Monday mornings were rather low on his favorite things list. He had had his fair share of shitty ones over the years. But to discover Chloe was gone before he could even talk to her, without yoga to start his day because his back hurt and with less than two hours of sleep under his belt probably topped them all. He was a patient man. Yoga required patience. Archery required patience. Doing business the right way required patience. Oliver slammed the door of his office. Why did she have to be so unreasonable?

"I am not asking for the moon, damned it! Just that she stays put for a few more hours until I can figure out—"

A knock on the door stopped his rant short. Oliver stopped pacing and snarled. "What!"

The door spread by inches and Mark's head appeared. "Sorry, Sir, I—"

"You know, it's really time you start calling me Oliver."

"Huh…"

"I'm twenty-eight, so I am what, two, three years older than you?"

"Actually, you're four years younger."

Oliver stopped pacing. His EA was smiling— no smirking— at him. He huffed. "Fine. Stop calling me Sir, then. It annoys the crap out of me."

"Sure. As you wish. Oliver."

Dang. He wanted to bang his head on his desk. It would give him a migraine to go with the back pain, but it seemed like an appropriate response to the situation. Mark continued looking at him as if he was some kind of amusing specimen he'd never seen before. Oliver inhaled to reign in his temper. "Good. So you were saying?"

"I have the Danes on the line. They're saying they didn't receive the contract."

It was going to be a l-o-n-g day. "Bloody Jesus Christ. What is it, mess with Oliver Day? Patch them through. Then call the legal department and lit a fire under them. Then get me Luthor on the phone."

"Which Luthor? Lex or Lena."

The man was definitely mocking him. Oliver glowered at him. "Lex."

"Sure thing. Boss."

Oliver snarled.

Moments later, the blonde wondered why he didn't lose his temper more often. Apparently, ten minutes of snapping achieved more than ten months of patience. The legal department had apologized for misplacing the document, the import/export contract was signed and en route to be registered. And, his lawyers had confirmed that the Council had agreed to discuss Queen Industries' plans for the beachfront at their next meeting.

"Oliver? I have Lex Luthor on the line for you."

"Thanks."

The mood lift from his previous success went down the drain as soon as he picked up the phone. "What the hell were you thinking, Lex?!"

"Oliver. You sound on edge. Rough morning?"

"Cut the crap. You used a sixteen-years-old to lock your father up then you sent her on her way by herself? I knew you could be ruthless but I didn't expect you to be a sadist, too!"

"So I guess you finally found Dorothy Gale."

"I found Chloe. Or she found me. It doesn't matter. She's in a bad shape, Lex. She's traumatized. Her anxiety goes through the roof every time something unexpected happens. She barely sleeps."

"She told me she would be okay."

"And you believed her? She lied. Chloe said you were her friend. What kind of friend doesn't realize the other is lying?"

"Look, Oliver, I care about Chloe. I really do. But if you've met her, you know how she is. She wouldn't let me help. I didn't push her to investigate Veritas, or Lionel. If I had known beforehand, trust me I would have put a stop to it. But she ferreted it all out before anyone suspected anything. Then she grabbed me by the ear and gave me my marching orders. When the shit hit the fan, the only thing she allowed me to do was to get her a secured laptop and 200,000$."

"And that's it? It didn't take much to convince you to let it go."

"Do I need to remind you my father bought his way out of prison then arranged for a FBI safe house to blow up? If Lionel ever founds out I know where Chloe is, we're both dead. I am more useful being his lapdog. Chloe is resourceful. She told me she would be fine, and yes, I took her word for it."

"Well you shouldn't have. She's not fine, Lex. She's not fine at all."

The younger Luthor paused on the line. His silence quietened the angry bees swarming in Oliver's blood. He eased the deadly grip he had on the phone. "You know her better than I do. What do you suggest?"

"Push."

That was the last piece of advice he expected from the man. Oliver's eyed narrowed on the bouncing bubbles of his screen saver. "Push."

"Yes. I agreed to her plan four years ago. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe not. I am sorry to hear she's suffering. Despite what you think, Oliver, Chloe is my friend. She was there for me when I needed her. She's headstrong and too curious for her own good, but her heart is in the right place. If she trusts you, consider yourself lucky. She doesn't give her trust or her friendship easily. So use it and help her."

"Funnily, I thought reverse psychology was more your style."

"What makes you think that's not what I am doing? You tend to do exactly the opposite of what I suggest most of the time."

"I would tell you to go to Hell, but you've been walking through it all your life."

"It's always a pleasure talking to you. Oh and Oliver."

"What."

"She's not twenty-one yet. I don't think your reputation can take that kind of blow right now."

Lex cut the communication before Oliver found a suitable answer. Somehow, "Fuck off" didn't really start to cover it.

Emil came by right after lunch. He left Oliver less than one hour later with painkillers and strict orders to stay put—no building climbing or fighting of any sort, I mean it, Oliver— for at least a couple of weeks.

At three o'clock, Oliver found himself on his couch staring at his personal phone again.

"She wants nothing to do with you, Queen. Take a hint and move on."

He dropped the phone next to him, rubbed a hand over his face while he watched the contraption bounce on the fluffy cushion. A giant marshmallow. A phantom of her giggle echoed in the empty apartment. "Damned it."

Oliver snatched the phone back. Almost to drop it again when it rang. "Chloe."

"I'm sorry I ran."

His shoulders sagged in relief. "Why did you, then?"

"Pride? Fear? I've been on my own for so long, it's hard… It's hard to rely on someone else."

With her baggage, accepting help from a virtual stranger had to be scary as hell. He understood that, deep down. The sting embittered the words nonetheless. "You mean you don't trust me."

"I do trust you. Isn't it strange? I don't even know you, not really…" She trailed off, as if she was debating what to say next.

"Will I see you again?"

Oliver let the question sink in, holding his breath. The next move had to be hers. He wanted to protect her, but she had to allow him to help.

"I don't know."

She hadn't said no. His lungs welcome air back in. His chest swelled to the point the bandage Emil had wrapped around his midsection felt even tighter. Bandage… His eyes snapped open. "How are your nursing skills?"

"What?"

He pictured her, eyes wide, that delicious mouth agape, until a suspicious frown wriggled her nose. "I've been put on bed rest. Well, not bed rest exactly, the doc just forbad me to do anything strenuous for a couple of weeks. But I can play it up." It wouldn't be so hard, considering how his lower back throbbed now that the painkillers were wearing off. "I'll hire you as a home nurse. You can stay here at the penthouse for a couple of days, no one will ask any questions."

The more he thought about it, the more he liked that plan. There would be questions, but easily thwarted if they were discreet and he got Barbara on board.

"You're crazy."

"I need to know you're safe."

Oliver swore aside. Fortunately, she let the comment slide. "Do you make a habit of picking up strays, Mr. Queen?"

"Only the cute ones."

She answered the flirt with a chuckle. Oliver pushed his advantage, "When can I expect you?"

The next pause lasted long enough to make he feared she was going to refuse his offer after all.

"Tomorrow?"

He pumped a fist mentally. "How about today? Come to Queen Tower and register at the security desk. I'll have someone bring you up. You'll hide in plain sight this time."

Oliver heard the nervous gulp before her voice stumbled. "All right."

"Excellent. I'll see you in a few hours then."

"I… Yes. All right. I'll be there."

He cut off the call before he allowed a goofy smile to spread. All things considered, he had had worse Mondays than this one.