Close | A Spencer Reid Story

25. Ambush

Y/N's POV

I was so glad to get away from the heat of Dallas. I had basically hibernated inside my brother's house for the entire trip.

But the sweat had carried through to my journey home. I was rushed off my feet from the moment I stepped of the plane. Racing back from work, I had dashed to shower off the fatigue and change before heading out to meet Spencer for dinner.

I was running slightly late as I scurried out of the door, brushing my hair behind my shoulder as I fumbled to find the key to lock my apartment. I had too many keys on my bunch. When you rush everything seems to take so much longer. At last, I finally heard the satisfy click of the lock. I slung the keys in my palms.

I turned around and practically jumped out of my skin as I found a figure towering behind me.

I took an involuntary step back, my back hitting the door.

"Sorry," the figure's stern facial expression morphed into a cheeky grin. "I didn't mean to startle you."

I caught my breath. "Er... no problem." I side-stepped to make my way around him. Without much luck though as he shifted his weight, still blocking my path.

"You smell amazing." The stranger looked me up and down. "The colour suits you."

His compliment seemed genuine if not a little out of place at this current moment. "Erm... thanks. Er... you..." I tried to place him. He seemed as if he was familiar with me. Surely if I backtracked well enough, I would be able to remember. Usually, Spencer would be the one jogging my memory.

I think he caught on. "Ben Kingsley." He extended his hand.

I reached out and took it, gingerly. "Oh right." I replied, recognising his name. I began to introduce myself before he interrupted me.

"Y/n. Yeah, I know." Somehow his handshake was both firm and gentle.

I nodded curiously. But, honestly I just didn't have the time.

"We missed you at the party?" His question distracted me from his appearance. One hand in the pocket of his Guanshina suit. The top button of his crisp white shirt open. His hair tied back in low shaggy bun, contrasting from the rest of his style.

"We?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Me. Well, I was expecting you to show up." He corrected himself. "But you didn't come. Did my communication style offend you?"

"No. Not at all." Once I again I tried to calculate my escape.

"I don't want to keep pestering you. It's just want to wrap up this consignment and you're the only one holding out. I should never have tried to delegate a job to other people when I know I can do it better."

To be honest at this point I was drowning his voice out. I checked my watch again. Every second he spoke was a second I couldn't spare.

"I'm sorry," I frowned. "I have to go."

His smile faded. Obviously, he a had come to some realisation. "Right, of course." He stepped aside, barely giving me enough space. "I just thought that maybe you were avoiding me," he mumbled behind me, as I walked to the elevator.

I stopped in my tracks. "I don't know you. Why would I be avoiding you?" I took in a deep breath as I turned to confront him. "Look, in reality, I'm not interested in selling. I like it. It's convenient for me. Why would I hassle myself and add more paperwork to by mountain of paperwork for no reason." I tapped my foot impatiently.

He wouldn't let up.

"I know you have places 1000% better than this. The property in Belmont. The apartment on Riverside. The house in Brierly. Another apartment in Coalson Park."

How did he even know that?

"There is nothing expectational keeping you here." He went on, smugly. He was impressed by his own omniscience.

"You're wrong," I huffed. I couldn't hide my irritated temper tantrum from peeking through. "As you pointed out, I have other places, yet I choose to stay here. There has to be a reason for that."

He smirked at my reaction. I was making this too exciting for him. "Which is?"

"None of your business," I kept my voiced sweet, but the insult was blatant. I began to saunter down the hallway, creating distance from tis unwarranted attention.

"Does the person you're rushing to see happen to be the reason for that?"

I ignored him but kept moving. His footsteps were close behind me too. "So, I'm right then." He implored. "Shame," he muttered. "I actually find you interesting."

I rolled my eyes and entered the lift that had coincidently opened just as I arrived to it. I stepped inside and turned to face the slowly closing door. I could see Ben, smugly lean against the wall.

"See you around." He pitched it less as a question and more as a fact.

"I hope not," I muttered under my breath.

The encounter had baffled me. The journey to the restaurant was hell. My irritation just seemed to be building for some reason. Why did I care what some random idiot said?