Chapter 5 #4
Micah hesitated before nodding, quickly leaving and shutting the door behind her.
Sevyn’s focus returned to Hassan, but his never left Xavier. His posture was relaxed, but his entire presence screamed dominance, like he had already made it clear that he was in control of the room.
Xavier, never one to back down, sat back in his chair, but his muscles were tense, his jaw tight, his own energy daring Hassan to say something out of line.
Sevyn’s stomach twisted in real fear now. Xavier had no idea who he was dealing with.
Before things could escalate, she chose to be the first to break the tension.
"Umm... I am in the middle of a session, and you can’t just barge in here," Sevyn said, her tone sharp. "If you want to make an—"
She didn’t even get to finish. "Your session is over."
Hassan’s voice was calm, controlled, but cold.
He didn’t acknowledge Sevyn once. Didn’t look at her. His entire focus remained on Xavier, his body language making one thing clear— he wanted him gone.
Sevyn mugged him hard, looking at him like he had lost his damn mind.
Xavier stood, his jaw clenching as he stepped closer, challenging Hassan, both men standing face to face, the energy in the room shifting into something dangerous.
Sevyn’s sharpness quickly turned into fear—not for herself, but for Xavier.
She saw the anger rising in him, the way his muscles tensed like he was ready to swing.
But what terrified her more was the way Hassan’s eyes darkened, how his entire presence seemed to still, as if he was already calculating how this would end.
"Nigga, I don’t know if you blind or slow, but clearly we was in the middle of something," Xavier spat, standing eye to eye with Hassan.
Sevyn’s stomach dropped. She saw it .
That slight smirk tugging at the corner of Hassan’s lips. That cold, detached amusement—the look of a man who had already decided this wasn’t going to end well. Either Xavier wasn’t from the city, or he was just dumb as hell to step to Hassan Gaines like this.
Sevyn reacted fast, her hand instinctively pressing against Hassan’s chest, the warmth of his skin searing through his shirt.
And the second she touched him, she felt it.
His entire body relaxed. Like the contact alone calmed something inside him.
Her breath hitched, and her eyes shot up to his, searching for any sign that she was imagining things.
But she wasn’t. Because his jaw tightened, frustration flashing across his features as if he hated that her touch had any effect on him at all.
But he didn’t move her hand. He felt it too.
She had cracked something—just for a second—but it was there.
"Woah, chill," Sevyn said quickly, her voice lower now, smooth, soothing as she kept her hand firmly against Hassan’s chest, desperate to keep this from escalating. "Xavier, I apologize, but we’re going to have to reschedule your session. I’m sorry for the unprofessionalism and the inconvenience, I—"
"What, this your nigga or something?" Xavier snapped, his tone laced with jealousy, his eyes still burning into Hassan’s like he wanted a fight.
Sevyn mugged him, her patience running thin, but the way Hassan’s body tensed under her palm made her pulse spike.
She had to get Xavier the fuck out of here. Now. Because Hassan still hadn’t said a single word. And that scared her even more.
"No, he's not. Look, Xavier, just leave. Please." Sevyn's voice cracked slightly, her tone dipping into something close to desperation. She wasn’t trying to beg, but fuck, she needed Xavier to walk away right now.
Xavier heard it—the crack in her voice, the urgency—and he saw the fear in her eyes. He looked back at Hassan, mistaking that fear for him, thinking Sevyn was scared for herself, oblivious to the fact that she wasn’t afraid of Hassan at all.
Her fear was for him. Because Hassan was seconds away from making Xavier his next victim.
Xavier clenched his jaw before snatching his keys off the couch. He took one last look at Sevyn, then back at Hassan, who hadn’t moved a muscle—except to take a single step forward.
Slow. Deliberate. A movement laced with danger.
Sevyn moved on instinct, stepping in front of Hassan, using her body as a physical barrier, her back pressing against his chest. She barely registered the slight brush of her ass against him—until she felt him.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She was too close. Close enough to feel the slow shift of his body, the hardness growing against the fabric of his jeans, pressing right into the curve of her ass.
Her muscles tensed, her body locked in place as heat flushed through her. The material of her dress, snug against her curves but still professional, suddenly felt too thin.
She swallowed, her hands clenching at her sides, fighting to ignore the way he felt against her, fighting to focus as Xavier finally walked out, not saying another word.
Only when the door clicked shut did she feel the tension in the air shift.
Hassan hadn’t moved.
Sevyn turned around slowly, her expression sharp, her patience gone. The look on her face made it clear exactly how annoyed she was.
But Hassan?
His face was unreadable, his eyes cold, his entire expression stoic. Like he hadn’t just pressed up against her. Like he hadn’t just let his dick get hard right there in the middle of her office. Like none of this shit affected him at all.
"You can't just come in here, barge into my office, and interrupt my session like that. Make an appointment with Micah if you're looking to talk." Sevyn’s voice was sharp as she walked back to her desk, grabbing her clipboard like she was actually going to get back to work.
Hassan still hadn’t said a word. His silence only made her irritation grow.
She looked up again, mugging him hard. "So you interrupted my session just to stand there and look at me?"
Hassan didn’t move, didn’t blink, just watched her, his gaze unreadable, but intense. He was looking at her like he was reading her, like he was admiring her—but not in the way most men did. This wasn’t lust. This wasn’t desire. This was something else entirely.
And that made her feel exposed. Vulnerable. Then, finally, he spoke.
"What do you see?"
His tone wasn’t hard or cold like before—it was soft, laced with something that made her body still.
She had felt his energy when he walked in, knew he had come with questions, with curiosity, with some type of need for answers. But now, she heard it too .
"What are you talking about, Hassan?" she asked, keeping her tone distant even as her stomach tightened.
His jaw flexed.
"Sevyn, stop fucking playing with me, mane."
His voice was deeper, controlled, but there was something else in it—something that made heat shoot straight between her legs.
She clenched her thighs, trying to shake the feeling, but her body had already betrayed her. Her panties were soaked now, and it was all because of his fucking voice.
She hated that. Hated how his presence alone had her reacting in ways she didn’t want to admit.
"Hassan, you're gonna have to tell me more than that." She rolled her eyes, keeping her voice calm, but there was a thickness in the air now, something she couldn’t ignore.
She watched as he rubbed a hand down his beard, his frustration evident. This wasn’t normal for him. She knew it. He didn’t do this. He didn’t come to places like this. Didn’t talk about feelings. Didn’t even acknowledge they existed. He was fighting everything in him right now.
And yet—he was still here.
"About the shit you said yesterday." His voice was lower now, rougher.
And Sevyn knew. She knew exactly what he was talking about, now. But she wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
"What do you see when you look at me?" Hassan asked again, his voice lower, his patience running thin.
Sevyn stood up, walking around her desk, leaning against it just like the last time he was in her office. She folded her arms, pushing her black clear-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose before meeting his stare again.
"A man who is tired. Angry. Maybe even a little resentful." Her voice was soft, steady, but she didn’t look away. She studied his eyes, but they remained stoic, void of any emotion.
But she felt it.
She didn’t have to see it—his energy spoke louder than words.
Her empathic gift always worked easily with him, igniting effortlessly, like he was an open wound she couldn’t ignore. She didn’t know if it was just her gift or something else, something unspoken between them, but it scared her how much she could feel the things he never said aloud.
"A man who is exhausted. Sad. Maybe even a little softer than the cold man he displays."
Before she could continue, his voice cut through the air. "Stop. "
His tone was calm, but cold.
She could feel the frustration radiating off of him, the way his body tightened at her words.
"You don’t know me." His voice was sharp, controlled anger laced beneath his words.
"You’re right, I don’t." Sevyn met his gaze, unshaken. "But Hassan, you're standing in my office right now for a reason."
His eyes never wavered. He stood still, his expression unreadable, but she knew she had struck something in him.
"Losing everything hurts, doesn’t it?"
The second the words left her mouth, his entire energy shifted. His blue eyes darkened, turning ice cold. Sevyn felt the temperature drop, felt the shiver crawl up her spine, her body tensing instinctively.
She had tugged at something too deep.
Hassan moved so fast she barely had time to process it.
One second, he was standing still. The next, he was in front of her, too close, his towering height making her feel small beneath him.
Her breath hitched.
"I’m sorry if I overstepped," she whispered quickly, her voice controlled, but her pulse betraying her. She didn’t move, didn’t back away. She wouldn’t run.