Chapter 20 #4
A small smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s my business,” he said, voice low and smooth.
She laughed, shaking her head. “You really outdid yourself with this apology. I might have to ignore you more often.”
Hassan turned his head toward her slow, his expression unreadable. That look? It said: Try me again.
Her laugh doubled. “I’m kidding! Damn.”
The ice melted off him just enough to make her grin wider.
“Do you use Rich often?” she asked, letting her curiosity keep the conversation warm.
“Nah. I cook for myself. It’s just me, ain’t no point making big ass meals.”
She nodded, picking up her wine glass. “I think I might need to get a chef. Does Rich take other clients, or you stingy with him like you stingy with me?”
That made his eyes lift to hers, cool and calm. “Nah, I’ll slide you his number... but he better just be cookin’.”
She raised her brow. “He is. But if he wasn’t… what you gon’ do? You not my man.”
Hassan’s face didn’t flinch. “I’ll kill that nigga, Sevyn. Serve you his head on a silver platter and recite some poetic bullshit like he did—only difference is, I’ll mean every word.”
Sevyn blinked. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t smirk. Just went right back to eating his cornbread like he didn’t just say the wildest shit she’d ever heard.
“You’re joking… right?” she asked, her voice hesitant. He didn’t answer.
Sevyn stared at him, trying to decide if she should be disturbed or flattered—or both. She reached for her wine, needing something to wash down the tension.
“Anyway,” she started, shifting the mood, “I didn’t get the chance to ask you earlier… after that session with Harper and Madea—how do you feel?”
Hassan leaned back slightly, resting his arm on the chair beside him, his voice lower now.
“Lighter,” he said, and she could tell it was the truth.
“I got clarity on a lot of shit. I really thought my grandmother didn’t love me.
I thought she took me in ‘cause she saw I had money… not because she gave a fuck.”
Sevyn nodded, giving him space to release it.
“And Harper thinking I hated her as a kid? That shit pissed me off. I didn’t know she felt like that. Made me want to… I don’t know, express myself more. To the people that actually matter.”
That made Sevyn smile. A real one. She sipped her wine and watched him through the curve of her glass.
They didn’t say much after that. Didn’t have to. They just kept eating, letting the silence settle comfortably between them. A silence that spoke of progress. Of healing. Of something quietly growing— real, slow, and undeniable.
"So when you gon’ move on starting that clinic?" Hassan asked, breaking the silence.
The question caught Sevyn off guard, but her lips curved into a slow, surprised smile. “You remember me telling you that?”
She hadn’t even realized how much that meant to her—him remembering something she only mentioned once in passing.
Braxton used to brush off her dreams like they were distractions from his spotlight, only caring about how well she fit beside him, how perfectly polished they looked together.
But Hassan… he was different. She never had to repeat herself with him.
Even when she thought he wasn’t listening, he was.
"I remember everything you tell me, Sevyn,” Hassan said, voice calm and steady. “I might not always respond with words... but I hear you.”
Her chest fluttered at his honesty. “Well, hopefully soon. I finally have the money to start building,” she explained.
“I just… I want it to be right. I’ve been waiting for the perfect location, the perfect time, the perfect design.
The way you pay me for these little ‘sessions’ of yours, it might happen sooner than later.
” She teased, letting out a soft chuckle.
Hassan raised a brow. “Ain’t your people wealthy? Why was money even a issue?”
She looked at him with a soft smile, already knowing where that question came from. "Yeah, they are. But everything I have, I worked for. My family’s money ain’t mine. I never wanted handouts from my father. I appreciate what I build with my own hands.”
He nodded slowly, respect deepening in his gaze. Most women he dealt with either lived off their daddy’s money or were busy hunting for the next rich man to leech off. But Sevyn… she was building her empire brick by brick. No shortcuts. No safety nets. Just grit.
His phone buzzed, breaking the moment. He glanced down, jaw ticking when he saw Nova calling—again.
“Need to get that?” Sevyn asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she caught a glimpse of Nova’s name flashing across his screen.
Hassan didn’t even glance at the phone again. “Nah,” he said casua lly, like her name held no weight, no memory, no pull.
And when Sevyn smiled—subtle but sincere—it wasn’t just because he declined the call.
It was the way he said it. Like no one else mattered.
Like she was the only one in the room worth answering to.
Without hesitation, he declined the call, scrolled to her contact, and blocked her.
He hadn’t spoken to her since the night he stood her up.
After Sevyn? He didn’t want distractions.
Didn’t want meaningless sex, shallow conversations, or fake affection. He only wanted her.
"I fuck with that,” he said, his tone deep and sure. “You gon’ get that clinic. I feel it.”
Sevyn smiled, heart warming at the conviction in his voice.
She hesitated, then spoke again, quieter this time. “About what you said in the car earlier… about me seeing you…”
Hassan turned toward her fully, his attention locked in.
“I do see you… and you see me too,” she said. “And it scares the fuck outta me.”
He stayed silent, letting her continue.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen. From the first night at the club when our eyes met, it felt like... you weren’t looking at me—you were looking into me. And the way your eyes softened, just for a second, before they went hard again… I’ve never felt that with anyone.”
Hassan’s eyes didn’t leave hers. He didn’t blink.
Just listened. “Then when you told me I was hurting at Roman’s party…
I felt exposed. Offended, even. Not because it wasn’t true, but because you saw it.
You saw the very thing I’d been hiding, even from myself.
And when you were against therapy, I was actually relieved. ”
His brow lifted. “Why?”
She smiled softly. “Because I was scared. Scared that you’d read deeper into me than I’d ever be able to read into you.
I’ve spent my whole life helping people heal, Hassan.
But with you, I can’t hide. You strip me bare—without even trying.
And it’s scary... but it’s a relief too.
Around you, I can be vulnerable. And I’m not used to that.
So, for all the times you think I see you. .. just know, you see me too.”
Her voice was steady, but her eyes shimmered with raw honesty. It hit Hassan deep—deeper than anything ever had. She had just put into words what he hadn’t been able to say for weeks.
One beat passed. Then another. And then he couldn’t take it anymore.
He leaned in and crashed his lips against hers, devouring her in a kiss that said everything his words couldn’t. She didn’t hesitate. She melted into it, hands finding his face, mouths moving like they were always meant to.
Whatever this was… it was no mistake. It was real. It was heavy.
And neither of them could pretend anymore .
Hassan pushed back from the table without a word, fire in his eyes as he stood and scooped Sevyn into his arms. Their mouths never broke apart. He carried her up the stairs with purpose, her moans threading between their kisses like a song he never wanted to stop playing.
This wasn’t about lust. This wasn’t about sex.
Sevyn was never just a body. Never a way to unwind, forget, or escape. She was the storm and the peace. The comfort and the chaos. And he was about to show her exactly what she meant to him.
He laid her gently on the bed, lips trailing from her mouth to her jawline, then down the soft column of her neck, finding every spot that made her sigh, that made her legs part involuntarily.
Her body melted into his like it belonged there.
But just when he tugged her tank top up, his urgency turned to recklessness—he ripped it clean off.
“Hassan!” she gasped, breath catching, eyes wide from the raw hunger in his eyes.
The red lace bra she wore nearly made him lose his breath. But as he stared down at her, something in Sevyn shifted. Her heart was racing, her body was burning—but her mind pushed back, trying to surface through the fog of desire.
“Hassan... we can’t do this,” she whispered, voice trembling. “It complicates things. It complicates me.”
He didn’t stop.
He slid one strap of her bra down, then the other, unhooking it with a slow, reverent touch like it was spun from gold.
“I promise I’m not gon’ dip on you again,” he murmured, his lips tracing fire down her stomach, each kiss sealing the weight of his words.
“I mean that, Sevyn. I need you more than my next breath.”
Her breath hitched—but she had to stop this. “We can’t do this,” she breathed, even as her body betrayed her, hips rising to meet his hands. “I’m still your therapist.”
“You’re fired,” he said simply.
Her eyes shot open, confused and hurt all at once. “What?”
He yanked off her pants in one smooth motion, revealing the matching red lace underneath. His eyes dragged down the curves of her body like he was memorizing every inch.
Sevyn blinked, stunned. “You’re firing me... to fuck me?”
A smirk curved on his lips. He leaned down, stopping just before his mouth touched hers, their breaths mingling like a promise not yet spoken.