Cozen

by Bethany-Kris

  She knew those thoughts were garbage.

  Self-doubt creeping in.

  Anxiety working through.

  She could do this—she would do this.

  She didn’t give a fuck if she had to blow a wall out of the man’s house to get it done—she would do it.

  Somehow.

  “Zen!”

  Cozen blinked out of her daze, and found the manager leaning out the back door. It seemed like her fifteen minute break was up, apparently.

  Joy.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Your favorite patron just walked in. He’s asking for you. Get back to work.”

  Cozen swallowed hard. “Jett, you mean.”

  It wasn’t even a question.

  Chase nodded. “Yeah, Jett. He’s—”

  “In the private room, I know.”

  For a moment, Cozen considered lying about having a migraine just so she could go home. Over the last week, she hadn’t needed to deal with Jett all that much as he seemed to be in the middle of a lot of business and his upcoming party. His dinners at the restaurant were shorter, and he had not taken Cozen out to dinner, a show, or anything else for that matter.

  He did still have someone—probably Sargon—watching her every move. She only suspected it was Sargon because she could feel that man’s eyes on her when he was looking at her. No one else made her feel that way.

  “Well, hurry it up,” Chase barked.

  The exit door swung closed.

  Cozen sighed, and pushed off the wall. She fixed her hair by running her fingers through the strands a bit, and put her game face on.

  Sure enough, Jett was already looking in the direction of the private dining room’s entrance when Cozen walked in. His gaze scanned her over, and he didn’t even try to hide the way he lingered on her breasts under the tight, black bodycon dress, or the shape of her hips. Inside, she felt disgust. Outside, she kept her smile firmly in place.

  “Hey, you,” she said.

  Across from Jett at the table, Sargon kept his gaze trained firmly on the phone in his hands. Cozen was grateful.

  “Good afternoon to you, darling,” Jett replied.

  Cozen came to stand beside Jett, and moved to pull out her pad and pen to scratch down his order. She didn’t get the chance.

  Jett pulled her in his lap.

  In his lap.

  She stiffened at the sudden change, but thankfully, Jett didn’t seem to notice as his hands skimmed her thighs. He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, and then used two gentle fingers to move the few strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes out of her face.

  Across the table, Sargon finally looked up.

  Heat blazed in his gaze.

  Hatred swam heavily.

  Not for her.

  She thought, never for her.

  “My apologies,” Jett murmured in her ear, “but I missed you. I’ve been way too busy lately, haven’t I?”

  Cozen let out a little laugh, and tried to relax a little more. It was hard to do when the man was touching her, his lips were close enough to kiss her, and another man who tempted her at every step was only a couple of feet away.

  “I have to work,” Cozen teased.

  “Ah.”

  Jett gave a little grunt, and pushed her up from his lap with a slight pat to her backside. Cozen didn’t miss how Sargon’s gaze narrowed at that sight, either. But when Jett looked in the direction of his bodyguard—wasn’t that Sargon’s job for Jett?—the man was looking back down at the phone in his hands again.

  “We’ll have lots of time to catch up soon,” Jett told her, smiling cunningly. “The party is coming up—I intend to spend a good portion of my night catching up with you, Cozen.”

  She didn’t think he meant that literally. More like he planned on doing something else with her entirely.

  Great.

  Cozen had never needed to give up her body before for the sake of a heist. Somehow, she always found a way around it. Trickery, or whatever the case may be.

  She wasn’t that thief.

  She stayed true.

  Jett didn’t look like he planned on giving her much of a choice.

  And time was still running out.

  The knock on Cozen’s apartment door sent her out of the meditational heaven she had finally just achieved. All it took was a knock to pull her out of it almost violently, really.

  Shame.

  Cozen knew what was going to be waiting on the other side of the door before she even opened it. The week had flown by fast—Friday settled closer and closer with every beat of her heart.

  Tonight was the night.

  Showtime.

  Cozen pulled open the door, and was immediately bombarded with people. One carried a garment bag slung over their arm. Another carried two large silver cases—makeup, likely. Right behind the girl with the makeup came another woman wielding clear cases full of different hair products and tools. A man dressed in a sharp black suit came in second to last with velvet boxes piled in his arms. Jewelry, probably.

  Jett’s people.

  Here to spoil her.

  Cozen put on a smile.

  A mask, now.

  She was anything but happy.

  “I think you’re going to like this dress, Miss Taylor,” the girl holding the garment bag said.

  The others started setting up on the small table and two chairs that Cozen had finally broken down and bought for the kitchen. She didn’t pay them any attention because for one, they weren’t speaking to her, either. And for two because they wouldn’t care to hear what she wanted for her hair and makeup. They were going to do whatever Jett had told them to do in order to get her ready for the party.

  Cozen didn’t need to be told.

  She knew.

  “Will I like it?” Cozen asked. “I didn’t pick it.”

  “Mr. Griffin assured me it is very much your style,” the woman said.

  “You’ll like the dress,” a voice murmured behind her. “But that’s about all you will like, sweetheart.”

  Cozen stiffened at his voice.

  Heat flooded her veins.

  Turning slightly, she found Sargon leaning in her doorway with his signature grin. Despite the playful note in his tone, and his sexy smile, she found discomfort and unhappiness staring back in his eyes.

  She hated that was because of her.

  Because of this.

  Cozen glanced back at the woman. “Let me see it, then. The dress, I mean.”

  The woman smiled brilliantly. “Of course.”

  Soon, the garment bag was unzipped, and torn away from the dress it was keeping hidden. The woman—and Sargon—had not been lying. She did love the beautiful piece of art that was this dress.

  A dark wine-colored evening gown with long sleeves, a deep V-neck plunge in the front and back, with enough length to sweep the floor, and a slit that went all the way up the entire skirt. A wrong step, a move too fast in one direction, and a woman would probably flash more of her private bits than she intended to.

  Five white pearl buttons closed the back of the dress at the mid-spine, but was still a deep enough plunge in the back to show off all kinds of skin. The deep red color of the fabric was rich, and vibrant.

  “Red is my color,” Cozen murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Wonderful,” the woman said. “And you have the proper shoes to match. I have all your sizes, so I have no doubt everything will be a perfect fit.”

  Of course, she did.

  Jett would have made sure of it.

  The woman turned around to handle the other people, and it gave Cozen a second to let her mask slip. Not to mention, breathe. She spun on her heel to face Sargon who had also let his grin flatten into a grim line.

  His sharp jaw was so tight, she could practically feel his irritation and stress wafting from him. She had to be careful with what she said to him with these people around—she didn’t know how close any of them were to Jett except for the fact that he kep
t sending them anytime Cozen needed to be dressed properly for something.

  “The red is beautiful,” Sargon said quietly.

  “I wonder what made him pick it.”

  Sargon tipped his head to the side. “Could be that it matches the ring he intends to propose to you with. A beautiful ruby—keeps it hidden away in his office safe. Maybe he’s trying to find out if red really is your color, Cozen. Wasn’t that what you told him?”

  She didn’t miss the heat in his worlds.

  The fire in his eyes.

  Cozen heard other things, though.

  Important things.

  A ring; a ruby; an office safe.

  The rest was not important. The rest, she didn’t give a shit about because it would never come to fruition.

  Did he even realize the kind of information he just gave her, and how fucking valuable it was? A life saver, really. A confirmation she had been waiting for.

  “Did he make sure to put the ring back to keep it safe when he was done?” Cozen asked.

  Sargon’s gaze darkened as he stared hard at her. “That’s what you care to ask me right now?”

  “Yes.”

  The man nodded, and sneered. “Yeah, Zen, he put it back.”

  Perfect.

  Cozen was acutely aware of the eyes watching her as she moved through the Griffin mansion. Each step she took was careful and slow lest that slit in her red dress open a little too much and flash parts of her that were not meant for public consumption.

  She had lost sight of Sargon the moment he helped her out of the car, and Dash—Jett’s youngest son—was there to greet her, and take her inside to find his father.

  Guests turned to watch her walk by on the arm of a Griffin son, but she simply kept her head turned forward, and on her next task at hand. Dressed to the nines, everyone looked a hell of a lot like she did in that moment.

  Perfectly coifed.

  Beautifully dressed.

  Impeccable.

  Flawless.

  Fake.

  Dash patted Cozen’s hand tucked into his elbow. “I see why my father likes you so much, Cozen.”

  She gave him a smile. He was not like his older brother. Still just as arrogant and spoiled, sure, but he was not quick to insult her like Silas did every time she was in the man’s presence. It was a nice change.

  It wouldn’t last.

  “Thank you,” Cozen said.

  “Smile,” Dash murmured.

  “I am.”

  “Not nearly wide enough, Cozen. My father likes it when beautiful women smile like they mean it.”

  She didn’t have the chance to reply to his statement. He turned sharply at the large dining room where Jett was holding court like a king. Cozen had come to learn the man only really preferred a few rooms in the downstairs portion of his wing when he had to entertain people.

  His dining room with a too-large chandelier and all its gold accents was definitely a favorite spot for Jett.

  Cozen stood on display in the entryway to the dining room with Dash, but quite quickly, the young man—although frankly, he was the same age as her—stepped off to the side when his father came forward. Jett set his glass of what looked to be whiskey aside as he came closer with his arms already outstretched and opened to take Cozen into his embrace.

  She heard the whispers murmuring amongst the guests. She certainly wasn’t blind, either. She could see how they watched her, and the half-sneers they made as Jett finally came close enough to pull her into his arms.

  One of Jett’s arms wrapped tightly around Cozen’s waist as he pulled her into his side, and turned them to face the room.

  “Now we can party—my beautiful Cozen has arrived.”

  Cozen gave Jett a look, and asked quietly, “Did you purposely make me late tonight?”

  Jett winked. “I might have. A woman who looks like you do should always be appreciated by anyone who can see you, Cozen. And I wanted everyone to see just how beautiful you are.”

  His hand came up fast, and before she knew what was happening, his thumb stroked across her lax lips. A gentle touch, sure, but absolutely indicative of his wants when it came to her. His gaze darkened as he looked her over, and stroked her mouth once more.

  Without warning, Jett kissed Cozen. A hard kiss that forced her to gasp a bit—the opening of her parting lips giving him the idea, and the chance, to deepen the kiss.

  Every part of her wanted to revolt.

  Fight or flight kicked in.

  And yet, Cozen forced herself to relax. To take the kiss, though it made her skin crawl, and her blood run cold. Thankfully, it didn’t last long as someone hollered something disgusting from the other side of the room, and Jett pulled away.

  His grin was still firmly in place.

  So pleased with himself.

  Soon, Cozen would be the one pleased. She made sure to keep a tight hold on her clutch as she moved across the room at the urging of Jett’s hand at her lower back.

  “Don’t go too far from my side,” he murmured in her ear. “I intend to show as much of you off as I can tonight.”

  Cozen flashed him a brilliant smile. “I won’t leave your side.”

  For now.

  Jett raised a single brow high, and his smile turned suggestive in a blink. A lot like his tone when he said, “And then later, I intend for you to show me everything about you that I haven’t already seen, Cozen.”

  Well, then …

  Cozen simpered him with another smile. “I look forward to it.”

  Jett was on his third drink, and his fourth trip around the mansion to do the rounds again with Cozen. The man couldn’t help himself, it seemed. He had to show his beautiful thing off to the rest of the worthy people.

  To her credit, Cozen was doing well … if keeping a fake smile plastered on for every rich fuck to either gawk at her, whisper about her, and for some, to actually touch her. Her mask never faltered. It never failed.

  Sargon might almost be proud of that achievement of hers, if he wasn’t so goddamn irritated about it. This whole night was irritating for him—all because it was the night. The end of line for Cozen when it came to Jett.

  Tonight was the night Jett expected her to pay up, so to speak. The man wanted what he wanted from her. He wanted her—all of her that she had to give. And he was not going to accept any kind of excuse if she wasn’t willing and ready to hand it over to him.

  Jett was tired of the chase. That much was clear. Cozen would be expected to be the mouse too tired to run, now.

  Just the thought … Jesus.

  Just the thought of someone touching Cozen, of them seeing her body, or having her like he did was a little too fucking much for him. It was enough to make Sargon want to burn the entire city of New York down just so that another man couldn’t ever look at Cozen the way he did, or enjoy her the way he had been allowed to.

  The idea of her being with Jett beyond what Sargon had already witnessed was enough to make his fucking blood boil. He could barely think the word sex without his rage spiraling into a dark place.

  Was this what she wanted? Was whatever she was after worth the price of her body?

  Sargon didn’t know anything.

  Not anymore.

  “Wait a second,” Sargon told the server as he passed.

  The guy turned with the silver tray in his hand, and Sargon grabbed a flute of champagne. Quickly tossing the alcohol back with one swallow, and ignoring the bubbles that made him hate champagne, he set the flute back on the tray.

  “Is that all, sir?” the server asked.

  Sargon weighed his options, and then shrugged before grabbing one more flute of alcohol. He could have just went to the wet bar, and had the man working there make him a far stronger drink. He really didn’t need Jett noticing him doing anything but what he was there to do, though.

  He settled on shitty champagne.

  Tossing the drink back, he swallowed it down, and set the empty flute to the tray once more. The server’s b
row lifted as he gave Sargon a look.

  “Now, I’m done,” Sargon grumbled.

  “All right,” the server replied, never batting a lash, “thank you, sir.”

  Quickly, the server turned on his heel, and headed out of the nearest doorway. Likely to go back toward the kitchen for a refill. Sargon emptied the man’s last two drinks on his tray, after all.

  It was almost comical, really.

  Sargon wondered how much these servers seen or heard in their jobs when it came to the rich fucks they catered to. How much nonsense and private scandals were they afforded a glimpse of during their short stays at parties, or otherwise?

  Like flies on the wall.

  Amusing.

  Sargon should have been working, in a way. His job tonight was solely to keep an eye on the guests, and make sure they didn’t wander beyond the bottom floor of the first wing. Jett didn’t like people hanging around upstairs, or drifting into places they had no business being. The man’s personal and public lives were kept entirely separated by nothing more than a staircase, and a ceiling.

  Jett’s business dealings, both legal and illegal, happened in the privacy of his sanctuaries. His office, private library, and bedroom. His space, not anyone else’s. He liked to keep the rest of the world out of that space.

  For obvious reasons, Sargon supposed.

  Sargon was working, to an extent. He followed Jett around as the man made his rounds over and over with Cozen. He kept an eye on the guests all the while, and it seemed like all of the people knew not to wander off too far from the party.

  None of them even tried.

  Sargon suspected the cameras up above helped. A reminder to all the guests that they were being watched, and should behave as such. While Jett kept working security cameras in the downstairs, there was nothing upstairs to capture anything.

  Another wise move.

  Who would want to hand over video proof of their illegal business dealings to officials should someone come looking?

  Jett was not a stupid man.

  Maybe that was one of the reasons why Sargon grew increasingly concerned over how attached—obsessed, really—Jett had become with Cozen. To play a game with a dangerous man was to make moves you hoped would not kill you.