Chapter 5
H assan gripped the steering wheel so tight the leather creaked under his fingers.
His foot slammed against the gas, the city lights blurring past him, but none of it registered.
It wasn’t business on his mind. It wasn’t the bodies he had dropped.
It wasn’t even the ruthless lifestyle that usually consumed him.
It was her.
Sevyn.
When Harper asked—no, begged —him to deliver a package to her office, he had hesitated.
Not because he was busy. He would drop anything for his cousin.
But because he knew exactly who he was going to see—the woman who had captivated him at the club that night.
Even days later, after damn near killing a man in front of her, she was still stuck in his mind. And he didn’t know why.
Women were never distractions. They were nothing more than a temporary release—used, then forgotten. Yet she lingered. Her face. Her voice. The way she looked at him, like she didn’t see the feared, ruthless, cold-blooded man the rest of the world did. Like she saw past it.
And then those words— "You’re not broken."
She had said it with conviction, like she knew.
Like she could see something in him that even he couldn’t recognize.
The people closest to him—Harper, Madea, even himself—saw him as damaged, beyond saving.
But this woman, who didn’t know a damn thing about him, didn’t.
And that fact alone made something shift inside of him— something he didn’t like.
For a split second, he almost turned the car around, almost went back to her office, just to demand what the fuck she meant.
But his pride wouldn’t let him. No woman—no one—had ever gotten past his walls.
Not in the slightest. But Sevyn had. And that made him want to stay away, but also stay close. A dangerous contradiction.
His gut told him something was off. Harper randomly asking him to deliver a package to this woman, then Sevyn trying to read him like she understood something about him that he didn’t?
The longer he thought about it, the more his jaw tightened, anger simmering benea th the surface. Was this shit a setup?
He shook off the thought as Moneybagg Yo blared through his speakers, the bass rattling through his chest. But even as the music filled the car, drowning out his thoughts— she was still there. Lurking. Stuck in his mind like a song he couldn’t turn off.
He pulled out his phone, calling Harper, but the line rang out with no answer.
Letting out a low groan, he tossed the phone into the cupholder and rubbed a hand through his beard, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.
He needed something to take his mind off Sevyn and the way their encounter had left him unsettled, so he drove toward Roman’s dealership.
Pulling into the lot, he parked and walked inside, instantly greeted with nods of respect from security and employees.
He acknowledged them with a tilt of his chin but kept moving.
Before he could reach Roman’s office, he heard heels clicking against the showroom floor, followed by a familiar voice.
"Hey, Ice."
Nova.
She approached with a seductive smirk, her eyes gleaming with the same hunger they always held when she looked at him. Hassan gave her a curt nod, his expression unreadable, as always.
Hassan and Nova had a connection—well, kind of.
She was one of the women he called when he needed an escape.
They had been fucking around since Roman hired her, but it was never anything beyond that.
Nova knew the deal—no feelings, no attachment.
Just pleasure. And she was fine with that.
She was his go-to because she didn’t expect anything, and she was perfect in bed.
"Roman here?" Hassan asked, his voice flat.
Nova’s smirk didn’t waver as she nodded, motioning behind her. "Yeah, he’s in his office." But she didn’t move. Her gaze stayed locked on him, the same playful, seductive energy rolling off her like always.
Hassan was used to it—the way women looked at him, the way they threw themselves at him. None of it fazed him.
"You look stressed, baby," Nova purred, stepping closer, her fingers trailing over his chest. "You need a relief?"
Hassan grabbed her hand, removing it from him with ease. But he didn’t deny what she was offering.
"What time’s your lunch?" he asked, already knowing Roman didn’t allow his employees to slip off for pleasure during work hours.
"Umm… one," she answered, glancing down at her watch. "I’ll see you at one, then. You know where to go."
He walked off without waiting for a response, already knowing he’d have her waiting when the time came. He didn’t miss the way her smile widened or how her eyes followed his every move as he left .
She was right about one thing, though. He was stressed. But it wasn’t business.
It was Sevyn.
And even though his face betrayed nothing, even though he knew Nova was just saying whatever she had to in order to get him again—
It worked.
Hassan walked up the glass stairs leading to Roman’s large, secluded office in the corner of the dealership.
He knocked once before Roman’s voice called him in.
As he stepped inside, the first thing he saw was Roman zipping up his pants while a woman—still dressed in her professional work attire—wiped her face.
Hassan didn’t react. Didn’t speak. He was used to this shit.
The girl smiled at him, but he didn’t move a muscle, didn’t acknowledge her existence. She took the hint and slipped out of the office, shutting the door behind her.
Hassan took a seat, still silent, as Roman grabbed the bottle of hand sanitizer on his desk and rubbed his hands together like nothing just happened.
"Who the fuck I gotta kill or dispose of—if you didn’t already?" Roman asked, getting straight to the point.
Hassan looked at him, but his mind wasn’t in that office. It was back in that therapy clinic. Back on her. Back on the way that black Dior pantsuit hugged her body perfectly.
"Nobody, bruh." Hassan’s voice was calm, unreadable.
Roman nodded, accepting the answer, even though he could still tell something was off. Something was occupying Hassan’s mind, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, Roman wasn’t about to press.
"What do I owe this visit for then? Yo ass only comes up here to kidnap Nova." Roman smirked, leaning back in his chair as Hassan let out a low chuckle.
"Nigga, did you forget? You the one who called me."
Roman blinked, then snapped his fingers. "Oh shit, you right. A real nigga birthday coming up."
Hassan nodded, already knowing where this was going. Roman’s birthday was in two weeks, and like every year, he always did something big.
"I’m thinking about doing some fancy shit this year, and I need your casino."
Hassan nodded again. He hated small talk. Roman knew this. "Nigga, get to the point. What you need?"
"I wanna do some masquerade shit. People dress fancy in that bitch and everything."
Hassan typed away on his phone, already making arrangements .
"Aight. You got it."
"Say less." Roman grinned, already anticipating the turn-up.
Hassan locked his phone and leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly. He was handling business like he always did.
So why the fuck was she still in his head?
Roman noticed the tension in Hassan’s body language, even though he was trying to mask it. He had known Hassan too long to be fooled.
"Nigga, you sure you straight?" Roman asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
Hassan looked up, his expression as unreadable as ever. "Yeah, nigga. I’m about to head to this meeting, then slide on Nova later."
Roman chuckled at the last part, shaking his head.
He already knew what that meant. Hassan wasn’t the type to talk through his problems—he handled them, and when shit was weighing on him, he usually took it out in two ways: violence or sex.
Tonight, it looked like Nova was about to be the one catching it.
As Hassan moved toward the door, Roman stopped him.
"I don’t give a fuck who all coming, but make sure Harper bring them junts from the club… especially the short one."
He threw in a wink for good measure as Hassan nodded, even though irritation flared inside him. His mind had finally managed to push Sevyn to the back of his thoughts, and here go Roman, pulling her right back to the front.
Hassan didn’t say a word as he left, moving through the dealership with the same quiet authority he always carried. As he stepped onto the main floor, Nova walked by him, her body brushing against his just enough for her hand to slide across his chest.
"I’ll see you later," she whispered, her voice low, seductive, confident.
Hassan didn’t stop, didn’t look back, just walked out without breaking stride.
He didn’t care about her. Not emotionally. Never had.
But he hoped using her would help get Sevyn out of his damn mind.
???
Night had come faster than expected, and despite handling business and spending hours tangled up with Nova, Sevyn was still in his fucking head.
It pissed him off. No woman had ever occupied his mind like this, and the fact that she did—without even trying—fueled his frustration.
He needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to him .
Hassan banged on Harper’s front door, his patience already running thin.
His gut had been screaming at him all day, telling him something wasn’t right about the way Harper had set him up to walk into Sevyn’s office.
His grandmother and Harper had always been on his ass about therapy, always pushing him to heal from the demons he carried, but if Harper had really blindsided him, used Sevyn to try to manipulate him into counseling, he didn’t know if he could forgive her for that shit.
He banged harder, his jaw clenching, his chest tight.