#readerdiva

“Of course, there must be another reason why you’re looking at this arrangement as if it were the world’s greatest riddle.”

Aaron sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I can’t do this again and-”

“And nothing, the past is gone, it’s over.”

Rossi pulled up a chair and sat across from him.

“I’ll give you some advice, Aaron. The past is there to teach us, not to hold us back forever. You lie to yourself—interspersing work with the responsibilities of being a father—saying that you don’t need to move on, or meet new people, but I’ll present you with the facts. Jack will grow up, one day you’ll retire. When this is over, what’s left?”

He fell silent, looking away from Rossi and toward the flowers.

“You don’t want to repeat the same mistakes, I understand. Just the fact that you’re worried means you’ve learned from them.”

He points to the flower arrangement with a half smile.

“I’m not saying you have to get married and have ten kids with your secret admirer. I’m just saying that you should allow yourself to have a conversation that doesn’t involve murderers and school activities.”

Aaron lets out a weak laugh.

“I honestly don’t even remember how to do that.” He runs his hands over his face tiredly.

“I don’t think you need to, there’s someone who’s committed enough for both of you.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not complicated, the problem is you.”

He frowns.

“But you just said-”

“Shut up and text me already.”

Aaron sighs, glancing at his phone.

“It’s been a week, what am I supposed to say?”

“Something like: hi I’m an idiot but thanks for the flowers.”

Aaron raises an eyebrow at the suggestion.

“I’m not going to write that.”

“But you should.”

“Okay, don’t you have to work?”

Rossi chuckled softly, pushing his chair back as he stood up.

“I always have time to tease you. Don’t overthink it, just text me—oh, and don’t forget my chair.” He left the room, closing the door behind him with a slight wave.

Aaron took a deep breath as he stared at his phone on the table, hoping his problems would solve themselves

It wasn’t as easy as Rossi made it sound.

It wasn’t just the fear of getting involved again—although that was a big part of it. The weight of his responsibility as a father and as a boss made any distraction feel like a threat to the fragile balance he was trying to maintain. Jack was his priority, always would be. How would he divide his attention?

What about work?

The work was never ending. He was always processing reports, psychological profiles and strategies to keep the team safe. He couldn’t make any commitments, having to leave everything behind when he had a case. Getting involved with someone would mean opening up space for one more worry, one more possible failure.

Life had hardened him, every loss, every difficult decision, every case that ended tragically.

What could he offer other than worries?

But there was a much bigger question than that that had been circling your thoughts since you gave him your number.

What did you see in him?

What – in twenty minutes of conversation – had been enough to make you want to stay? And, more than that, want to be part of his life – to the point of going to the trouble of finding out his name just to send him flowers?

Maybe it was because you were on high alert and since he helped you your brain only associated him with safety?

Do you have issues with your father?

Or maybe it was a moment when, without realizing it, he relaxed for a second and let out a genuine smile. But would that be enough for someone to want to insist?

He didn't see himself as attractive in the romantic sense. It wasn't that he didn't think he was handsome, but he never believed that his presence inspired anything other than respect—and often, fear.

His rigid posture, the controlled way he spoke, his almost always neutral expression—all of this created a barrier between him and others.

With Haley it was different. They met before the burden of responsibility that this job demanded shaped every aspect of his identity. In college, he smiled more easily, allowed himself moments of lightness—the young man who dreamed, who believed he could balance justice and happiness.

Maybe he wouldn't be able to have a relationship again—at least not now. But Rossi was right, it would be nice to talk to someone whose main agenda wasn't murder and preschool.

Before he could think too much, he picked up his cell phone and typed a message.

Still hesitant.

But not running away.

“Thanks for the flowers, but I have to admit, I’m still wondering how you found me. Should I keep an eye on you or offer you a job on my team?”

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You were exhausted.

Rehearsing in a warehouse since early morning, repeating the choreography until your feet were blistered, making arrangements, training your breathing to hit the notes while dancing.

The last few weeks before the tour are always chaotic, dancers rehearsing without rest, sound and lighting engineers adjusting the last details, the stage structure set up to rehearse the positioning.

Every decision was made by you – from the setlist to the fabric of the dancers' clothes. Not because you didn't trust the team, but because you refused to deliver a show that was inferior to the last. Each tour needed to be bigger, better, more impactful. The pressure came from all sides – but most of all, from yourself.

Everyone is stressed – you are stressed. And you needed to take a break before you start being a bitch.

Sighing, you stop what you're doing, folding your sweatshirt until it looks like a makeshift pillow. As soon as you lay down on the floor you realized two things – the floor was freezing cold and you were more tired than you thought.

“Are you okay?” Chris’s voice broke the silence.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed in response. “I just need a minute of silence, don’t let anyone talk to me, please.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if trying to gauge your mood before continuing – the scale was kill him, fire him or just curse him out.

“Remember the favor you asked to find your mystery guy?”

You frowned and opened your eyes.

“Yeah. What about it?”

“You’re kind of going to have to pay him back today.”

Your body tensed.

“The one who recognized him and gave him the information was an event planner. And he only works with important people – politicians, judges, government agents…” He paused to let you absorb the information before continuing. "Sort of… you're performing at his event tonight."

You whimpered, rubbing your temples as you sat down.

"You're kidding."

"I wish I was."

"What if you put on a wig and go in my place?"

Chris stared at you for a while, analyzing how much truth there was in the joke.

"I don't think it would convince anyone."

You sighed, Chris held out his hand to you - helping you up.

"How many songs?"

"Only three."

You nodded slowly, preparing yourself psychologically for a long night. These events were the worst - petty people who lived in a silent struggle for power, vying for your attention in order to gain support and publicity for their projects.

"I can't believe I'm doing this because of a man, a man who didn't even bother to save my number-" The sentence dies in your throat as soon as you feel your cell phone vibrate. Your gaze fell to the notification on your messaging app – unknown number.

“Thanks for the flowers, but I must admit, I’m still wondering how you found me. Should I keep an eye on you or offer you a job on my team?”

You bit your lip in a – failed – attempt to hide a smile.

“Honestly, your smile scares me a lot more than if you were hitting me.”

“Shut up.”

You quickly thought of a response.

“I’m glad you liked it, honey, but a magician never reveals his tricks. And yes, keep an eye on me, Mr. Hot – both preferably.”

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Justice Department Gala

A yearly – and very boring – event full of formalities, speeches and ego battles. An event that Hotch had completely forgotten about. While the members could decide whether to go or make up an excuse – all of which, without exception, chose the second option – unfortunately, as the team leader his presence was mandatory.

The hall was grand, lit by imposing chandeliers that cast golden reflections on the champagne glasses. Waiters walked discreetly among the guests, offering refined appetizers that Aaron had no interest in tasting. He had already exchanged greetings with politicians, judges and some senior agents, but he was at his limit.

That was when the music started.

Not only the usual violins, now there was a piano and a sound that he thought was a drum. As the soft introduction began, the stage lights dimmed – the floor filling with smoke. He frowned; there was no show on the schedule.

Then the lights focused on the center of the stage, and there you were.

He froze.

Your strong and impotent presence was enough to silence the room. The dress molded perfectly to your body – it was impossible not to pay attention to you, your presence was mesmerizing.

And then you started to sing.

Your voice filled the room, it was a perfect mix of strength and skill, reaching and sustaining high notes with impressive ease. He had already heard some of your songs when he researched you, but nothing compared to hearing you sing live. And for the first time he allowed himself to focus solely on the music – without considering it just as background noise.

“Remember those walls I built? Well, baby, they're tumbling down And they didn't even put up a fight They didn't even make a sound”

This was happening – unconsciously – after all.

The last note echoed through the hall and as the audience applauded, you gave a slight smile – mumbling a thank you – and bowed subtly before leaving the stage. He was in an internal battle, pondering whether or not to talk to you. But you had reached out to him, right? So the least he could do was apologize for not texting you sooner. Without realizing it, he was already heading your way – the unconscious does funny things sometimes.

As he got closer, he could see you – leaning against one of the walls –, talking to a group of men and their wives. Your smile was polite, but your eyes – especially when you looked at the man next to you – said: get me out of here. Aaron recognized you, he was the same one who picked you up at the store that day. Broad shoulders, rigid posture and observant – ex-military maybe. Definitely a bodyguard.

So you’ve come to your senses, he thought.

You nodded slightly, offering a half smile at something one of the wives said when your eyes landed on him. And then you smiled – not the polite, practiced smile you were giving the group. But a genuine smile, the kind that reached your eyes.

His chest tightened – an involuntary reflex he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked so happy to see him, and it affected him – probably more than he would admit out loud. You said goodbye to the group with a polite smile and started walking towards them.

“You know, I’m starting to believe it’s fate.” You tilted your head as you looked at him, your eyes shining with amusement.

He arched an eyebrow, curious.

“What?”

“Oh, you know, saving me from near-death situations.” You paused dramatically and started counting on your fingers. “The first time I almost got trampled to death. And now? I almost died of boredom.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him – something you did easily.

“That’s definitely something that could have happened, I didn’t know you sang at events like that.”

“I don’t sing. But this time I had ulterior motives. Let’s just say it was an exchange, as soon as I got your name.” You laughed at his frown, quickly correcting yourself. “It wasn’t illegal at all, I promise.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, with an expression of disbelief – but the corners of his lips betrayed him with the beginning of a smile.

“Are you saying you negotiated a performance in exchange for information about me?”

You looked away with a thoughtful expression.

“It sounds pretty scary when you say it like that,” you muttered. “Anyway, that’s not relevant.”

He let out a low laugh. Rossi was right.

“I’ll make sure to check your background, although with your schedule, there wouldn’t be time to commit many crimes.”

“How do you know? - Oh my god, you researched me?” A disbelieving smile spread across his face.

He opened his mouth, ready to deny it, but quickly closed it. The pause was telling, he had given himself away.

“Research is too strong a word,” he replied, straightening up, “Let’s just say it was enough to get you informed.”

Liar.

You arched an eyebrow as you crossed your arms.

“Oh, is that what they call it these days?”

He scratched his throat, dismissing it with his hand.

“Anyway, that’s not relevant.”

You stared at him for a second, pretending to let it go before a mischievous smile spread across your lips.

“It’s not relevant? Because I think it’s very relevant, who has to keep an eye on who here?”

“We’re strangers, okay; let’s skip to the next part,” he said – in a failed attempt to maintain his composure. But there was an amused glint in his eyes.

“So you have topics? How many are we talking about, Agent Hotchner?”

Aaron crossed his arms, trying to keep his face impassive – despite the amusement clear in his eyes.

“You’re annoying.”

“I know,” you agreed softly, “But something tells me you like it.”

He looked away for a while, silently organizing his thoughts. Frowning, he returned his gaze to you.

“Of all the things I have to deal with, oddly enough, you’re the least annoying.”

You laughed, crossing your arms in mock offense.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Initial apology.”

Your gaze softened, an amused chuckle escaping your lips.

“You’re terrible at this.”

“I know"

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English is not my first language are sorry for any mistake

If you have any ideas to contribute to the sequel I will be happy to receive them :)