Cozen

by Bethany-Kris

  Cozen trusted no one.

  She quickly moved further into the apartment, and toward the kitchen. Jett followed close behind which she considered a good thing. Maybe if she kept his attention on where she wanted it to go, he would overlook the emptiness of her place.

  “How long have you lived here?” he asked.

  Shit.

  Nope.

  No luck at all.

  “A few months,” Cozen said. “Shortly before I started working at the restaurant.”

  “It’s very …”

  His gaze drifted around.

  “Empty, I know.”

  “A little, darling, yeah.”

  Cozen shrugged. “Work keeps me busy, and by the time I get home, I am way too tired to be worrying about filling this place up with stuff. I’m a bit of a minimalist, anyway.”

  All lies.

  Jett ate them up, though. “I see. I didn’t mean to just show up. That’s not usually my style.”

  Again, he came closer. Again, she was aware of being alone, and unable to get out.

  Cozen had sort of backed herself into a proverbial corner because she couldn’t move without making it obvious to Jett that she was attempting to get away from him. The goddamn kitchen island was right behind her. She didn’t want to offend the man by making him think that she didn’t want his attention, or that his physical affection wasn’t invited.

  That would be a quick way to remove her from his life. No man wanted to feel rejected and disabused by a woman, after all.

  Cozen needed to stay in.

  So, she forced herself not to turn into a statue as Jett came closer. His hands skimmed her trim waist before he rested his palms down on the counter behind her. It effectively locked her into place so that she couldn’t go anywhere at all.

  Jett came closer still—he really was a handsome man for his age with only that slight bit of salt coloring up his dark hair and a few laugh lines around his eyes. Men were lucky that way. They only became better looking with time. Like a fine wine.

  None of that helped Cozen, though.

  She did not use sex to get what she wanted. She had never needed to fuck anyone to get a job done, and she wasn’t about to start now.

  Jett reached up, and his thumb stroked across her lips. “My son mentioned running into you today.”

  Cozen swallowed hard. “Did he?”

  Her words whispered along the pad of his thumb.

  “He did. I apologize for the way he might have acted.”

  Cozen lifted a single brow high. “He didn’t tell you how he acted?”

  “I got a good enough impression. He won’t do it again.”

  “Okay.”

  What else could she say?

  Jett stroked her lips again, and then said, “He’s entirely wrong about you, Cozen. There is far more about you that I am interested in other than how beautiful you are. Mind you, that is also a very important part.”

  “He mentioned a party,” Cozen said.

  If she kept him talking, she might be able to keep their distance at a respectable space. Not that he wasn’t already beyond that line—and getting closer to her with every breath.

  “Yes, I wanted to ask you about that. A new dress, pretty shoes, and you can have your pampering day again,” Jett said, smiling softly. “What do you think?”

  “I would love that.”

  “Good.”

  With that, Jett finally closed the distance between them. Cozen had not been expecting the kiss, as it came without warning, and she had all she could do not to turn into a cold, unmovable statue.

  Somehow.

  Jett’s hands left the counter, and grabbed tight to her waist before he dragged her impossibly closer. Panic welled inside her because this was an even more delicate dance, now. She couldn’t stiffen for fear he would feel it and know she was a liar. She couldn’t respond more than a closed mouth kiss because she would not be able to hide her disinterest or disgust.

  She was a good actress.

  A damn good liar.

  Not that good, though.

  It was only when his tongue struck out against the seam of her lips that Cozen decided enough was enough. A ringing phone saved her from making it an issue. Her phone.

  Thank God.

  Cozen pulled away from Jett with a small smile. “Sorry, let me grab that. I’ve been waiting for a call about—”

  Jett’s gaze had darkened with desire, and he didn’t try to hide it as he looked her over. “No worries, darling.”

  He wanted more.

  Far more.

  Cozen could see it, and she had to figure out a way to get him out of her apartment before she was stuck doing something she would very much regret. For now, she focused on the ringing phone. She found it in her purse by the front door, and didn’t bother to check the caller ID before she answered the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Cozen, it’s Fourth.”

  Jett rounded the corner in the hallway at the same time.

  “F—”

  “Astor,” the man murmured on the phone.

  Oh, shit.

  “Now is not a good time,” Cozen said.

  Putting it lightly.

  “Any time an Astor calls is always the right time. Good is a matter of semantics, and you answered the phone.”

  Fuck.

  “Cozen, is everything all right?” Jett asked at the end of the hall.

  “Oh, you have guests?” Fourth asked. “I hope you’re not lounging around when you’re supposed to be getting my grandmother’s fucking ring. Speaking of which—why do you keep ignoring our phone calls?”

  “Cozen?”

  Jett again.

  “Well?”

  And then Fourth.

  What had she gotten herself in to this time?

  Sargon itched to do anything but what he was doing in those moments. His gaze hadn’t left Cozen’s apartment door from the second Jett had disappeared inside, and he heard the click of it shutting completely. He was frozen in place, and counting down the minutes of how long the man had been in there.

  Alone.

  With her.

  Seven, now.

  Seven minutes, but almost eight.

  Closer to eight than seven.

  Jesus.

  Too damn long.

  Long enough for him to have touched her. For him to have kissed her. For him to have had her, too, if he was the type to finish quite sadly and quickly.

  The jealousy burned bright and hot in Sargon’s gut. The rage was far worse—an uncontrollable inferno threatening to swallow him entirely whole. Every short, painful breath he took only made it that much worse, too. Like wind fanning the flames. And yet, if he didn’t take those short, painful breaths, he couldn’t remain calm and steady.

  It was a double-edged sword.

  Every part of him screamed to go—to move—and do something. Interrupt whatever was happening in some way. Maybe a simple knock on the door would do it.

  But then what?

  What would he say to justify his sudden appearance? The excuse of a fake emergency might work, but only until Jett figured out there was no emergency to leave for. Sargon would then have to explain all of that nonsense.

  It was a lose-lose situation.

  He stayed put even though it almost killed him to do so. Even though the rage and jealousy continued to wreak havoc on his thoughts and heart, he didn’t move a muscle.

  She can handle herself.

  She knows what she’s doing.

  It was the jiggle of a doorknob, and the creak of an opening door that brought Sargon from his thoughts—for the briefest second, his mask had almost slipped off. Even in his thoughts, he kept that mask on.

  He had to.

  It was how this always worked.

  “Come,” he heard ordered.

  Down the hall, a very frustrated Jett stood waiting for him. Maybe Sargon really was losing his goddam mind. The man waved a hand at him impatiently, and then shot a loo
k over his shoulder when the apartment door was closed again. A deep scowl etched its way onto the man’s face.

  “Well, what are you doing still standing there, Sargon?” Jett demanded.

  Well …

  Sargon raised a brow. “The car is out this way, Jett.”

  “Oh … yes, that’s right. Let’s go then.”

  Jett stormed down the hallway looking no different than he had before he went into Cozen’s apartment. It was the second thing Sargon noticed about his boss after the frustration he showcased. His suit wasn’t crumpled, and his salt and pepper hair was still perfectly slicked back.

  The deepening scowl the man continued to wear only confirmed it further—he had gotten nowhere with Cozen. Nowhere physically, anyway. Nothing that would be worth doing if he was still perfectly coifed in every way. Certainly not enough to satisfy whatever Jett was looking for, or whatever he went into that apartment wanting to do.

  The frustration made sense. That woman could frustrate anyone with the way she teased and went on. Sargon knew that firsthand.

  Sargon followed behind Jett as the two navigated the stairs leading to the back door of the apartment building. Jett, who was usually quite animated and liked to talk, now seemed to have nothing to say at all.

  “Where to now?” Sargon asked as they headed out of the apartment building. “We have other things to do today, don’t we?”

  He was fine, now.

  The further away Jett was from Cozen, the better Sargon felt.

  “Home,” Jett said in a grunt.

  “I thought you mentioned a meet—”

  Jett waved a hand high. “I want to go home, so take me there.”

  “Whatever you want, boss.”

  Sargon sped up his strides to move ahead of Jett, and open the back passenger door of the black Mercedes. Jett slipped in without as much as a thank you, and Sargon closed the door after him. The whole time, Jett kept his eyes averted to anywhere but on Sargon.

  Shame, he thought.

  Or it could have been embarrassment.

  For men, those two things were one in the same. At least, it certainly felt that way when it came to women. Men did not like the way rejection from a woman felt when they thought they were God’s gift to womankind.

  It would all be amusing.

  If it wasn’t so fucking disgusting.

  Sargon quickly slipped into the driver’s seat, and before long had the car on the road. They were driving for a good thirty minutes or more before Jett finally spoke from the backseat. Sargon almost wished the man had just stayed quiet.

  “She plays games,” Jett muttered.

  “Who?”

  He knew who.

  Sargon didn’t want Jett to know that he knew who, though.

  “Cozen,” Jett said flatly.

  In the rearview mirror, Sargon could see Jett staring out the window. The scowl the man had been sporting was now replaced with something of a pensive stare. Hard, cold eyes that showcased no emotions when they drifted in Sargon’s direction like Jett knew the man was watching him or something.

  It was with that look Jett wore that Sargon knew—Cozen was about to find herself in a whole lot of trouble.

  Her tricks were no longer working for Jett. The things that might have been drawing the man back to her time and time again before were no longer interesting to him.

  “Maybe she enjoys that sort of thing—the cat and mouse, if you get what I mean. There are some woman who think that’s foreplay. They like to push you away for as long as they can before you finally catch them.”

  The words made Sargon even more pissed off, but he managed to say them without the bite to his tone. Somehow.

  It was a fucking miracle, really.

  Jett made a noise under his breath, and went back to staring out the window. “No, I don’t think that’s the case here. And if it is, I am not interested in the cat and mouse any longer. I think I have chased her more than long enough, don’t you?”

  Sargon chose not to answer.

  Jett apparently didn’t need him to when he added, “I will get what I want from that woman one way or the other, and soon. I think I have made my intentions with her more than clear. I always get what I want in the end.”

  Well, what was it that Jett wanted?

  Sargon knew better than to ask. He didn’t think he would like the answer if he did.

  So he didn’t ask.

  He didn’t say anything at all.

  “You busy?”

  Cozen’s head snapped to the side when Sargon asked his question. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here more often than you realize, Zen.”

  “I realize,” she returned just as fast. “I just don’t usually see you.”

  Sargon shrugged. “Again, are you busy?”

  “Kind of working.”

  “Take your break.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can.”

  He snagged her arm in his grasp, and pulled her off the restaurant floor. The patrons whose orders she had been taking before he stepped in didn’t look very pleased to have their server removed.

  Oh, well.

  Sargon wouldn’t be long with Cozen. He only showed himself to give her a warning, and let her do with it what she wanted. Then, she could go back to work like nothing had even happened.

  “What are you doing?” Cozen hissed.

  He didn’t let her go until they were at the very end of a back hallway in the restaurant. The offices were further up, but all the doors were closed. For a moment, they had a few seconds of privacy. That’s all Sargon needed.

  Once he stopped, Cozen jerked her arm out of his hold. “What in the hell are you trying to pull with manhandling me like that?”

  “You weren’t going to come with me.”

  Her russet gaze narrowed. “I am working!”

  “This is important, Cozen.”

  “What is?”

  “Jett—that’s what.”

  Cozen stilled on the spot. “What about Jett?”

  “Whatever little stunt you pulled on him yesterday in your apartment … he’s not pleased about it. The little cat and mouse game you’ve got going on with him? He’s over it.”

  “I didn’t pull anything,” she said quietly.

  “Nothing?”

  “He … kissed me.”

  Sargon stiffened a bit. “And what?”

  “And it got interrupted by a phone call.”

  “Does that happen a lot?”

  “What, the kissing or the phone call?”

  “Both, I suppose. Him being physical, and interruptions in general?”

  “Lately he’s trying to be more physical in his affections,” Cozen said. “And yes, I have been trying to distract them elsewhere if I can.”

  Sargon wet his lips, and stared over Cozen’s shoulder at a space down the hall. He didn’t stare at anything in particular, but it gave him a moment to think without looking at her. He couldn’t think properly when he was staring at her.

  “What are you doing?” he finally asked.

  “I don’t—”

  “With him, Cozen. Stop playing this fucking shit with me. Jett is not the kind of man you screw around with. He no longer likes your games, and if you continue to play them with him, you’re going to find yourself in a world of trouble. So just tell me … what is it you want from him?”

  “It’s not him,” she muttered.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Something he has.”

  Sargon didn’t entirely know what to make of that statement. She was here to take something from Jett—to steal?

  “Except you’ve gotten tangled up with him in a personal way, now,” Sargon said. “Was that part of your plan, too?”

  “Do you need me to answer that?”

  Sargon’s jaw hardened. “He’s settled himself with the idea that you owe him something, Cozen. And he wants to collect.”

  She straightened a bit in her heels, a
nd nodded once. “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “I’ve almost got what I want. And then it’ll be over with.”

  “Are you—”

  “I have to get back to work,” she interrupted. “Thanks for letting me know … this, I guess. It helps.”

  “Helps with what, Zen?”

  Cozen didn’t answer. Instead, she turned on her heel, and moved to head back down the hallway. Sargon couldn’t let that happen. Either she didn’t care that her safety was in jeopardy, or she was willing to risk it.

  Either way, that didn’t sit well with him.

  Sargon didn’t let her get very far. He grabbed her wrist hard, and pulled her back around. Anger flashed on her face, and he saw her swinging hand coming in just enough time to catch it before she landed the well-aimed slap.

  Instead of the slap, he pulled her in close, and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. Instantly, her body relaxed in his arms, and her lips moved in a familiar rhythm against his. The second her lips parted to allow him entrance, he deepened the kiss to get another taste of her sweet heat.

  She still tasted like cherries and vanilla.

  Sweetness and sin.

  Her hands came up to grab his jaw as their tongues warred against one another. Those fingernails of hers—always manicured to sharp little points—dug into his skin and left one hell of a sting behind.

  But he loved it.

  Jesus, he loved it.

  And her, he thought.

  He loved her.

  It was a strange feeling, but it was true. A thick rope wrapped around his heart and with every tug from Cozen—her words or her actions—the rope became tighter. Pulling him even closer to her.

  Somehow, he did. Somehow, this happened. Somehow, he too had found himself tangled in a mess with this woman.

  If only …

  Cozen pulled away, and her gaze dropped from his. “Again, I have to get back to work, but thank you for—”

  “You’re not being safe, Cozen. This is not a game.”

  “It’s always a game when there’s a prize to be won.”

  “Just say it,” he murmured. “Say it, and it ends. I will make sure of it.”