Page 142 of I See You

She didn’t want what he could offer—she just wanted him. And he hadn’t realized how much he needed that until tonight.

As he continued following her, his phone rang—snapping him out of his thoughts. Nova again. The tenth time today.

“What,mane?”heanswered,jawtight,tonesimmeringwith irritation.

“I miss you,” her soft voice blared through his car speakers.

“Cut that mushy ass shit. We not like that,” he shot back, voicecold and flat. He heard her sigh on the other end.

“I just wanna fuck, Hassan. Can I see you?” He didn’t answer right away.

Even though being with Sevyn gave him peace—joy he hadn’t felt in years—Hassan missed sex. Missed the release. Nova was good at what she did, and he needed to get his. That’s all it was ever about.

“Aight. I’ll come by later tonight. Leave the door unlocked.”

He could practically hear her smile through the phone. “Yes, daddy,” she whispered before the line disconnected.

Women like Nova were toys to him. No emotion. No conversation. Just a body, just a release, and that was it. That’s all she’d ever be. Because a woman like Sevyn? She made him feel. And he wasn’t ready for that—not fully. Not yet.

They pulled into her building, parking side by side. He watched her get out first, admiring her like he always did—quiet, controlled, but captivated. They walked into the lobby together, stepping into the elevator. She pressed her penthouse floor, using her fingerprint on her phone to unlock access.

Hassan noticed immediately. Secure. Smart. He approved.

If her elevator opened straight into her home, that security better be airtight—or there’d be a problem.

They stepped into her penthouse in silence.

He looked around like he always did. Everything was clean, calming. The scent in her space—the warm, feminine softness of it— settled over him the second they walked in. Being here always eased something in his chest.

“Want something to drink?” she asked, heading toward the kitchen.

He shook his head and moved into the spacious living room, sinking into her soft beige sectional. Moments later, she returned with a glass of wine and the entire bottle in her other hand.

“You love wine, huh?” he asked, voice low, calm as usual. She chuckled. “Are you judging me, Mr. Gaines?”

His lips twitched. A real chuckle slipped past his lips—something only she could pull out of him.

“Nah,” he said, watching her like he always did. The way her hips moved, the way her skin caught the light. The way her presence felt like silence without tension. And that was the problem. She didn’t feel like a release. She felt like peace. And Hassan didn’t know what to do with that.

Sevyn sank into the couch across from him, tucking her feet beneath her now that her shoes were off. She took a slow sip of wine, letting the warmth settle her nerves, but her eyes drifted right back to him—and he was already looking at her.

“Why do everyone call you Ice, because of your eyes?” Sevyn asked, taking a slow sip of her wine, her tone light but curious— digging gently.

Hassan sank deeper into the couch, legs spread with that signature confidence, watching her from beneath lowered lids. Calm. Unbothered. Silent for a beat.

“Why they call you Sevyn?” he shot back, making her laugh softly. “Well, because it’s my name,” Sevyn replied, her sarcasm soft but playful.

Then her voice softened, eyes drifting slightly as memories pulled her in. “My parents said I completed their love,” she continued quietly. “They tried for years—miscarriage after miscarriage. I was their seventh pregnancy… and their miracle.”

She said it with pride, a quiet strength behind the words.

Hassan nodded, taking that in. It made sense. She felt like a miracle—one he didn’t understand yet, but couldn’t deny. From the moment he saw her, she moved something in him he thought was dead.

“Jules gave me the name,” he finally said, voice low, rough. “Said a cold nigga needed a cold name.”

Sevyn frowned slightly, the weight of that explanation settling between them.

“Who’s Jules?”

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