Page 57 of I See You

Then, finally—

"Want anything?" His voice cut through the tension, making her finally look at him.

For a second, she considered it. Considered drowning the heat coursing through her, the nervous energy coiling in her stomach.

But she shook her head. She had already had enough drinks with Harper—drinks that had her just tipsy enough to let her guard slip if she wasn’t careful.

And with Hassan this close? That was dangerous.

"No, I’m good. Thank you." Her voice was soft, controlled, her eyes flickering back to the crowd, trying to focus on anything but him.

But it didn’t matter. Because she felt him beside her. And that was enough.

Hassan turned, leaning his back against the bar again, his posture completely at ease as he took a slow sip of his cognac. The glass hovered near his lips, the rich, amber liquor coating his tongue, smooth like every one of his movements.

Sevyn inhaled, catching the scent of his expensive-ass cologne, the deep musk wrapping around her like a warm blanket. It was rich, intoxicating—a scent that lingered long after he left the room.

She knew he had called her over for a reason. And though it both made her curious and a little nervous, she kept herself calm, poised. She wouldn’t let him see what he did to her.

"So why aren’t you playing any games?" she finally spoke up, deciding to break the silence since he still hadn’t said shit.

"I don’t gamble. Not in this way, at least." His voice was low, his words measured as his eyes stayed ahead, like he was watching her and his back at the same time.

Sevyn let out a light chuckle, her gaze sliding to the sharp cut of his jaw before looking away again.

"That’s funny. You own a casino, but don’t gamble." She teased, waiting for a reaction.

But Hassan? He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t give her shit. Then—

"You a therapist, but hurting."

Her body froze. Her breath caught in her throat. Her head snapped toward him with a mug on her face, like she felt him hit a nerve.

Because he did. Hard.

And when his gaze met hers, that cold, unreadable stare boring into her, he smirked—just slightly—before turning away again, sipping his drink like he hadn’t just shaken her entire world with one sentence.

"That shit don’t feel good, does it?"

Sevyn’s jaw tightened, her brows pulling together slightly. "What?" she asked, feigning confusion, feigning defense—but she knew exactly what he meant.

Hassan didn’t talk much. So when he did, you had to listen. Because he wasn’t the type of man to repeat himself. And she hadn’t been listening when she pressed him the first time.

Now?

It was her turn to be put under the microscope.

Her hands tightened around her silver clutch, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, feeling the tension in the space between them shift into something else entirely.

Now she needed a drink. It was like he knew. Like he could read her too. Because the second the thought crossed her mind, Hassan turned toward the bartender, his voice smooth, effortless, like he was completely in control of everything happening in this moment.

"Get the lady our best wine."

His words weren’t a suggestion—they were a command. "Red or white?" the bartender asked.

Hassan didn’t look away from Sevyn, didn’t need her to say shit. He wasn’t asking for an answer. He was confirming that he already knew.

"Red."

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