The next time I saw them together, Felicity was looking decidedly uncomfortable in a bright red floor length gown.

Her tablet cradled to her chest, the other hand tightly holding her small clutch, she surveyed the ballroom like a cornered gazelle.

Her eyes suddenly stopped their frantic search of the room and her gaze softened.

I followed her eyeline spotting Oliver making his way towards her balancing a plate of mini sandwiches.

Strange, Oliver knew the rules. The food at these things is purely for decoration. A full mouth made passive aggressive business banter impossible.

Of their own violation my feet had slowly inched my way towards Felicity, stopping close enough to hear their conversation.

"Madame," Oliver greeted her with a grin as he offered her the plate.

"Oh, thank god. I am starving."

Felicity shoved her tablet into Oliver's spare hand and grabbed the plate from him, one of the sandwiches disappearing into her mouth.

Oliver chuckled and Felicity shot him a death glare before swallowing

"Shut up. I had to skip lunch because somebody can't function as an adult without someone there to hold his hand."

Oliver chuckled softly before leaning down and whispering a retort in her ear.

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

Felicity's tablet dinged.

"I'll be back," she told Oliver, quickly snatching the device from Oliver's grasp, leaving him standing there with a plate of half-eaten sandwiches.

As he watched her slip away, I could see the tension grow in Oliver's shoulders, his blank mask slipping back into place.

He quickly shook himself, before turning on his heal and slipping back into the crowd, the picture of the stereotypical playboy billionaire.

As he walked away, there was no trace of the playful softness he had shown with Felicity.

His secretary obviously had some kind of hold over him.