Page 114 of I See You

The ride to Roman’s house was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft bass of the music vibrating through the car—but the silence between the women? Loud. Thick with unspoken thoughts and side- eyes. Harper kept glancing over at Sevyn, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips like she was dying to ask what really went down with Hassan. But she held her tongue.

Sevyn, on the other hand, refused to look her way. Her eyes stayed glued to the road, jaw clenched, pulse racing. The smirk she could feel coming from Harper was louder than the music. She just focused on getting there in one piece.

When they finally pulled up to Roman’s estate—massive, gated, intimidating—Sevyn felt her chest tighten.

She knew she was about to walk into the fire.

And she wasn’t sure if she had it in her to come out unburned.

???

Sevyn was back at her place in no time, but peace? That was nowhere to be found. Not with Dorian and Harper camped out inher guest rooms, buzzing with energy and questions. The short time spent at Roman’s house had been intense—almost overwhelming. From Dorian’s blow-by-blow recap of nearly killing Ariel in the bank parking lot, to Roman choking her out like it was just another Tuesday, to both of them digging into Sevyn’s “situation” with Hassan—there had been no room to breathe.

Thankfully, she dodged most of their questions about Hassan by sticking to her story: she was only at his office to drop off his jacket and leave. Simple. Safe. Nothing too revealing. She couldn’t exactly say they shared a blunt and had an impromptu therapy session—that would throw up red flags Roman might not be chill about. Especially since it was supposed to be confidential.

Harper, to her credit, kept her word. She promised not to tell anyone about Hassan going to therapy—not even their grandmother. That secret was still intact… for now.

But Sevyn knew another storm was brewing. One that came inthe form of her father. Because despite everything Ariel had done— betraying her, sleeping with Braxton—Ariel’s father, Henry, was still close with Sevyn’s dad. Both personally and in business. And onceword reached him that Dorian had rearranged Ariel’s face in public, Sevyn knew she’d be getting a phone call. Or worse—a family meeting. Growing up, if Dorian got in trouble, Sevyn got questioned. Didn’t matterifshedidn’tthrowapunch;everyoneknewifDorianwas actingup,Sevynwasn’tfarbehind.Theywereadultsnow,butsomethings never changed.

Still, tonight? She was pushing all that to the back of her mind.

Because somehow, Harper and Dorian had suckered her into going out. Again. Another club. Another night. Another round of shots and trouble waiting to happen.

And for once, Sevyn didn’t even mind.

Sevyn might not have been in the mood to get drunk and throw ass, but she damn sure looked the part. She stepped out like she had something to prove. Her dress—brown, skin-tight, and sheer in all the right places—clung to every curve like it was made just for her.Itstoppedjustaboveherankles,givinghergoldTomFordheels the stage they deserved. Each step she took screamed confidence, elegance, and “don’t play with me.”

Her hair, freshly laid days ago, was styled in a long jet-black body wave that cascaded down her back like silk. With her beat face, glossy lips, and lashes long enough to fan the haters away, Sevyn didn’t just look good—she looked unreachable. And she knew it.

Once the girls were dressed, they slid into the black Escalade like they were stepping into a music video. The three of them? Bad bitches on a mission. Heads turned before they even made it to the club, and they hadn’t even gotten out the car yet.

It had been a minute since Sevyn let herself have a real nightout. The drama with Braxton. The blowout at her parents’ house.Her tension with Hassan that she couldn’t even begin to untangle. She was overdue. She didn’t want to think about love, heartbreak, or healing. Tonight wasn’t about any of that.

Tonight was about drowning in the bass, moving like her problems didn’t exist, and reminding herself—and the world—that Sevyn Love wasn’t broken. She was reborn.

Harper and Dorian had one mission: to get Sevyn drunk, dancing, and going home with a fine-ass distraction. But Sevyn? She wasn’t looking for another nigga to disappoint her. She just wanted to feel free. Laugh loud. Move wild. Be seen. Be her.

Because sometimes, healing looked like therapy.

And sometimes, it looked like a sheer dress, gold heels, and a night full of reckless abandon.

Chapter 15

Hassan moved through the casino like a storm in silence— shoulders square, eyes sharp, a lit blunt pressed between his lips as the energy buzzed around him. The place was packed, lights flashing, dice rolling, money flipping hands. Another night of legal chaos disguised as luxury.

With everything going on—his grandmother’s condition, the cops sniffing around cases that had nothing to do with him—he was on edge. Jules told him to keep his hands clean, focus on the legit side, let the streets handle themselves. Easier said than done.

He was waiting on word—info Jules was digging up through his connects—but the longer it took, the tighter his chest felt. Hassan didn’t do well with the unknown. He liked to be ten steps ahead of the next man, not pacing through a casino with unanswered questions burning in the back of his mind.

As he passed through the main floor, he nodded at his workers, eyes cutting over every table like he was tracking a threat. That’s when she stepped up.

“Floor’s smooth tonight,” Tinka said, walking with the type of confidence that couldn’t be taught. “No hiccups. High rollers are happy. Bar’s tight. Even the new girls are keeping up.” She handed him a glass of cognac without missing a beat.

Hassan took it with a silent nod, watching the way she moved in that black-and-white uniform that fit her body like sin. Tinka was in her early-thirties—smart, unshakable, and the reason this floor ran like a well-oiled machine. That’s why he put her in charge.

She was fine as hell. Curves for days. The kind of woman men begged for, and she knew it too. Used it like a weapon to keep the high rollers spending. But Hassan? He didn’t fuck his employees. Didn’t mix business and pleasure. Still, that didn’t stop him from looking. Respectfully.

“What about the back room?” he asked, eyes scanning the security cams mounted up in the corner.

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