Chapter 11
H assan exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze locked onto Sevyn, who now sat perched on the edge of his desk.
He knew she couldn’t stay in his lap any longer without feeling things she shouldn’t—things they both weren’t ready to acknowledge.
So she’d cleared a spot, distancing herself just enough to regain some composure.
But even high, even in silence, she was studying him.
Her curiosity was like a slow burn, and he could see it in the way she kept shifting, the way her lips parted slightly like she was holding back a question.
“What, mane?” he asked, his voice low, amused.
Her soft chuckle made something inside him tighten, something he wasn’t ready to name. She had this way of disarming him, and he hated it.
“If you don’t gamble, why did you start a casino?” she finally asked.
His chest tightened at the question. She was too damn perceptive. Before she could say anything else, before she could apologize or backpedal, he cut her off.
“My pops loved to gamble. The casino was basically his second home.” He exhaled another cloud of smoke, staring past her, like he was looking at something only he could see. “He died when I was young, so I guess this is my way of using his addiction for something positive.”
Sevyn’s eyes widened, her soft features shifting as she absorbed his words.
Hassan knew he’d said more than he meant to.
More than he ever intended to. But that was the problem with Sevyn—she pulled things out of him without even trying.
It was like she peeled him open, layer by layer, without him realizing it until it was too late.
A warm smile crossed her lips. “I’m sure if he was still here today, he’d be proud of you.”
Hassan’s jaw clenched.
Proud? That was the last thing he wanted from his father. The man’s addiction had cost him everything—his mother, his childhood, any chance of normalcy. This casino wasn’t about redemption, it was about turning destruction into profit. Flipping pain into power.
Sevyn must have caught the tension in his body because she shifted, smoothly changing the subject. She glanced at the blunt he held out to her and shook her head.
“I’m good,” she murmured, her red eyes giving away just how high she already was.
Hassan smirked, watching her settle back against the desk, crossing one leg over the other like she was about to hit him with something serious.
“So, how exactly am I getting paid for my services?” she asked, her tone all business now. “You don’t do appointments, your sessions seem to be happening outside the office, and we didn’t sign a contract like I do with all of my other clients. So how is this going to go?”
Hassan let his gaze drag over her, taking in the way she effortlessly commanded a room even when she was supposed to be off the clock. A woman about her business. He liked that shit.
“I’ll wire it. I’ll have my accountant handle that shit.” His voice was calm, certain.
She nodded, seemingly satisfied, before rolling her eyes. “And this is my last time smoking with you. This is very unethical. Everything about this is unethical.”
“I didn’t know this was a session. I thought you came to apologize, and this was your way of making up for it,” Hassan said, his voice low and teasing.
Sevyn chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s true, it’s not. And I did come for that. But I picked up pretty quick that weed and sex are your coping mechanisms. I’m sure you’re not thinking about fucking me… so the weed has to stop. I don’t mind you smoking while we talk, but I can’t indulge in it.”
Hassan took another slow pull from the blunt, his dark gaze fixed on her. “Who said I wasn’t thinking about fucking you?”
Sevyn choked on air, her composure slipping for a split second before she recovered. “I should go. I don’t think I’m the right fit to be your—” She moved to slide off the desk, but before she could, his hand gripped her thigh, holding her in place.
“Stay,” he commanded, his voice deep, calm, but firm.
Sevyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Once again, I’m not your worker, Hassan,” she shot back, her tone sharp.
That attitude. That sharpness. It did something to him, something he couldn’t name. Something dangerous.
His lips twitched, but his voice remained even. “Nobody is thinking about fucking you, Sevyn.”
“Good,” she countered, crossing her arms as if to solidify her point .
He smirked at her stubbornness, at the way she needed to have the last word. But then his smirk deepened into something darker. “The way you jumped out of my lap, you couldn’t handle this dick anyway.”
Sevyn rolled her eyes, but before she could stop herself, she fired back. “And that dick jumped the minute it touched me. Seems like the thought did cross your mind.”
For the first time, a real, genuine laugh escaped Hassan’s lips, deep and rich. And Sevyn? She couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking her head in amusement.
“What! Hassan Gaines actually laughed?” she teased, her grin wide.
His smirk dropped instantly, but there was a softness in his gaze that betrayed him. “Chill out.”
But even as he said it, he knew the truth—being around her felt different. It was dangerous, unsettling, but for once in his life, in Sevyn’s presence, he wasn’t just the ruthless, cold-blooded man people feared. He was just Hassan.
Whoever that man might be.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" Sevyn watched him as he took another slow drag from his blunt. He didn’t respond with words, just a slight nod, giving her permission.
"How is your grandmother doing?"
Hassan didn’t answer right away. The serenity in her voice, the softness of her concern—it made him shift in his chair.
No one outside of Roman and his blood cared this much about the shit he went through.
But here she was, a woman he barely knew, reading him like an open book, digging deeper than he was used to.
Technically, she was his therapist now, so it was her job.
But it was the way she asked, the genuine warmth in her tone, not clinical or forced, but real.
Hassan exhaled, watching the smoke swirl toward the ceiling before finally answering. "Not good."
Simple. Short. Final. And she knew not to push him. Sevyn just nodded, understanding in her eyes.
"Can I ask you a question now?" Hassan asked, his voice low, unreadable.
Sevyn chuckled softly. "Yeah."
He smirked, shaking his head. "Nah, I ain't even about to ask that shit. You gon’ blow up and shit again."
Sevyn smacked her lips, rolling her eyes. "No, I’m not, Hassan. Just ask me."
He studied her for a moment before leaning back in his chair. "Why was you with that green-ass nigga?"
Her breath hitched slightly, and Hassan caught it.
Her eyes flicke red with a storm of emotions before she composed herself.
"Umm... it started as convenience. My father introduced us, and he’s very fond of the type of man Braxton is, so I took a chance on it.
" She paused, as if measuring her words.
"Then, as time progressed, I actually fell in love. "
She kept it short, sweet. But the weight behind her words said enough.
"The one time I step outside my type, I get my heart broken." Her voice was quieter now, more to herself than to him.
Hassan’s jaw tightened slightly. He didn’t react, didn’t show an ounce of emotion, but something about hearing her say that— admitting her heart had been broken—hit him in a way he didn’t expect.
It didn’t make sense. He barely knew her. But still, the protective feeling was there. Heavy. Unshakable.
Hassan nodded, letting the conversation end where it was. Talking about Braxton wasn’t going to do anything but piss him off, and he wasn’t in the mood for that.
A knock at the office door shifted both of their attention.
His head of security, Bully, stepped inside.
“Sorry to interrupt, boss, but Roman is downstairs waiting for your next meeting.” His tone was neutral, but Hassan caught the code instantly.
Business. The kind of business that explained why Braxton had been snooping around in the first place.
Hassan nodded, dismissing him, and Bully stepped out.
Sevyn glanced at her watch, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. “It’s almost three in the morning—who the hell has a meeting this late?”
Hassan fought the smirk threatening to creep onto his face. “Yo ass is real nosy.”
She rolled her eyes, shifting her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll mind my business then.”
Hassan took the opportunity to admire her as she moved.
That orange dress hugged every curve perfectly, her body looking even better now than when she first walked in.
He wasn’t blind to beauty— he had women throwing themselves at him daily—but none of them carried the poise, the quiet fire, or the effortless sex appeal Sevyn did.
She was something different. And different was dangerous.
When she turned, she nearly bumped into his chest, her body freezing for a moment at how close they were.
Inches apart. Their eyes met, and Hassan caught the shift in her expression—she was reading him again.
But beneath the curiosity, beneath the guarded exterior she tried so hard to keep up, there was something else.
Something he felt too. She broke the moment first, looking away quick ly.
“I’ll walk you out,” Hassan said, his voice low, calm. Sevyn nodded, but her pulse was racing.
They walked down the stairs together, Sevyn’s heels clicking against the marble flooring as she descended.
Roman stood at the bottom, leaning against the railing, casually scrolling through his phone.
When he looked up and saw Sevyn walking with Hassan not too far behind, his brows shot up in surprise before a knowing smirk stretched across his lips.
“Well, well… wassup, Sevyn.” His voice was laced with amusement, his sharp eyes flickering between the two of them.