Page 84 of I See You

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 aboutturning 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 tobe 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.

Hislipstwitched,buthisvoiceremainedeven.“Nobodyisthinking about fucking you, Sevyn.”

“Good,”shecountered,crossingherarmsasiftosolidifyher 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.”

Butevenashesaidit,heknewthetruth—beingaroundher feltdifferent.Itwasdangerous,unsettling,butforonceinhislife, 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."

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