Oliver shut down the communication with his Asian stockholders and leaned back in his chair. It was nearly four in the afternoon. He'd missed the game, which he didn't mind, and still have to go through the audit report, which he minded a lot. The executive floor as the rest of the tower was empty. He'd enjoyed the quiet when he'd escaped the penthouse early this morning, but now loneliness weighted on his mind like a lead glove.
A dip in the Jacuzzi with a single malt, maybe some yoga, and sleep until the holiday was over felt like the perfect cure for his headache. Except going up meant facing Chloe, who was probably busying herself with some Thanksgiving diner. Guilt crept in, his constant companion of the last few days. He didn't want to seat through another meal with her and taste the ashes his behavior spread between them. Color him stupid. Less than seven days ago, he was wondering how to have her with him in the penthouse again. Now she was there, and things were just… awful, because he'd made them so.
His fault. It was his own damned fault. Everything was, from the start. The panic-attacks, the danger she was in due to a stupid diner in his favorite restaurant, her exposure to the Bratva, the drug, what followed… She gave him her trust, time after time, and he broke it every chance he got. Oliver threw his pen across the room. It bounced on the edge of the shelves. The cap snapped and rolled under the sofa. Great. Now he'd have to move the damned thing to get it back.
Oliver pushed to his feet to go and retrieve it. Hopefully he would only have to swipe his hand close to the edge to grab the escapee. The stupid sofa weighted a ton. And it was square and uncomfortable. It killed his back every time he fell asleep on it. He hated that thing. On Monday, he'd tell Mark to get rid of it.
As he crouched, his gaze fell on the photograph of his parents on the side table. It'd been taken during one of the QI's jubilee celebration. His dad held a young Oliver's hand and both sported identical goofy smiles. He couldn't remember now what they had done, but given the way his mother looked at them, it had mischief spelled all over it. She stood immobile for eternity with her head tilted sideways and that exasperated/loving expression only moms mastered. He wished he remembered more. Maybe Barbara knew. She'd been the one behind the camera.
Holding the frame in his hands, Oliver whispered to the fixed image. "What do I do now, Dad? No matter how hard I try, I keep screwing things up."
"Oliver."
He gulped down a curse. Oliver turned to face the woman he both longed and dreaded to see. He averted his eyes as soon as he'd acknowledged her presence in the room. What do you say to the person you've messed around one time too many?
Chloe didn't wait for him to come up with something. "Do you plan to hide here all day? Or are you done with the brooding part of the program?"
He blinked finally looked at her in the eye. Chloe stared back. "Cat got your tongue, Oliver?"
A tempest brewed in her green eyes. She took a step forward. He stood his ground, eyeing her wearily. "What's gotten into you?"
The devilish part of him snickered at his choice of words. This particular demon had been whispering about sex with Chloe for days, about having her under him again for an encore. Several encores. Oliver put the picture back on the table to buy some time and occupy his hands.
"Nothing. I'll leave you be in a minute. But first, I want to know."
"Want to know what."
He forced himself to meet her gaze. Don't come closer. Just stay away so I cannot hurt you further.
"I want to know what I did wrong."
The tumult in her stare gripped him like a hurricane. She held herself still, a foot from him. Her voice was so steady. Only her eyes betrayed the riot inside her. The one in him rose to the challenge. His knees weakened. "You've done nothing wrong." Oliver lowered himself to the sofa before she saw him shaking. "I did."
"When? Because I was there and—"
"I hurt you."
"Flash news Oliver, it is supposed to hurt the first time."
"That's the point, Chloe! It was your first time and I— It should have been special. Not a drug-induced quickie on a dusty carpet."
The slap left a stinging mark on his cheek. He stared while she wrapped her arms around herself, then dropped them by her sides, fists clenched. Chloe lifted her chin up to confront him. Her eyes blazed with fury and pain. "It was special, because it was with you. Sorry if the performance was not up to your standards."
Her lips trembled. It cut him down to his core. Damned it, he could bewitch an entire room with a few words and a smile, why did he keep putting his foot in his mouth with her? He gave up. "Get out."
Chloe set her jaw. "Fine. Have it your way. I'm leaving."
Leaving? Leaving what? Leaving where? His office? Queen Tower? Star City? Leaving him? The door closed before he could stop her. Oliver rushed out of his office. "Chloe, wait!"
He slipped between the closing doors of the elevator just in time.
"Chloe."
She refused to turn to him, her beautiful face curtained by messy blonde curls as she considered the geometric pattern on the carpeted floor. Her shoulders stiffened when he touched her arm. "Sidekick, look at me."
The doors opened in the penthouse. Neither moved out of the car. When she didn't turn, Oliver renounced pushing her to, certain he would crumble if he saw tears rolling down her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her from behind instead. His chin pressed on the top of her head. Her heart beat so fast against his wrist it sent his into a frenzy. Her scent floated around him, orange blossom and almonds. Oliver closed his eyes, mustering the strength to speak.
Slowly, the words came, no louder than a murmur.
"It kills me, Chlo. It kills me to know that rather than making love to you the way I wanted to, I all be forced myself on you. I know a woman's first time is never… Is always… I know that. But I… I should… I should have been able to make it better." He let out a self-loathing chuckle. "A lot of good being experienced did me."
Oliver felt her tense, like a cat about to bolt because it doesn't want to be held. He couldn't let her go, not like that. "The truth is… The truth is… The moment I touched you… I lost it. I just lost my mind. The only thing I could think about was how fast I could have you. I had absolutely no self-control. That fucking drug ruined everything. God, I almost—" His voice broke.
Hers was stronger. "You didn't rape me, Oliver. I said yes, remember?"
He remembered, all too well. How she tasted. How she felt under him, around him. The tiny gasp that escaped her throat right before his restrain exploded. He dreamed about it every night.
Chloe turned in his arms when he shuddered. Her hands slipped under his jacket so she could circle his waist with both arms. "If I had said no, you would have stopped."
In his nightmares, she refused him and he took her anyway. "I… I'm not sure I could have."
Chloe pressed her cheek to his chest. "I'm sure."
Oliver crushed her into him, unable to find his voice just yet.
After an eon or two, Chloe nuzzled his shoulder. He only tightened his grasp.
"Ollie… Air…" she whined.
"Overrated. Ask for something else."
She giggled into his shirt. "Going out of the elevator?"
He wanted to hold her a little longer.
"But it's so nice in here…"
His hands drew circles in her back, brushing the dimples above her hips he could feel under her blouse. The caress was chaste, considering the pull he started feeling below his belt. Oliver eased his grip on her before the twitch turned into something more obvious. Chloe gave his chest an additional little push so their embrace broke. "It's even nicer in the kitchen. Where I need help."
"Bossy."
"You've seen nothing yet, Arrow. Go and get changed so I don't feel underdressed. Then I'm putting you to work."
The smile she offered over her shoulder was so luminous he wondered how he'd survived without it for five days straight.
"Yes Ma'am."
