Chapter 19 #3
“Why… why do you have flowers?” Sevyn asked, her voice shaky as she looked down at the bouquet—anywhere but into his eyes.
“They’re for you,” Hassan said simply.
She shook her head. “Flowers for—” she started, trying to collect herself.
“I’m sorry,” he cut her off, voice low but certain. “For leaving the way I did that night. You weren’t some quick fuck. But I dipped out like you were.”
The words hit her like a slap. Her mouth parted, caught off guard. “So you thought flowers and some jewelry were gonna make up for how you made me feel?” she said, her voice cracking as she let the pain show. “I felt used, Hassan.”
He placed the emerald roses and Cartier bag gently on her desk, then turned back to face her.
“I wasn’t using you. That’s not what it was. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I—” he stopped himself, jaw flexing.
She could see the struggle in him. Apologizing wasn’t something he did. Hell, caring wasn’t something he allowed himself to do, but here he was. Trying.
“I get it if you had to leave. But you could’ve left a note. Sent a text. Called the next morning. Something.” Her voice was lower now, laced with disappointment. “I didn’t hear from you for three days.”
Hassan nodded slowly, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Something happened at the casino,” he said, his tone clipped. He left out the real reason —Braxton, the detective, the case—but she could feel it. That there was more.
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh my God. Everything okay?”
That small flicker of concern in her voice made him chuckle bitterly. One minute, she was saying he was a mistake. The next, she was worried about him.
“Yeah,” he replied dryly.
“Good. Because the flowers, whatever’s in that jewelry bag, or even your little apology—no matter how sweet—doesn’t change anything.” Her voice sharpened again, walls flying right back up.
“What we did was a mistake. We crossed a line. We need to go back to therapist and client,” she said, her words like ice. “So if you’re not calling to book a session, we have nothing to talk about.”
His jaw clenched. His eyes burned.
“Come with me,” he said suddenly, reaching for her hand. She yanked it away. “No! I have another session in a few.”
“I ain’t asking again,” he said, turning halfway to the door, his scowl deepening.
He wasn’t done. If the apology didn’t work... if the gifts didn’t move her... maybe this last thing would. He had one more card to play—and he prayed it was enough.
“Cancel it.” Hassan’s tone wasn’t a request—it was a command. “What? No.” Sevyn stood her ground, arms folded, heat rising in her chest.
He walked up to her again, towering over her frame like he always did, gaze locked in. Without another word, he moved past her and picked up her office phone.
“Hassan, what are you doing?” she snapped, stepping toward him, but he ignored her.
A beat passed before Micah’s voice rang through the speaker. “Yes, Sevyn?”
“Cancel all of Sevyn’s appointments today,” Hassan said coolly. Sevyn’s eyes bulged. “Hassan—”
“She’ll be out of the office for the rest of the day,” he finished, then hung up before Micah could respond.
Sevyn stared at him, pissed. “First of all, that was rude as hell. Second, what the fuck are you doing? I have other clients. You're not the only one.”
He stared back, calm. Unbothered. “Either you come with me, or I’ll cause a scene in front of all your coworkers. And it won’t be pretty.”
She groaned, rubbing her temples. “I’m so tired of you threatening me to get your way.”
“Sometimes, I don’t even gotta threaten you, and you still do what I want.” His voice was smooth and smug, and she wanted to slap that look o ff his face—and kiss it, damn it.
“Bring your gift,” he added, motioning to the roses and Cartier bag. “But you can’t open it ‘til we get there.”
“Where exactly are we going?” she asked, skeptical.
“Bring yo ass, Sevyn,” he said, already walking out like he owned her day.
She stood there, fuming for a second before grabbing her bag, the gifts, and following behind like always. Because no matter how much she fought it, she was always right behind him.
When she got to the lot, her car was gone. But Hassan’s blue Ferrari sat out front like royalty, and there he was, leaning against it like the damn CEO of chaos himself.
“Where the fuck is my car, Hassan?”
“I had it delivered to your place. I’m doing all the driving today.” He opened the door for her like this was some kind of twisted fairytale.
She rolled her eyes, stepping inside. “This is the second time you’ve kidnapped me. And I’m really getting tired of it.”
“I’ll eat that sweet ass pussy later to make up for it,” he muttered under his breath before closing her door.
Because no matter what she said about keeping things professional, he already tasted her. Felt her. Claimed her. And Hassan had no plans of letting her go.
Hassan sped out of the parking lot and onto the main road while Sevyn leaned against the door, arms crossed and her face twisted in attitude.
“Fix yo face, mane,” he said with a smirk, glancing at her. Even with the scowl, she was still beautiful.
“No, 'cause you really got me fucked up,” she shot back, low but sharp.
Hassan chuckled, but there was something heavier simmering beneath it. He couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“You remind me of my mother.”
The words slipped out before he could catch them. Sevyn’s expression softened instantly. She turned to him, but didn’t speak.
“Kristi,” he added quietly, eyes glued to the road. “Her name was Kristi.”
Sevyn smiled to herself, her curiosity blooming again. Another layer peeled back. Her heart warmed at the fact he even said that out loud.
“Can you tell me more about her?” she asked gently.
He glanced at her, then back to the road. “You asking as my therapist... or my friend?”
It was the vulnerability in his voice that caught her off guard. He wasn’t putting on a mask, or posturing. This was him, raw and unfil tered.
“A... friend,” she said truthfully.
“Oh, so we friends again? What happened to ‘this is strictly therapist and client’?” Hassan mocked, mimicking her voice with a cocky smirk.
Sevyn rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m still not fucking with you,” she said coolly, but the softness in her voice betrayed her. “But I still want to hear about your mother.”
Hassan let out a low chuckle, not the arrogant kind—this one carried weight.
“Nah,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I don’t talk about my mother to anybody, Sev. So I need to know this ain’t just another session where you tryna fix me.”
She mugged him, but her voice stayed soft. “I was never trying to fix you, Hassan. I was—well, I am—just trying to get you to see the man I see.”
His grip tightened on the wheel. “And who’s that?”
“Stop shifting the topic,” she smiled. “Tell me about Ms. Kristi. And how I remind you of her.”
Hassan chuckled, low and distant. But Sevyn could already feel the weight building in his chest before he even spoke.
“She was loving... smart as hell, and the goofiest person I knew,” Hassan said, his voice low, distant, but steady. “She could cuss me out and make me laugh in the same breath.”
Sevyn smiled softly, the love in his tone evident. It radiated through every word.
“She never once judged me. Even when I was bad as hell, she still looked at me like I was an angel. Her little angel.”
He let out a small, sad chuckle, one that felt more like a breath caught between memory and pain.
“My pops was always hard on me—even though I was only a baby. But her? She was soft. Nurturing. Caring.” His jaw tightened. “She didn’t deserve to go out the way she did. Cutthroat. Ruthless.”
Sevyn reached across the console, wrapping her hand around his. He looked down at their fingers intertwined and let out a low laugh, not from humor, but remembrance.
“See… she used to do the same shit. If I was crying, sad, or mad— no matter how many times my pops told me to ‘suck that shit up,’ she’d cuss his ass out and let me feel. Let me sit in my pain.” He paused, his voice roughening. “I became emotionless the day I saw her take her last breath.”
The car came to a red light. Hassan’s eyes drifted to her. She was already looking at him, their hands still locked tight.
“The way she made me feel—safe, peaceful, loved—that’s what you m ake me feel,” he said, almost like it pained him to admit it. “And that shit scares the fuck outta me.”
Sevyn’s breath hitched, but she didn’t let go.
“I never expressed this much to anyone. Ever. When I’m upset or overwhelmed, I don’t need a drink. I don’t need a gun. I need you. Your presence, your voice, your touch. Just like I needed my mama’s when I was little.”
The light turned green. Horns blared from behind them, but Hassan didn’t move. He didn’t give a fuck.
“Seeing you hurt by Braxton and that bitch? That shit felt like watching my mama bleed out all over again. And the way I made you feel for leaving that night?” His jaw clenched. “It felt like I pulled the fucking trigger. And I don’t ever wanna feel that again. I felt like I was losing you.”
Sevyn’s throat tightened, her eyes already glistening.
“So Sevyn, seriously…” he exhaled. “I know I’m trash at expressing myself. But I apologize for that night. Deeply. You worth more to me than you even know. And I know I can be cold. I can do wild, fucked up shit... but I hope you see through that. See me.”
A single tear slipped from her eye, and she wiped it away quickly. His words—raw, jagged, vulnerable—wrapped around her heart and squeezed.
Hassan didn’t wait for a response. He just drove off, letting her sit with his truth. Her silence didn’t bother him. He knew she was thinking. And honestly, so was he.
He meant every fucking word. And for once, he wasn’t scared to admit it.
Minutes later, they pulled into the hospice facility parking lot.
Sevyn looked out the window, confusion settling across her face. “Where are we?” she asked, her voice soft.
“The hospice my granny’s in,” Hassan answered simply, and Sevyn’s head snapped toward him in surprise.
“I respect if you want this to be strictly therapist and client,” he added. “You said you wanted one of our sessions to include Harper and my grandmother... they’re waiting inside.”
Sevyn’s heart thudded louder in her chest. She remembered asking for this—but that was before the night they crossed the line, before the feelings crept in, before he cracked open and let her see the storm that lived inside him.
This wasn’t just some session. This was intimate. Deeper than deep. This was Hassan pulling her into a space he kept locked from the world. A place not even his demons touched.
Her ignoring him for the last couple days must’ve rattled something in him, because this?
This wasn’t the man who’d walked into her office two months ago with eyes like steel and a presence that screamed danger.
That man was Ice. This was Hassan. Still cold, still guarded—but open. Vulnerable. Letting her in.
“I’m nervous,” she finally admitted, staring down at her hands. He chuckled. “Why? You just my therapist, remember?”
She shot him a glare, which only made him smirk harder.
“First,” he said, nodding toward the Cartier bag on her lap, “open your gift.”
Sevyn sighed, rolling her eyes, but curiosity got the best of her. She pulled the jewelry box out, snapping it open—and her breath caught. Inside was a stunning emerald green Révélation d’une Panthère watch. Her mouth parted slightly as she took it in.
“My mother’s favorite color was emerald. Just like yours,” Hassan said, his voice a shade softer than usual. “Her home office was the exact same color as yours. When I stepped into your space that first day, it fucked me up. Had me feeling shit I wasn’t ready to feel.”
Sevyn’s eyes lifted from the watch to his face, the weight of his words hitting her harder than any price tag ever could.
“Is that why you didn’t want your sessions in my office? It reminded you too much of her?” she asked quietly.
He nodded, then let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. But there was no escaping it since your damn bedroom was the same color.”
She laughed despite herself, placing the watch gently back in the bag. “Who coached you on how to apologize to a woman?”
He smirked and shook his head, ignoring the question completely. “Come on, Sevyn.”
He stepped out and came around to open her door. As she stepped into the cool evening air, the breeze lifted her straightened hair, and the nerves returned, wrapping themselves around her chest.
But then he spoke again.
“Before we go in... I said a lot in that car. More than I wanted to. More than I ever have. And I know you probably saw it coming, but I need to say it anyway.”
Sevyn didn’t say a word. She just looked at him, knowing what he needed—letting him say it on his own terms.
“I need a hug. I need to feel you in my arms again before we walk in there... and before you hear the shit Madea and Harper about to say that’s gon’ piss me off.”
That made her laugh. “Aww, come here.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her close, his hands settling on her waist like he was grounding himself in her. Holding on like her touch was the only thing keeping him from spiraling.
“Don’t ever fucking ignore me that long again,” he murmured again st her neck, inhaling her scent like it was medicine.
The way he said it—like her silence had been unbearable—told her everything she needed to know. She wasn’t just a quick fuck. She wasn’t just another woman who got too close. He needed her. That was what this was. A need. A craving. A connection deeper than either of them were ready to admit.
When they finally pulled apart, she didn’t speak. Her hand lingered on his chest for a moment before they turned and walked toward the entrance.
As they stepped inside, Sevyn could feel the energy shift. Nurses at the front looked up in surprise, eyes flicking to Hassan, then her. Their stares didn’t bother her—what rattled her was the rapid pace of her own heartbeat. It only got louder with every step down that quiet hallway.
And the closer they got to Ms. Helen’s room... the heavier it pounded.