Chapter 5 #5
Hassan reached toward her, and she flinched slightly, her body tensing, her mind racing. What was he about to do? She really didn’t want to die at twenty-five. She had plans. She had goals. She had shit to do.
But his touch wasn’t rough. It wasn’t threatening. His fingers grazed her chin, tilting it up so her eyes met his. And what she saw stopped her breath entirely. His usual coldness was still there, but underneath it was something else.
Softness. A quiet, unexpected warmth.
"Don’t be afraid of me, Sevyn." His voice was low, but it was a command wrapped in silk—soft, firm, impossible to ignore.
Her body betrayed her instantly, her muscles relaxing, her breath steadying like he had complete control over her nervous system.
Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip, nervous but unable to look away, and his eyes flickered down, catching the movement before his lips curled into a slight smirk.
Then, just as easily as he had touched her, he stepped back, releasing her. But now that he was gone, she craved his touch again. She wouldn’t let it show. Wouldn’t let him know. So she kept her posture calm, her expression poised, even though her body was still burning where his fingers had been.
"I don’t know what you and my cousin tried to do, but that shit didn’t work. I don’t fuck with niggas that think they can try to outplay me or blindside me." Hassan’s tone was cold, cutting, but Sevyn didn’t break. She met his gaze head-on, unfazed by the weight of his presence.
"Hassan, Harper… and your grandmother—"
His expression shifted instantly, his mug deepening.
"What the hell you know about my granny?" His voice was defensive, laced with curiosity he couldn’t mask.
"Me and your cousin are close, damn near best friends. I know about your grandmother." Sevyn kept her tone even, watching as his body tensed. He didn’t like how much she knew about his family, about him.
"What about them, bruh?" he asked, his frustration evident, but he still wanted to hear what she had to say.
"They’re just worried about you. I know they think you’re broken, but I know for a fact you’re not." She said it with conviction, with the same certainty she had told him before.
His body stiffened again. "How the fuck do you know that?" His voice carried a deeper edge now, like he was waiting for her to slip up, waiting for a reason to dismiss everything she was saying.
Sevyn took a slow step closer.
She saw the flicker of awareness in his eyes, saw the way he took her in—like he was memorizing every detail of her. He was good at hiding his emotions from everyone else, but Sevyn could see him. Could feel the battle raging inside him, the things he was fighting to suppress.
"Let me show you." Her voice softened, but she saw his jaw tighten, his discomfort showing not just in frustration, but because she was getting through to him. And that? That made him uneasy.
She backed away, moving to her desk and grabbing shiny emerald business card. "This has my number, email, and office hours. Every visit requires an appointment—I get too many clients daily to be accepting walk-ins. Micah can take care of you, if you’re looking to schedule an session."
Hassan chuckled, the sound low and humorless, making her narrow her eyes.
"What?" she asked, feigning defense, even though she knew that laugh meant something dangerous.
His smirk faded just as quickly as it came, and when he spoke, his voice was pure seriousness.
"You really trying to be professional, when I have that pussy leaking right now."
Sevyn’s breath hitched. She didn’t react. She didn’t flinch. But she couldn’t deny the truth in his words.
Because he wasn’t lying .
Her panties were soaked, her body had reacted to him in ways it never had for any man, not even Braxton.
She hated that he knew. Hated that he could read her just as easily as she had read him. She forced herself to keep her composure, pushing down the heat spreading through her, keeping the professionalism in place like a shield.
"My next session is in five minutes," she said, glancing down at her Rolex, ignoring the way her pulse pounded in her ears.
Hassan shook his head slightly, smirking again because he saw exactly what she was doing—pretending like he didn’t just unravel her entire body without even touching her.
"So if that’s all, Hassan, then you can leave the same way you came.
Make an appointment next time." Her tone was final, unwavering.
"What? Why are you still here staring at me like that?
" Sevyn asked, arching a brow as she noticed he hadn’t moved a muscle.
His body remained still, but his eyes? They were locked on her, his admiration undeniable, even though his face remained unreadable.
"I leave when the fuck I want to. And just enjoying the view if that shit okay with you." His voice was cold, cutting, but the meaning behind his words wasn’t lost on her.
Sevyn’s lips twitched, a blush creeping up her cheeks as an unwanted soft chuckle slipped past her lips. This man... She hated that he had this effect on her.
Hassan held her gaze for a second longer before finally turning and walking out.
The moment the door clicked shut, Sevyn exhaled, leaning back into her chair, but the effects of Hassan lingered all throughout her office—hell, all over her body.
His scent still hung in the air, that rich, masculine cologne that smelled like power and temptation.
Her stomach fluttered with a rush of butterflies, but it was the wetness between her thighs that really pissed her off.
She felt wrecked, her body betraying her, her mind stuck replaying every moment of their interaction.
The sharp ring of her office phone jolted her back to reality, making her jump.
She pressed the speaker button, clearing her throat.
"Ms. Love, your 12 o’clock is here," Micah’s voice rang through the speaker.
Sevyn rolled her eyes, mentally cursing the timing. "Okay, I'll be out in a few."
She pushed up from her chair, walking toward the private bathroom inside her office. Locking the door behind her, she quickly slid off her soaked lace panties, irritation flaring at just how soaked they were .
Damn him.
She tossed them to the side, staring at herself in the mirror.
How the hell was she supposed to get through the rest of the day when Hassan Gaines had already taken over every inch of her mind and body?
But she had to.
She smoothed her hands down her nude dress, the fabric hugging her curves perfectly, reminding herself who the fuck she was. A powerhouse. A professional. A woman focused on her career and nothing else.
After what Braxton did, she wasn’t in the space to entertain love or anything close to it.
So she pulled her walls back up, fixed her expression into the poised, professional mask she always wore, and walked out of her office to greet her next client.
And for the rest of the day, she stayed focused, unshaken, untouched—refusing to let Hassan Gaines get into her mind again.