Chapter 10 #2
Hassan didn’t like that. Didn’t like the way her name sat in Braxton’s mouth. Didn’t like that Braxton thought he had a claim on her. Didn’t like that he even gave a fuck. Shaking off the frustration, he reached for his phone, scrolling to a familiar number.
Nova. The one woman who never came with complications. No emotions. No attachment. Just a quick escape. She answered on the second ring, her voice smooth, seductive. “Hey, baby. Was wondering when you were gonna call.”
"Come to my casino." Hassan's voice was clipped as the call connected, his tone leaving no room for questions. Before Nova could respond, he hung up.
Usually, he didn’t fuck in his office—too much business, too many distractions. But tonight, he had too much work to do to leave. And even after shutting Braxton down, his mind was still restless.
An hour later, Nova strolled in wearing her work uniform, her eyes already filled with anticipation.
Hassan wasted no time, stripping her out of her clothes and bending her over his desk.
The tension in his body melted away with every thrust, each sharp movement erasing the frustration Braxton had left behind.
They went at it—hard, raw, ruthless—round after round.
Nova moaned his name like a prayer, her lips wrapped around him, her hands gripping his thighs as she worked her tongue in slow, practiced strokes. But just as Hassan tipped his head back, letting the sensation consume him, the door creaked open.
His head snapped up, and the second he saw her, his entire body tensed.
Sevyn stood there, her face unreadable, her posture stiff. Her eyes flickered over the scene in front of her—Nova between his legs, her lips glistening, Hassan's grip tangled in her hair. But it wasn’t jealousy that flashed in her gaze. It wasn’t disgust.
It was something else entirely. The energy in the room shifted. Hassan didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just locked eyes with Sevyn, his breath steady, waiting—wondering—if she would turn and walk away.
She didn’t.
Instead, she stepped forward, closing the door behind her.
???
Sevyn sat in her office, trying to focus on her session with Xavier, but her patience was already stretched thin—and it was all because of him .
Hassan .
She couldn't stop thinking about the night she snapped at him for no reason, the way she let her own emotions overshadow the progress he was finally willing to make. He had started to open up, trusted her even if it was just a little, and she ruined it. A whole week had passed, but the regret still gnawed at her. She wanted to see him, to apologize, to fix it somehow, but she knew Hassan wasn’t the forgiving type.
And as if her mind wasn’t already cluttered enough, her parents had been blowing up her phone, their calls and texts piling up. She knew exactly why—they wanted updates on her clinic, casual small talk that would inevitably lead to Braxton.
She wasn’t ready to talk about her ex, wasn’t ready to relive the betrayal or explain why the man they once praised was now dead to her. And Braxton wasn’t making it any easier. The calls, the texts, the desperate attempts to reach her hadn't stopped. But this morning? This morning was different.
A delivery of flowers arrived at her apartment—expensive ones, carefully arranged, the kind Braxton knew she liked. At first, she was startled, wondering how he even knew where she lived, but then she remembered. The tracker on her car.
She wasted no time removing it before heading to work.
Sevyn was exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally. She needed a break from everything.
Except for Hassan.
She didn’t understand it, but he was the only thing she didn’t want space from.
Now, sitting in her final session of the day, she struggled to stay engaged. Xavier was still holding a grudge from last session when Hassan interrupted their session, and he wasn’t hiding it. He resisted every attempt to open up, his attitude making the already long day feel even longer.
Sevyn was over it. All she wanted was to go home, unwind, and quiet the thoughts swirling in her mind. But she already knew—the second she closed her eyes, Hassan would be the only thing she’d see.
Xavier sat across from her, his arms crossed, a permanent scowl on his face. "I don’t even know why I’m still coming here," he muttered, tapping his fingers against the armrest impatiently. "Ain't like this shit helping."
Sevyn let out a slow breath through her nose, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Today wasn’t the day. She had too much weighing on her mind—Hassan, her parents, Braxton’s audacity—and Xavier’s defiance was making her patience run even thinner.
She adjusted in her chair, keeping her posture poised even though exhaus tion dragged at her body. "You’re still here because you want to play next season," she said evenly, locking eyes with him. "And because if you don’t finish these sessions, that contract they just signed you to? Gone."
Xavier clenched his jaw, shaking his head before dragging a hand over his face. "Man, whatever."
Sevyn tilted her head, studying him. "You’re still angry about last session," she observed, her tone softer now.
Xavier scoffed. "Nah, I just don’t like being disrespected. That nigga Hassan really thought he was ‘bout to run my session?" His lips curled in annoyance. "Who even is he to you?"
Sevyn froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. She had been asking herself the same thing all week. Who is Hassan to me?
She had no answer—at least, not one she was willing to say out loud.
Instead, she straightened up in her seat, brushing past the question. "He’s not important to this session, Xavier. You are," she said firmly. "Now, if you’re done pouting, we can actually talk about why you keep letting your anger control your life."
Xavier studied her for a beat, then exhaled sharply. "Man... I ain't tryna be that nigga forever," he admitted lowly. "But I swear, I don’t know how to turn that switch off."
Sevyn leaned forward slightly, catching the way his body finally relaxed, even if just a little. "Then that’s where we start," she said. "Not by ignoring it. Not by fighting it. But by understanding why it’s there."
For the first time that day, she felt a small sense of accomplishment. Maybe she didn’t have control over everything happening in her own life right now, but at least here, in this office, she could help someone else get back on track.
"I'm not about to sit here and pour my heart out like some damn sob story," Xavier muttered, arms crossed over his chest, his frustration barely contained.
Sevyn leaned back in her chair, unfazed. "Good. I don’t do sob stories."
His eyes snapped to hers, caught off guard. He had expected soft words, sympathy—maybe even a look of pity. Instead, she was calm, unaffected, her expression unreadable. He sized her up, waiting for a crack in her composure, but she didn’t flinch.
Finally, he exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. "Shit gets to me too easy," he admitted, his jaw tightening.
Sevyn’s face remained stoic. "What kind of shit?" Her tone was calm, controlled, but she couldn’t ignore the exhaustion creeping into her bo nes. She was running on empty—mentally, emotionally—but she forced herself to stay professional, even as he lingered in the back of her mind. Hassan.
Xavier flexed his jaw, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. "Coach, media, teammates—they all got something to say. I drop one pass? Now I’m ‘unreliable.’ I react to some DB talking reckless? Now I’m ‘a problem in the locker room.’ I hate that shit."
Sevyn nodded, absorbing his words, jotting down notes, even though she already understood what was happening beneath the surface. "So when you feel disrespected or doubted, it triggers something."
His hard gaze snapped to hers, sharp, assessing. Testing. But Sevyn held her ground, unfazed by his intensity. She had been stared down by men far more dangerous than him. Men who carried a different kind of weight in their eyes.
Men like Hassan.
Her chest tightened, the thought of him slipping in uninvited. Get out of my head, she scolded herself, forcing her focus back to Xavier. "Triggers?" Xavier repeated, his voice laced with skepticism, like the word itself was an insult. But there was something else there too— curiosity.
"Yeah," Sevyn said, her voice smooth, unwavering. "What happens in your body when you get pissed? You tense up? Your breathing change?"
Xavier’s gaze flickered, the wall he’d built around himself starting to crack. She caught the shift in his expression—hesitation, recognition.
"My whole body locks up. Feels like I gotta move or I’m gonna snap." His voice was quieter now, like he was admitting something he wasn’t sure he should.
Sevyn nodded, scribbling notes, but she already knew. She had seen this before. "That’s your fight response kicking in. Your body sees disrespect as a threat, and the only way you know how to deal with it is to react."
Xavier’s jaw clenched again. She could see the battle happening behind his eyes. He wanted to argue. Wanted to deny it.
“…That a bad thing?" His voice held the slightest edge of uncertainty now.
"Not if you control it," Sevyn said simply. "But right now? It’s controlling you."
He flexed his fingers, tension rippling through him. He didn’t like the thought of anything having control over him—she could see it plain as day.
Just like Hassan. The realization hit her, uninvited.
The simila rities were glaring—the way both men carried themselves, the way they bristled at the idea of not having control.
She swallowed, shaking the thought away.
Focus, Sevyn. Comparing clients was unethical, unprofessional.
But the truth settled in her chest like a weight.
Hassan had been in her head all day. And he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.