Page 39 of Cozen

She mentally patted herself on the back because fuck her, this was going to go downhill fast if she couldn’t get this shit under control.

“Jett didn’t say he was going to be sending you,” she said.

Sargon lifted one brow, and nodded. “Yes, well, he figured I would be the better choice to pick you up, and whatever else was needed.”

“Why?”

“He thinks I don’t scare you, and he’s very concerned about keeping you happy and pleasant while he … pursues you.”

Cozen cleared her throat.

Sargon just gave her a lot of information without realizing he had done so. Or shit, maybe he did realize it. Who knew?

“Oh.”

She offered nothing else. Sargon didn’t press for more, either.

Then, he held out a black velvet box. It was the size of his palm with two tiny hinges on the other side. She didn’t immediately reach out to take the box, instead letting Sargon decide what she was supposed to do with it.

“A gift,” he said.

“From Jett.”

She didn’t even pose it as a question.

Sargon tried to smile, but it just ended up looking like a half sneer. “Yes, from Jett. Open it.”

Cozen flipped the top open on the velvet box, and eyed the golden piece resting inside on crushed velvet. Two thin ropes of gold connected by dangling gold bars. It was a simple design, but still beautiful. A piece that could be layered, or worn by itself.

“He thought,” Sargon said, “that it would match the ring on your thumb.”

Instantly, Cozen withdrew her hands from the necklace in the box, and covered the ring on her thumb to hide it.

“He notices everything,” Sargon added, “and he found that you don’t take the ring off. He figured you might like something to accentuate the ring, and compliment it at the same time.”

Well …

Shit.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

That wasn’t a lie.

“Would you like me to help you put it on?” Sargon asked.

The last thing Cozen needed was this man’s hands on her body. Her stupid desire spoke up before the rational part of her brain could.

“Yes, I would,” she said.

Cozen got a nice show of Sargon’s fast reflexes as he yanked the jewelry out with one hand, snapped the lid closed on the box at the same time, and in a blink, had discarded the box to his back pocket. Never once did he take his eyes off her.

Stepping closer, he moved behind Cozen, and allowed the necklace to dangle over her throat. At the first graze of his fingertips along her skin, she sucked in a fast breath. Her best bet was to talk while he worked as to keep her libido in fucking check.

“Sargon—where does that come from?” she asked. “The name, I mean.”

“Persian, mostly, and my bloodline comes from Iran.”

“Huh. And how did you come to work for Jett?”