"Follow me if you please, Miss."
Chloe looked away from the water wall ornamenting the lobby to meet the stare of a woman in her early fifties. Her attire of straight legs dark denim and sable cashmere cowl neck tunic exuded expansive casual chic. Compare to that, her own linen ensemble gave out ill-fitting school girl uniform vibes. Chloe wet her lips. "Huh, hello."
"I'm Barbara Hall. This way."
Chloe shook the offered hand then hiked the strap of her laptop bag up her shoulder. The older woman turned toward the corporate elevators. Chloe trailed after her, glad she hadn't brought more than her laptop and the bare necessities with her. Her suitcase was stashed in the empty corridor behind the two locked doors in the basement. She would collect it later or, if anything went wrong, simply abandon it there.
Barbara motioned for her to get inside the car while she pressed the button for one of the top floors. No one looked twice at the petite blonde and her older escort on the way up. People went about their day, some chatting, some typing on tablets or playing with their phones.
When the car emptied between two floors, Barbara Hall turned her head a fraction. "Not a word until we reach my office."
Chloe nodded. Some people came in at their next stop, some exited right away, some rode up a few floors. She started to pace her breathing to control her nerves. The elevator was windowless, with nothing to distract her from the closed space than the swishing sound every time they stopped and the blinking numbers over the doors.
By the time they arrived at their destination, her nails had dung crescent marks in her palms. Trust Oliver. Trust Oliver. Trust Oliver. The mantra spun and spun in her head to make her dizzy.
The door of the office shut down like a heavy clang.
"Good Lord, don't be so nervous! If you are that skittish, taking care of Oliver is going to wreck you down. That boy doesn't understand basic concepts such as "rest" and "limited effort"."
Chloe's mouth twitched. As she relaxed her guard an inch, the name clicked. "You're Oliver's Public Relations Advisor."
"Yes, I am. I am also one of the few who knows that Oliver is very good at misdirection. He has to be. And I have a feeling, Miss "Her nom-de-plume is Dorothy Gale", that you are too."
Chloe sat straighter at the mention "nom-de-plume". What had Oliver said about her? The older woman lifted one finger. Her index pointed up cut down Chloe's knee-jerk reaction on the spot. "I don't like being lied to. It makes my job much more complicated, and I do not accept it on a personal level either. Oliver knows that. But whatever truth is between you, it'll stay there unless you decide to tell me. Or until I decide Oliver needs a wake-up call."
In other words, if I discover you are abusing him in any way, you're dead meat.
Despite herself, Chloe had to smile. In another world, Barbara Hall and herself would have been like two peas in a pod. "I hear you."
"Good. So what should I call you?"
Damned the woman was good. Chloe debated with herself while her heart raced. Trust Oliver. "My birth name is Chloe."
"Chloe. It suits you. Since we understand each other, why don't you tell me a little about your work. You're a free-lancer reporter, right?"
Evidently, the PR advisor had done her homework. "Yes, Mrs. Hall."
Barbara lifted her eyes to the ceilings as if to pray for patience. "They insist on making me feel my age." She narrowed intelligent eyes on Chloe. "It's Barbara. Since we both know you'll get tired of hearing Oliver whine quickly enough, what do you think of a side project, Chloe?"
"What kind of project?"
"Did Oliver mention anything about the Oasis?"
"Huh, no. I heard about it, tough. It targets Education for children in needs."
"It's more than that. Do some research, then nag Oliver about giving you an exclusive about it."
"Oliver Queen never gives exclusives interview."
"Neither do Fraülien Dieter nor Doctor Cecile Adams," Barbara shot back, citing two of Chloe's biggest coups. The famous painter and sculptor lived in Bavaria and was a notorious recluse. The other name had the blonde jumping to the edge of her seat. "How do you know about that?"
"I'm good at my job, Chloe. It includes keeping tabs on the future editorials of magazines susceptible to give Queen Industries good press."
"I—"
The shrill of the phone on the desk interrupted Chloe's protest. Barbara rose to pick up. She listened to whatever her caller had to say then nodded. "Good, she'll be on her way." She addressed Chloe once more, undeterred but the petite blonde flabbergast expression.
"Oliver's waiting for you upstairs."
If her strange conversation with Barbara left her reeling, it was nothing compared to the sudden shock of stepping into the elegant penthouse in the afternoon glow. Windows and skylights she hadn't noticed the night before illuminated the space. The wood panels gleamed with warmth. And in the middle of all this light stood Oliver, dressed in jeans and a white tee-shirt, "Hi."
"Hi…" Chloe whispered, all too conscious of the awe warming her face. His eyes seemed to drink her in, dark and welcoming. The more he stared, the more her stomach did embarrassing flip-flops. "Come on, I'll give you a tour."
"Huh… Sure… Wait! I need to collect my things, I left them—"
"In the basement. Already did."
Chloe jolted in surprise. "How did you—?"
Oliver shrugged, pointed at the bar. "Cameras."
"Oh."
"So, living room, kitchen, guest room, guest room, master bedroom, another guest room, gym, office—remind me to give you access to the Wi-Fi— and the terrace."
"Wow."
Stepping outside was like entering another world made of comfort, clouds and space. Cozy furniture, again in a symphony of cream and wood, circled some kind of fire pit. In one corner, protected by convolute woodwork, the very large Jacuzzi looked wide enough to swim in it. But it was the sky that took her breath away. The sun was beginning to set, hinting at those amazing oranges and violets he'd photographed for her only days before. She pirouetted in the light.
"Oliver, this is incredible!"
"You can lounge here all you want. The pergola and terrace are shaped so that you can't be seen from the outside. Unless they use a drone. If paparazzi become that inventive, they deserve their money shots. Beside those things make noise, so we'll hear them coming."
The mention of paparazzi sobered her up. "I'll be careful."
For herself, and for him, Chloe promised herself.
Oliver's eyes danced with humor. "I'm kidding. They're yet to try that one. I'm famished. How do you feel about Thaï?"
"I can cook."
"Not tonight. Do you want to change while I order something to eat? What do you like?"
"Beef Pad See Ew?"
"Rice noodles stir fried in soy sauce. Good choice. Make yourself at home."
She watched him retreated inside. His movements were a little stiffer than usual. Chloe shook her head, laughing at herself. When did her "usual" started including Oliver Queen swaggering around her? Tess would have a field day with that one, if she ever learned Chloe was not away to house-sit in Coast City, but playing house with Starling Royalty. She'd weaved yet another web of lies around herself, deceived one of her only friends.
The sunset painted the sky in bloody red. Chloe headed inside.
