Page 165 of I See You

Even in silence, he was still with her—in this space, in her chest, and in the way her heart beat just a little faster.

Minuteslater,Sevynpaddeddownthestairs,herbodylooseand relaxed in a way it hadn’t been in days. Hassan’s shower had worked wonders on her—so good, she stood directly under the rainfall head until her once bone-straight hair transformed back into its natural curls. Now, twisted into a messy bun at the crown of her head, her curls dripped with the scent of coconut and vanilla, her skin dewy and glowing from her facial routine.

Thank God for Dorian, who packed everything she needed. Toothbrush, skincare, perfume, and of course—two options for sleepwear. One sexy as hell, clearly meant to tempt Hassan. The other, more subtle: soft shorts and a loose tank. Predictably, she skipped the lingerie. Even bolder than she knew, Dorian had clearly anticipated that.

Now freshly cleaned and barefaced, Sevyn walked into the living room and froze.

Hassan sat stretched out on the couch, shirtless, wearing nothing but grey shorts that hung low on his waist, showcasing abs that could’ve been carved from stone. His beard still held drops of water, glistening under the dim light. He was watching the game like it was just another night—but the second she stepped in, his head turned.

He didn’t say a word, just drank her in with those piercing blue eyes. Her presence always had an effect on him—but right now, he looked like a man starving.

"It smells good in here," Sevyn said, smiling and trying to keep her voice calm under the heat of his gaze. "What are we having?"

"Come see," Hassan said, rising to his feet with a lazy kind of power that made her breath catch. He walked toward the kitchen, and like always, she followed—drawn to him like gravity.

The moment they stepped inside, Sevyn’s jaw nearly hit the floor. A long, black marble dining table was covered in the kind of meal you’d only expect at a five-star restaurant. Standing proudly behind the spread was a tall, dark-skinned man in a chef’s uniform, his smile wide and welcoming.

“This is Rich,” Hassan said casually. “Best private chef in the city.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sevyn said, still in awe.

“Pleasure’s mine,” Rich replied with a nod. “Everything’s made fresh, just how Mr. Gaines requested."

“For the main course, we have Cajun butter-seared lamb chops,” Rich began, his deep voice smooth as silk as he unveiled the spread like art. “Tender, juicy, and seasoned to perfection—finished with a garlic-herb butter drizzle.”

Sevyn’s eyes lit up, her mouth already watering. Lamb chops—her favorite—and the smell alone reminded her of home. Her mother’s cooking. Richness. Love. That kind of love she hadn’t tasted in years. “And to pair,” Rich continued, lifting the lid off the next dish like he washosting a Michelin-star show, “truffle mac and cheese. Three- cheese blend with truffle oil, topped with panko crumbs and baked to a golden crust.”

Her eyes widened at the bubbling, creamy mac—cheese clinging to the spoon, steam dancing in the air. She hadn’t even taken a bite yet, and she already wanted seconds.

Hassan didn’t flinch, didn’t react, just sat calm and composed like meals like this were routine. For him, maybe they were. But Sevyn? She wasn’t used to luxury looking this personal. This intentional.

“And here—braised collard greens with crispy shallots,” Rich went on. “Simmered in a red wine vinegar base, with just a kiss of maple syrup.”

Sevyn blinked. A kiss of syrup? What was this, poetry?

“Roasted sweet potato purée—whipped smooth with cinnamon, brown butter, and a hint of cayenne. And finally,” he added with a grin, “hot water cornbread. So good, it’ll make you wanna slap your mama.”

That one pulled a full laugh from Sevyn. The kind that loosened her shoulders and made her forget the weight she carried all day.

“Rich,” she said with a soft smile, “you might be my new best friend.”

“Hey now,” Harper’s voice echoed in her head as if ready to fight for the title.

“It smells incredible,” she added sincerely. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Rich said, giving a respectful nod before turning to Hassan. “Payment received. Appreciate you, boss.”

“Good lookin’,” Hassan replied, still low and unreadable, but a nod of appreciation followed.

As Rich gathered his things and quietly exited, Sevyn stole a glance at Hassan. He didn’t do this for just anyone. That much was clear. And she couldn’t ignore the truth anymore—this wasn’t just about food. This was him saying I’m sorry, in his own language. And damn, it wasworking.

Sevyn sat beside Hassan at the long marble table, the low lights casting a soft glow over the spread. The first bite of food sent a slow, involuntary moan slipping from her lips. Rich didn’t just cook—he performed. Every forkful was seasoned to perfection, layered with flavor, and kissed with something deeper. Love maybe. Or pride. Either way, it showed.

She wasn’t about to say it out loud, but these lamb chops? Might’ve just knocked her mama’s off the top spot.

Hassan didn’t say much while they ate, but she could feel him watching her—discreet glances while she tasted, chewed, swallowed. He was studying her face for approval. She could see it in the way his eyes flicked over her, waiting.

“This is really good,” she finally said, setting her fork down dramatically. “Okay, be honest—who told you lamb chops were my favorite?”

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