Page 84 of Cozen

As quickly as this meeting between Jett, Cozen, and the three-piece had started, they moved on to someone else. Another faceless suit to greet, and smile for. Someone else to admire a beauty they would never fully appreciate or understand.

Their dinner had been done over an hour ago, and then this whole charade started. Sargon wondered how long it was going to last because he was already growing tired of it.

This was exactly why he never lasted long in any one job. His patience was thin, and his heart was far too restless to stay put in one place for long.

Of course, this job was different.

Cozen was the biggest difference. Her presence was more than enough to put Sargon on an entirely different foot when it came to the job. If he were smart, he would consider backing off, and telling Jett he no longer wanted to work for the man. Take his feelings out of the equation entirely, and stop putting himself—and Cozen, likely—in danger with this game they were playing.

Apparently, Sargon was not a smart man because he didn’t entertain the idea for long. Just long enough to get that heavy, burning sensation back in his gut that told him there was no fucking way he would let that woman out of his sights for very long. Certainly not long enough that he might lose her for good.

Sargon’s gaze drifted to Cozen and Jett again.

Ah …

Another three-piece, but this time, the faceless rich fuck had a too-young, very plastic wife on his arm. Fake all over from the extensions in her hair, to the slightly orange tan on her skin. That was before Sargon got to the tits, nails, and oddly proportioned hips.

Christ.

Sargon knew what Jett was doing.

He knew.

He could see it without needing confirmation.

This was a test for Cozen, in a way. Jett was testing her tonight. Seeing how she did as he moved her from table to table, and new person to new person. He was checking to see if she was malleable enough to fit in with these kinds of people. Could she blend in with their high-rolling society, and never look out of place?

Sargon had news for the man.

Cozen was far too unique to blend in.

She was always going to stand out.

Always outshine.

Goddamn.

Sargon really needed a drink at the moment. He pushed out of the shadows, and headed directly for the bar knowing that alcohol was the only thing that might make this night slightly more fucking bearable.

He didn’t care that he was supposed to be keeping out of sight—from Cozen, and anyone else who Jett mingled with for the evening.

Soon, a bartender was pushing three shots of top-shelf whiskey across the bar. Sargon threw the first shot back, and relished in the harsh burn it provided as he swallowed it down. The second shot went down just as fucking easily.

There was something about whiskey …

It made all things better.

He grabbed the last shot, but hesitated to take it.

Sargon looked for his boss and Cozen again. He found them moving away from another couple, and closer to the dance floor. If you could call the small patch of hardwood floor in the middle of the place a dance floor.

People were dancing there. Jett and Cozen soon joined them.

Sargon’s gaze was only on Cozen, though. On the way that dress of hers fell over her curves, and the deep plunges teasing him far too much. Not to mention, the slit in the leg that kept giving him peeks of heaven. A heaven he knew, and Jett did not.

The two of them moved quickly across the dance floor in a fast waltz, and on a turn, Cozen happened to finally lay eyes on Sargon for the first time that night. She had not seen him since he said goodbye to her at the hotel.

Oh, he had been watching her.