ESCORT / spencer reid.

ten

    IVORY ARDEN stared at her reflection
for the umpteenth time tonight, fixing her brunette curls and adjusting her tightly-fitted black cocktail dress which hung onto every one of her curves. She shivered and realized the cold air nipping at her bare arms and shoulders, deciding to slip on a fitted long sleeve underneath the spaghetti-strapped dress.

But then, she changed her mind again—her client was a man named Jason Gideon, and from her little background check, he was a former FBI agent. He didn't have any current wives, and one kid that was well off on his own.

To her, Jason Gideon didn't seem like the type to seek out escorts, so she wanted to please the man. Escorting was like a game to her—a way to reassure her value in the world.

And so Ivory fixed herself one last time, exiting her home as she felt the cold air hit her bare shoulders and arms. She didn't react—to her, the cold was something she had gotten used to. In fact, it was somewhat comforting at this point; provided her with a faster heartbeat and a more thrilling effect.

Her heels clicked on the hotel lobby's marble floors as she walked to the front desk, stopping by to see if Jason had checked in yet. He hadn't, so Ivory settled on a couch in the main lobby by the front doors, awaiting the face that she had already studied and would recognize.

She let out a small sigh, looking down to her fingers covered with random jewelry—two of them being her mother and father's wedding bands; Ivory had asked to keep them when they had passed. It was a reminder to her that love was sometimes deadly, even if the two found peace in the other—because her mother and father did. They loved each other more than anything else, and Ivory wished for nothing more than a relationship like that.

But when they died, her mindset was easily changed.

Ivory's head snapped up, hearing the doors slide open. Her heart stopped dead in her chest, her breath being caught completely in her throat as she recognized the man walking inside—her instincts telling her that that wasn't a coincidence.

"What the hell?" She muttered to herself, standing up slowly as Spencer Reid's large eyes caught onto hers, the man immediately making his way to her with purpose.

The woman felt her head spin, rationale suddenly being thrown out the window when her eyes landed on him. He looked so dashing. The man came in wearing a nicer suit than the ones she had seen him in at work, enunciating his slender and tall figure. His curly brown locks were tousled messily and beautifully to frame his forehead perfectly; it was a sight Ivory couldn't take her eyes off of. Spencer simply looked too attractive, enough to make her forget why she had been rigorously avoiding him.

But then, reality settled in and Ivory narrowed her eyes at him as he stepped closer, the two standing face to face now. Spencer wore a serious expression, almost a little blank that scared her a little. She liked to see the man with a smile more than an thing else—hell, she wanted nothing more than to see him smile right now. That would be absolutely perfect.

Ivory gulped hard, her groomed eyebrows dipping with slight anger and confusion. "You're Jason Gideon, aren't you?"

Spencer nodded, his eyes swimming with compassion. "I'm sorry."

"What are you doing? Booking an appointment with me under some random man's name? That's illegal—"

"He's dead, Ivory." Spencer said solemnly. "Gideon was on my team. He died two years ago."

"That doesn't make it any better—!"

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Spencer told her, his voice surprising firm. "I just...needed to make sure you were okay. Because you wouldn't answer my calls, or your door—I thought you were dead, for godsakes. Can you blame me?" He asked her, voice tinged with hurt and slight aggression.