Chapter 17 #4
The waiter returned, placing their drinks and food in front of them, offering a brief interruption. Sevyn grabbed her glass like it was a lifeline, silently hoping that would be enough to steer Hassan off the trail.
But the moment the waiter left, his eyes shifted right back to her. “I hate liars, Sevyn,” he said, calm but firm, popping a fry in his mouth like he didn’t just gut her with the truth.
She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze. Took a slow sip of her margarita and braced herself.
“Umm… I had brunch with my family earlier today,” she started. Her voice didn’t crack, but her body betrayed her—hands trembling just enough to show the wound was still fresh.
Hassan didn’t say anything, just kept eating, his eyes never leaving her. Listening.
“I thought it was gonna be our normal brunch, like we do once a month. But they blindsided me. Invited my ex-best friend and her parents.”
The name Ariel never left her lips, but the tension creeping into her voice filled in the blank.
“Why she your ex-best friend?” Hassan asked, voice low, like he already knew it was about to get dark.
Sevyn exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the untouched plate in front of her. “Well… remember when I said Braxton cheated on me?” Her voice was calm, but tight. Fragile.
She paused, then looked up—just enough. “It was her he cheated with.”
Hassan’s jaw clenched, his hand pausing mid-reach for another fry.
She swallowed. “My family does business with hers, so I guess they thought it'd be best if we talked it out. Try to keep things… smooth between the families. ”
She toyed with her fork, appetite gone now. Her stomach tightened just thinking about Ariel’s face, that moment at brunch, the words she still couldn’t repeat.
“So did you forgive her?” Hassan asked, his voice flat but sharp.
Sevyn shot him a look, her mug speaking louder than words. “Can we talk about something else, please?”
He studied her for a second, seeing the shift in her eyes, the way her voice barely held steady. Whatever happened at that brunch, she wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet. And even if she tried, it would’ve shattered her.
Hassan nodded once, and didn’t push again.
But the silence between them carried more weight than either of them expected.
They drifted into lighter conversation after that.
Sevyn opened up about her upbringing a little—stories about her childhood, her parents, her goal of opening her own clinic.
They laughed over bites of food and soft glances toward Jada, who was laughing with her teammates, carefree in a way Sevyn prayed would stick with her.
Sevyn glanced back at Hassan. “So I’m not the only one carrying tension in my shoulders. What’s on your mind?”
Hassan stared at her for a second. “Nothing. I’m not in need of a therapy session right now.”
She caught the deflection. Saw it in the way his eyes didn’t quite settle. But she let it go—for now.
“Okay,” she said, poking at her pasta. “But I do want to ask you something.”
“What?” he said, voice low and already knowing he couldn’t dodge her for long.
“What’s something you always wanted to do as a kid but couldn’t?”
He looked at her like the question caught him off guard—but his mind went there anyway. “Race. Like go-karts and shit.”
Her face lit up. She smiled wide, genuine and warm, before placing her napkin down on the table and standing.
“What you doing?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Let’s go ride some go-karts. Jada looks like she’s good, and I’m not really in the mood to eat.”
She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet, and he narrowed his eyes. “You aight?”
“I gotta pee,” she admitted, laughing. “Had too much alcohol, today. But yes or no?”
Hassan stared, unmoved.
“I’m not walking away until you say yes,” she said, now shifting in place. “I will pee on myself right here.”
A laugh rumbled from Hassan’s chest, catching even him off guard . “Yes, mane. Go take your pissy ass to the restroom.”
Sevyn grinned and took off toward the bathroom, still laughing as she disappeared inside.
Hassan leaned back in his chair, watching the door she’d gone through, a rare smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He didn’t expect this day to feel like anything—but somehow, it did.
Sevyn returned from the restroom in no time, and the moment she stepped back into view, she felt Hassan’s eyes on her. His gaze traveled slowly from head to toe, and the way he looked at her—low, focused, admiring—sent a shiver straight down her spine.
He was on the phone, voice low and clipped.
“Aight.” He hung up. She noticed the shift immediately—the tightness in his jaw, the way his whole body seemed to tense.
Whoever had been on the other end of that call had disrupted his calm, but she didn’t ask.
Not yet. “You ready?” she asked softly once she approached him.
He gave a short nod and pulled two crisp hundreds from his pocket, laying them on the table before standing. They made a quick stop to check in on Jada, made sure she was settled and surrounded by people she trusted, then slipped out as the sun began to melt into the horizon.
Sevyn climbed into her car, glancing in the rearview to see the black Bentley sliding in behind her. She shook her head with a small smile. Hassan behind the wheel always looked like a movie. She didn’t say it out loud, but deep down, she wanted this moment to be more than just a random outing.
She wanted to know him.
Not just the thirty-foot wall he kept up or the twenty-five-year- old man hardened by trauma and survival.
She wanted to know the versions of him that had never gotten a chance to grow.
The six-year- old boy who lost everything.
The ten-year-old carrying the weight of a kill.
The haunted parts of him that still surfaced in shadows.
She didn’t just want to talk him through it—she wanted to give those versions of him something he never had.
Joy. Play. Freedom.
They pulled into the go-kart place, a quiet buzz of excitement starting to build in her chest. As they stepped inside, Sevyn instinctively reached for her card, but Hassan didn’t even let her get close.
“I got it,” he said, sliding his black American Express forward without blinking.
She smiled. Not because he paid, but because it was just him—a walking contradiction. A man everyone called cold, dangerous, detached. But here he was, making space for her joy without saying a word. Quietly taking care of things. Present in a way that warmed her more t han she’d expected.
They grabbed their helmets and stood in line, waiting for their turn on the track. The smell of rubber, engine oil, and adrenaline filled the air around them.
“You ready to lose?” Sevyn teased, tilting her head with a grin. Hassan chuckled low, that deep, calm tone sliding under her skin.
“I don’t lose.”
“Wanna put your money where your mouth is?” she challenged, raising a brow.
That got his attention.
For the first time since she’d met him, his eyes lit up—not with danger, but excitement.
He looked around the indoor go-kart arena like he was a kid seeing something he never thought he’d get to touch.
And Sevyn? She couldn’t stop smiling. Watching him like this— unguarded, wide-eyed—it warmed something in her she didn’t know needed thawing.
His gaze returned to hers, sharp again but softer somehow. “What’s the bet?” he asked, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other gripping his helmet.
“If I win, you have to agree to one of our sessions… with Harper and your grandmother.” Her voice was playful, but the request was real.
He instantly mugged her, expression flat. But he didn’t say no.
“And if you lose?” he asked, voice even lower now.
Sevyn crossed her arms, already grinning. “What do you want, Hassan?”
He looked her up and down slowly, not even trying to hide it this time. A smirk tugged at his mouth. “I get to sleep in that comfortable- ass bed of yours again.”
The moment he said it, she tensed—just slightly, but enough for him to see it. Her lips parted, already ready to protest.
“That can’t happen ag—”
“You scared?” he cut in smoothly, tone challenging, unreadable.
She stared at him, biting on her bottom lip as her pride did all the talking for her. “Deal. I’m gonna win anyway.”
He extended his hand, and she took it. Their palms touched— warm, slow, charged. The deal was sealed.
Their names were called next. Time to race.
And Sevyn prayed like hell she didn’t lose—because she already knew what having him in her bed did to her. Once was enough.
“Put these on,” one of the workers said, handing them black ski masks to wear under the helmets.
Sevyn slid hers on, careful not to disturb her bun, and when she looke d up, her breath caught.
Hassan had already pulled his on. The dark mask framed his face, but his crystal-blue eyes still cut through—sharp, intense, beautiful in a way that made her chest ache.
How can a man look that good in a ski mask? she thought, shaking it off before her legs gave out. They soon put their helmets on after ready to race.
“Follow me,” another worker called out, leading them to the lineup of go-karts.
Sevyn slid into hers, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the track. Hassan got in right behind her, silent as ever.
The engines revved, lights turned green, and the race took off.
Sevyn pushed forward hard, but Hassan blew past her like he’d done this a thousand times.
Even though she couldn’t see his face, she felt the joy radiating off him.
Every time he passed her or she cut in front of him, she could feel it—he was having fun.
Real fun. Maybe for the first time in a long time.
They neared the finish line. Hassan was trailing, and Sevyn smiled, thinking she had it in the bag—until boom.