Use Me, Sir. || Aaron Hotchner x Reader

|12| An Undesired Request

"I don't hate people, I just feel better when they aren't not around."
- Charles Bukowski

   The weekend had gone by in a blur. Friday was, well, Friday. But Saturday and Sunday had been relatively less eventful. I spent my weekend cleaning the house for the first time not with the intent to have people over, but simply for my own pleasure. I went to the store for a much needed restock on groceries, replaced the linens with fresh sheets in each bedroom, cleaned the patio tables, scrubbed every sink and shower I had. You name it, I did it.

   I had always been a rather clean person, but the way these cases have piled up recently I haven't gotten time to do the little tasks. Not to gloat, but I was quite wealthy which partially made the job more difficult. I didn't ever really have people over except for the girls and my sister, simply because I didn't want anyone to think I was some stuck-up rich kid with daddy's money.

My house was significantly large, at least for someone who lives alone with their two dogs. It had five bedrooms, four of them being guests while the remaining one was the master, or in other words, my room. My house had three full bathrooms, not including the two bedrooms that had their own. It sat on around five-thousand square feet, so I believe the rest is self-explanatory on how difficult it is to clean all by yourself.

Part of my wealth was from a bit of money I inherited from my grandmother's passing, but the rest was from my previous work as managing partner for a law firm I used to work for.

Regardless of the pay the job was excruciatingly exhausting. I remember waking up every morning dreading what I did. My father had arranged for me to be in law. I never really wanted to go down that route, but I would do anything to make him "proud"of me.

It's not like the cleaning was upsetting, however. If anything it took my mind off things and by things I mean Hotch. I'm not allowed to feel anything for him. I don't. At least I think I don't. But still, he has this unbearable ability to creep his way into my head without doing anything. Even when he's not in my presence.

   I hate him. I keep telling myself. My head believes it, but my heart...my heart. Never mind.

The main thing that continues to annoy my brain are the words he told me about my father. "Is it because your 'daddy' wasn't around to teach his daughter how to respect her superiors? So much so you have to throw yourself at every man you meet without hesitating to spread your legs?" If my heart were a rose petal, everytime I heard those dangerous words in my head a petal would be falling off.

I had never told the team anything about my father. He was too much of a sore topic for me, I didn't want to seem weak or unworthy of my job based on how easy my emotions get to me.

My father, Damiano Y/L/N, was strictly a man of power. Persuasive, domineering, and high maintenance, my father was never someone to be around when he didn't need to be. He spent his days drowned at work leading Ashley and I to only see him at dinner which he would quickly disappear from to go to whichever bar or club he'd choose each night.  He fed off his work, his success, and his children's future. My sister Ashley and I had almost our entire lives set up by him.

We were to become wealthy women of law and doctorates. Ashley, with her charm and intelligence, was to become a neurosurgeon accompanied by a significantly wealthier husband, preferably of Italian or Russian origin. Her family could consist of one or two kids, preferably boys "because they make better billionaires." my father always said. She was allowed pets, but as long as the weren't cats, reptiles, or god forsaken fish. Pathetic, he'd say.

She was to go to only the top ivy league of Harvard followed by whichever medical school she chose just as long as it followed his expectations. He didn't care where in the world she lived as long as she wasn't caught dead under "poor soil". Never was she allowed to stop working, but she also wasn't allowed to be the breadwinner of the relationship. "Women are to be the second richest. They should never be considered wealthier than their husbands as it shows their un-ladylike desperation for power." The words so familiar but still so scrutinizing.