Page 65 of Cozen

This time, Cozen’s legs worked without needing her permission. She moved around The Kingdom’s bar, and took the open bar stool next to Sargon. When she was this close to the man, it was much harder to ignore the way his muscles flexed under his red silk shirt, or the fact he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week or more.

Not to mention, the cologne he wore.

That in itself was a goddamn drug.

His gaze darted over to hers, and the edges of his lips curved upward sinfully. “You look tired, Cozen. Busy day?”

“Something like that.”

Sargon hummed a noncommittal sound, and gazed at the bottles behind the bar. “Seems that’s all this city does is give us days longer than we can handle.”

“You don’t like your days?” she asked.

“There’s always something I like about them. I find the silver linings. Getting to keep an eye on beautiful things and keep them out of harm’s way is certainly a good part.”

He gave her a pointed look.

She heard his unspoken words.

He meant her. He had been looking after her.

“Jett sent a gift?” Cozen asked.

She greatly wanted to get off the topic they were currently on, and onto something else entirely. It wasn’t Sargon’s fault, really.

Not at all.

Cozen simply didn’t trust herself around this man. When he murmured, her skin heated. When he looked at her, her heart picked up speed. When he was still and silent, she wanted to know what was running through that beautiful head of his.

She had a feeling that if he offered to take her out back to the dirty, damp alley behind the restaurant and fuck her, she would be all too happy to skip along with him to do the deed. Because he demanded, and she apparently couldn’t tell him no.

She would probably get on her knees for him, too.

Dirt be damned.

Wasn’t it bad enough that she had spent the last couple of weeks practically obsessing over this man?

Cozen couldn’t afford the risks associated with being involved with Sargon Makri. Not at the moment, anyway. He was too close to Jett, and she was not willing to put the chance of a successful heist on the line just to get this man between her thighs again.

Oh, God.

Or was she willing to do exactly that?

Yeah.

Bad all over.

“He did send a gift,” Sargon said.

Wordlessly, he pushed a finger against the edge of the black velvet box, and moved it in front of Cozen on the bar. It was maybe the size of his palm, or a little bigger. Two golden hinges on one side, and a golden clasp on the other.

“He thought you might like something to remind you of him,” Sargon said quietly. “He worried that his lack of presence might have been concerning for you.”

“It was,” she admitted.

Sargon’s gaze narrowed for a brief second, and something flashed across his handsome features. Something dark and hot—like jealousy.

“Open it,” he said, his expression reverting back to a cool, cold nothingness.