes as they sweep over me.
"Paige." Just my name, without honorifics, without politeness. Like he owns it the same way he thinks he owns me.
"Matsumoto-sama." I keep my voice cool, formal. A reminder of boundaries he's already demolished. "Welcome back."
His lips curve in that slight smile that never quite reaches his eyes. "Not going to tell me you missed me?"
"I didn't."
"Liar." He doesn't move to enter, just watches me and makes my skin prickle with awareness. "My daughters seem well. You've taken good care of them."
"That's my job."
"And you do it well." He tilts his head slightly, studying me. "But that's not all you do well, is it, kotori?"
Heat floods my cheeks at the memory his words evoke. "Is there something you wanted?" I ask, hating how breathless I sound.
"Many things." His voice drops lower, intimate. "But for now, I came to tell you we'll be attending the Tanabata festival tomorrow night. The girls are excited to share it with you."
The way he says "share" makes it sound like something entirely different. "I'm aware. We were discussing their wishes today."
"And what will you wish for, I wonder?" He doesn't wait for an answer, just traces one finger along the doorframe, the casual gesture somehow loaded with meaning. "Wear the blue yukata Hayashi has prepared for you. It matches your eyes."
Of course he's already chosen my clothes. Of course he's already planned how I'll look on his arm, what I'll wear while he parades me around as his possession.
"Maybe I'll pick my own clothes," I say, chin lifting in defiance.
His smile widens slightly, humoring me before delivering his verdict. "You could. But you'll wear the blue yukata." Not a request. A certainty. "My girls want to see you in traditional dress."
