Chapter 13 #2
"The shit you do creeps me the fuck out.
" He admitted, eyes locked on hers, voice cold.
"But it helps. You worth more than that little hundred-an-hour shit you be charging.
I gave you what you deserve." Sevyn’s lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile.
His tone was sharp, detached—like everything else about him—but his words?
They were warm.
Then his eyes darkened slightly.
"And, I'm not trying to control you. You’ll know when you’re being controlled."
His grip on her waist lingered for a beat longer before he finally let go.
Sevyn swallowed, pulse hammering. She didn’t know whether to be offended or turned on, but she was feeling one a little stronger than the other.
Clearing her throat, she stepped back. "I should be leaving." Her voice was softer than she intended, her own reaction catching her off guard.
"I’m taking you—"
"You don’t have—"
She stopped mid-sentence when she caught the way he looked at her. That sharp, unwavering gaze that always made her feel like he had complete control—whether she wanted to admit it or not.
And just like that, she submitted again.
He didn’t smirk. Didn’t gloat. He just turned, moving past her like he already knew she was going to listen. Like the conversation was alrea dy over.
Sevyn exhaled, annoyed at herself more than anything, as she watched him disappear down the hall to change and grab his keys.
She hated how easy it was to fall into his rhythm. But what scared her more?
She liked it.
Sevyn was responding to a message from Harper and Dorian when the sharp, clean scent of cologne hit her nose—rich, warm, and undeniably masculine. She looked up, and for a moment, she forgot what she was even doing.
Hassan stood in front of her, dressed differently from the laid- back look he had on earlier.
The white fitted shirt clung to his muscles, defining every carved line of his torso.
His Louis Vuitton jean shorts rested just right on his waist, showing off his ink-covered legs, mid- white socks, and a pair of Chicago Jordan 1s completing the effortless, lethal drip.
The diamond jewelry he always wore caught the morning light, and the red fitted hat pulled it all together with the type of ease that wasn’t intentional—it was just him.
Sevyn’s mouth went dry, and for a second, she realized she was staring. Not just staring—lingering.
She blinked, shaking herself out of it before standing up, grabbing her purse. Hassan said nothing, just nodded toward the door, and they walked out in silence, the weight of everything that happened between them still hanging in the air.
The drive to her place was quiet—too quiet.
The only words exchanged were her giving him directions, his hands gripping the wheel, his focus locked on the road.
The low hum of the engine filled the space between them, but even with no words, she felt his presence.
The way his fingers flexed slightly on the wheel.
The occasional glance he stole when he thought she wasn’t looking.
After what felt like both an eternity and not enough time, they pulled up to her building. Hassan studied it, nodding slightly in approval.
Sevyn turned to him. "Thanks." A single nod. That was it.
She stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement, but she could feel his eyes following her. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. The weight of his gaze stayed on her back, branding itself into her skin.
Only when she disappeared inside did he finally pull off, the sound of his Ferrari’s engine roaring down the street.
Sevyn exhaled, pressing the elevator button, feeling the breath she’d been holding release in a slow sigh. She was already running late for her workout with Harper and Dorian, but her mind was still back in that car.
Still stuck on him.
She shook her head, stepping inside the elevator, knowing one thing for certain—Hassan Gaines was becoming a problem she couldn’t shake.
???
(ONE week later)
Dorian stepped into the bank with a purpose, her designer bag clutched tight in one hand and her mind already on business.
Love Nails had been booming lately—her books were full, her staff was finally working like a well-oiled machine, and the money?
Rolling in. She was there to meet with the family’s accountant about shifting some of her profits into an investment portfolio, something long-term to match the empire she was building.
While waiting in the lobby, she held the phone to her ear, Roman’s voice playing in her ear like background music to her thoughts.
“So you really not coming out with me tonight?” he asked for the fifth time, that teasing grit in his voice.
Dorian smirked to herself, knowing he wasn't used to hearing no—especially not from a woman like her. She liked Roman—more than she wanted to admit—but she wasn’t blind to the type of man he was.
He had women checking for him left and right, and Dorian was way too crazy to get caught up in a damn love triangle over him.
Still… she enjoyed being around him. They vibed like homies most of the time, outside of the constant flirting he threw her way—and that one night he fucked her too good.
After that, she had to take a step back, give herself some space.
But even with the distance, she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. It was magnetic. Dangerous.
And hard as hell to ignore
“I’m only coming if I can bring my girls,” she said lowly, trying to keep her voice discreet. The last thing she needed was folks in the bank hearing her flirt with the city’s most infamous right-hand man. “Bring whoever you want. I just wanna see your fine ass again,”
Roman replied smoothly, the cocky smile in his voice making her roll her eyes and laugh despite herself.
“Whatever, Roman—” she started, but her voice caught. Her gaze lifted—and just like that, the mood shifted. The universe had a wicked sense of humor.
Ariel.
Dorian’s entire posture changed the moment she laid eyes on her.
Dressed in her business casual best, walking like she wasn’t the reason Sevyn had cried herself to sleep for damn near a week.
Her blood boiled. The ache Sevyn carried, the betrayal that haunted her cousin’s eyes—it all came rushing back.
“Hold up, Roman. I’ll call you back,” Dorian said quickly, not bothering to end the call as she stood. She didn’t even wait to see if Roman had responded.
Her heels clicked against the marble floors with a purpose, and Ariel, oblivious, was already heading out the glass doors for her lunch break.
But Dorian?
Dorian was right on her ass.
“Aye, bitch!” Dorian’s voice sliced through the parking lot like a blade. Ariel froze mid-step, her stomach twisting before she even turned around. But when her eyes landed on Dorian storming toward her, all the color drained from her face.
She turned to make a run for it—but Dorian was faster.
“You wasn’t runnin’ when you was fuckin’ my cousin’s nigga, so don’t run now!” Dorian barked, cutting her off before she could even reach her car.
“Dorian, who the fuck is that?!” Roman’s voice shouted through the phone still clutched in her hand, but Dorian wasn’t listening. Her eyes were locked on Ariel, nothing else mattered.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to go down like that,” Ariel stammered, trying to explain, but Dorian wasn’t here for apologies.
POP!
The punch cracked across Ariel’s mouth, sending her stumbling back with a scream. Dorian’s purse, phone, and keys hit the pavement as she launched into a full-blown attack. All she saw was Sevyn’s swollen, tear-streaked face… the heartbreak… the betrayal.
“You messy-ass, homewreckin’ bitch!” Dorian shouted, grabbing Ariel by the collar and shoving her against the car. “You got my cousin cryin’ over that raggedy-ass nigga, and you thought I was just gon’ let that shit slide?!”
Ariel tried to shield herself, hands flailing, but Dorian was on a mission. She climbed on top of her, straddling her in the middle of the pavement, her fists flying like they had a personal vendetta.
Slap. Punch. Slap.
“I told Sevyn I’d handle you! She might have let that shit go, but I don’t!”
“Stop! I’m preg—” Ariel tried to scream, but Dorian’s fist landed again before the word could even register.
Suddenly, strong arms yanked Dorian off with force. Her body twisted mid-air before she hit someone’s chest. It was Roman.
“Yo! Come on, Dorian—before yo ass end up in jail!” he growled, holding her tight as he carried her to his car .
Ariel lay on the ground, bloody and half-conscious, nose pouring, lips split, her cries muffled behind the ringing in her ears. A small crowd had gathered, phones out, some gasping, some egging it on.
“That’s what the fuck she gets! Being a fuckin’ hoe!” Dorian screamed, still trying to break loose from Roman’s arms. “This ain’t over, bitch! You hear me?! It’s up behind Sevyn forever!”
Roman dragged her toward the car as sirens wailed louder. Dorian didn’t stop shouting. Her chest heaved with every breath, her fists still clenched, her eyes wild. She didn’t give a fuck about the cops, the crowd, or the cameras.
All she knew was Ariel bled, and it still wasn’t enough.
Roman dropped Dorian into the passenger seat of his Lamborghini like she weighed nothing, tossing her bag and keys in after her.
She was still fuming, yelling out the window, but he ignored her for now.
He shut the door gently—too gently for what was boiling inside him— before turning and walking back toward the bloodied mess crumpled against the side of a car.
Ariel.
The wail of police sirens grew louder in the distance, but Roman didn’t flinch. The law didn’t shake him. Never had.
"You better not say shit to them cops," he said, voice low, calm, and deadly enough to make her breath hitch.
Ariel looked up at him, blood dripping from her busted nose, her eyes wild with fear. "Do you see my face?!" she shrieked. "I'm pregnant, too!"