Hi, guys! I know it's been a while between updates, and thank you for being so patient. Although I'm fully committed to this story, my writing time has been more limited as of late as I balance real-life work and multiple fics. But a huge thank you for hanging in there and for leaving reviews. I appreciate the feedback and your continued enthusiasm! Lots happening in this chapter and some pretty huge developments. Happy reading, and please let me know what you think!
Chapter 19: The Date
After slipping on her heels, Felicity stood from the bed and walked over to the dresser to pick out her jewelry for the evening. She still couldn't believe that not only were she and Oliver in Starling City, but that they were also going on a date. They'd had date nights in Nanda Parbat, but this one felt completely different. They wouldn't be in a compound filled with servants waiting on them hand and foot or assassins watching their every move. This was the real world, which meant tonight she and Oliver would be in a normal restaurant surrounded by ordinary people. No one would care who or what they were. For once, she and her husband could be free.
Felicity took one last glance in the mirror to check her outfit. She shifted from foot to foot as the nervous knots battled the excited butterflies in her stomach. She hoped their date went well. So much of her heart and mind were riding on tonight—not that she could tell Oliver that now. Felicity worried that telling him her fear of their relationship not working outside of Nanda Parbat would hurt his feelings or put unnecessary pressure on him. She wanted Oliver to be himself—no matter who that was here.
The door downstairs opened, and Oliver called out to her. She'd kicked him out of the apartment hours ago—sending him to spend time with Tommy—so she could get ready. Sara had offered to help her, but Felicity assured her she had it handled. It was a relief to dress herself and do her own makeup. Not that she didn't appreciate what her servants did for her back in Nanda Parbat, but she'd always been independent. Having people wait on her so often made her feel like a spoiled diva most of the time.
"Shamsi," Oliver called again. "Are you almost ready? You said the reservation is for seven, and we don't want to get caught in traffic and be late—wherever it is we're going."
"I'm coming." She reached for her small purse and mumbled to her reflection, "You got this."
Taking a deep, calming breath, Felicity went to join Oliver. The moment she came into view at the top of the stairs, she felt his eyes on her. His burning, intense gaze followed her the entire way down. Felicity was grateful for the railing, because she most definitely would've lost her balance if she didn't have it to grip. Her legs felt like jelly even as her cheeks flamed.
Oliver wore a dark gray suit with a sky-blue tie that matched his brilliant bright eyes. The suit accentuated the broadness of his shoulders and the strong, natural grace of his posture. Even his scruff, which he'd trimmed, looked sexier and more sophisticated.
Felicity swallowed hard. How the hell did he manage to look even more handsome than he already was? And how the hell was she going to sit across from him at dinner and try to carry a normal conversation without fantasizing about jumping his bones? Hell, would they even be able to make it out of the loft in one piece? Her husband already wanted to devour her if the dark, voracious look in his eyes was any indication.
Oliver met her at the bottom of the stairs, and they silently stared at each other. He examined her top to bottom, openly taking in her bare shoulders, low neckline, and the triangular cut-out just beneath her breasts baring part of her torso. He lingered on her legs before looking back up and honing in on herpink lips.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hi." His voice was just as low and thick. "You look…" Another quick glance. "Gorgeous."
"You really think so?" She couldn't help fidgeting. "I wasn't sure if it was too much. Because in Nanda Parbat I usually have to be covered. But here it's fine. I mean, I hope it's fine," she babbled. "It should be fine, but I don't want to push it if—"
"Felicity," he interrupted before silencing her with an ardent kiss. He buried a hand in her blond curls while the other slid around her waist. As soon as his hand made contact with her bare skin—only a few thin strips of fabric ran along her mostly exposed back—he groaned.
Without thinking, she gripped his tie to pull him closer. Felicity thought she heard her purse drop to the floor but couldn't be sure—nor did she care. Oliver's tongue slipping between her lips, coaxing her mouth to open for him as he deepened the kiss prevented any coherent thought.
Felicity didn't know how long they stood there kissing and caressing each other, but at some point the little—annoying—voice in the back of her mind began to shout about date night and missed dinner reservations. Reluctantly, Felicity broke the kiss and attempted to fill her lungs with the necessary oxygen to give Oliver the same reminder.
He touched his forehead to hers. "In case you couldn't tell, I love the dress."
"Thank you. I love the tie." She gave it a flirtatious tug and then straightened it.
"Thank you."
"As much as I would love to stand here and kiss you all night, we should probably get going before they give our table away."
Oliver bent down to pick up her purse. After placing it on her shoulder, he held out his arm. "Shall we?"
Felicity looped her arm through his, and they made their way out of the loft. He locked the door behind them with his free hand. Thankfully, the elevator ride down wasn't crowded and they quickly made it to the lobby. Felicity barely took a step toward the main door before Oliver tugged her back.
"This way," he instructed.
"If we want to get a cab, we have to go out that way."
"We don't need a cab. We'll take one of the rental cars."
Felicity totally expected for Oliver to lead her to one of the giant black SUVs he and his small legion of assassins had been riding around in at night. Her mouth nearly fell open when, instead, they stopped in front of a silver Porsche.
"This is your rental car."
"Our rental car," he emphasized and opened the door for her.
Felicity, still a little stunned by the shiny and sleek machine before her, hesitated. "Actually, maybe I should drive since I know where we're going."
"Do you know how to drive a stick?"
"Not really," she admitted.
Oliver nudged her into the passenger's seat. "You can give me the directions, and I'll drive."
"Okay," she relented.
Maybe it was silly to be bummed about riding in a plush Porsche, but Felicity wanted to be in charge tonight. Letting Oliver drive kind of felt like she was giving up some control, which was probably a silly reaction. Her husband did have a point; he couldn't drive them to their destination without her guidance.
When he got in and started to lower the top down, Felicity relaxed. It was a warm, beautiful evening for a drive. The Porsche would allow for a much more spectacular view of the city than if they rode in a stuffy, enclosed cab.
"Where to, shamsi?" he inquired.
Felicity gave him the first set of directions, intent on not spoiling the surprise until they arrived. Along the way she pointed out some of her favorite spots and shared random fun facts she'd learned about the city. Oliver listened intently, occasionally smiling at her obvious enthusiasm as he expertly worked the car's stick shift.
Felicity was thankful for the cool breeze as they drove, because she had to admit watching Oliver's skilled hand shifting gears was a turn on. The way he maneuvered the stick reminded her of the time his hand had been buried underneath her dress on her birthday not long ago. He'd driven her pleasure that night, urging her on faster and faster until she came apart in his arms. Feeling a blush coming on, she looked away before the memory took over completely—although she couldn't help absently playing with the sunflower necklace that hung around her neck.
"Are we getting close?" Oliver eventually asked, reclaiming her attention.
"Almost there," Felicity assured him.
Within minutes they were approaching one of the tallest skyscrapers in the heart of the city. At the very top was the most expensive restaurant. The walls of BLU, as she explained to Oliver, were made entirely of glass, and the restaurant rotated to give diners a perfect panoramic view of the city. There was already a line of cars to get to the front entrance.
"Have you ever been here?" she asked Oliver, although she already knew the answer.
Oliver shook his head. "No."
"It has the best seafood in the city—which, no offense, Nanda Parbat is seriously lacking being in a desert and all. The nightlife is supposed to be good, too. There's a bar and dance floor on the level below the restaurant. That area is entirely open."
"So no rotation necessary," he commented.
"No. You can just walk around and pick a spot to sit. They have live bands playing on weeknights." She added, "It was on my bucket list of things to do in the city."
"Then I'm glad I get to share it with you."
She grinned, excited that Oliver seemed just as eager. They waited a few more minutes before finally pulling up to the front entrance. The two young valet attendants glanced at each other and then scrambled toward the car. It didn't take Felicity's genius IQ to figure out that they believed getting to park the flashy Porsche would mean its driver gave larger tips. The taller of the two young men reached them first. She suspected his much longer legs gave him an edge over his coworker, who was now sulking.
"Good evening," the taller attendant greeted them. "Would you like me to park your car, sir?" He already had Felicity's door open and offered his hand to help her out.
"That would be great. Thank you," she said with a smile.
Oliver was out of the car and by her side in a flash. She didn't miss the way he drew her possessively into his side. The young attendant barely had time to catch the keys Oliver tossed his way. Felicity pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. Instead, she wrapped her arm around his waist and they walked into the building. The wait for the elevator was another few minutes, since the main lobby seemed to be bustling with people at this time of night.
They were the last people on and ended up in front of the doors. Felicity let Oliver place her directly in front of him to avoid her being squished by the small crowd inside. Only a few people got off for the first stop. The rest, apparently, were also headed toward the restaurant. Felicity felt her ears pop a few times from the change in altitude as they neared the top. Taking Oliver's hand, Felicity bolted off the elevator as soon as the doors opened. She figured the check-in would also require a short wait and didn't want the group they'd rode with to get in front of them.
As expected, the area around the hostess's desk was already fairly crowded. A couple of times as they stood in line, she felt Oliver's grip on her tighten. Noticing Felicity's crinkled brow, he managed to release some of the tension in his clenched jaw and give her a handsome grin. When Felicity realized why he was having such a reaction—the epiphany brought on by a guy who winked at her on his way out—she nearly busted out laughing.
Although the sexy dress she'd picked out was meant to appeal to her husband, that didn't mean the other men around them weren't taking notice. Oliver had never denied that he had a jealous side, and it showed with some of the male attention being directed her way. No man in Nanda Parbat would dare to look at her in such a manner—not if he wanted to keep his eyes. But in Starling City, where no one knew who Al Sah-him was or what he was capable of, there'd be nothing wrong with another man admiring her and trying to flirt a little.
The corner of Felicity's mouth twitched. It was truly a different world for them. Slipping her hand underneath his jacket, she rubbed calming circles into Oliver's chest. He seemed more at ease by the time they reached the hostess.
The tall woman had a fair complexion that contrasted her long brown hair. "Name?" she questioned without looking up.
"Smoak, party of two," Felicity replied.
The woman—her name tag read "Helena"—searched the computer. "Ms. Smoak, your reservation is for seven but we're a bit busier than usual tonight. It'll probably be another fifteen to twenty minutes before—"
Felicity had anticipated that their reservation might be pushed back. She'd read the reviews online that said higher-end clientele usually got priority, and she'd prepared for such a situation. Reaching into her purse, Felicity pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and slid it across the desk. That finally got the hostess's attention.
"Are you sure it'll be that long?" Felicity innocently inquired.
Helena quickly pocketed the money and smiled. "Ms. Smoak, I believe you reserved a table with a window seat."
She smiled brightly. "Yes, I did."
The brunette's gaze shifted to Oliver. She gave him the once-over, her attraction to him obvious in the little quirk of her lips. "Right this way."
Not wanting to blow their chances of getting a good table, Felicity tried not to show her annoyance at another woman ogling her husband. Helena led them through the crowded restaurant. The lighting overhead was dim enough to see where they were going but not so bright it overpowered the view from the windows. Right then, their table faced the calm waters of the Starling City Bay in the distance. Lights from the boats anchored there glowed like beacons in the darkening sky.
Helena placed their menus on the table. "Enjoy."
"Thank you," Felicity said, again ignoring the way the hostess eyed Oliver like he was one of the entrees. She reflexively huffed while taking her seat.
"You okay?" Oliver asked.
"I'm fine." He smirked. "What?"
"Nothing," he dismissed, though his expression still bore some amusement. "That was a pretty smooth move bribing the hostess. I have to admit I was surprised."
"I've always wanted to do that. Plus, I did my homework on this place. Throwing a little extra green around goes a long way."
"We did get the best seat in the house. This view is almost as beautiful as you." The low overhead lighting and soft glow of the candle on their table made Oliver's eyes smolder even more.
Felicity blushed just as their waiter, an older man with a mustache, approached and introduced himself. After going through the specials, he took their drink orders and asked if they'd like a bottle of wine.
"Which one do you want to try?" her husband inquired.
"Surprise me," Felicity said. "You choose."
He perused the wine list and settled on an expensive Malbec. The waiter assured he'd be back soon with their drinks.
Oliver picked up the dinner menu. "Since you did your research, any idea of what's good to order?"
"The surf n' turf I heard is good. So is the filet mignon and seafood pasta Alfredo." She rubbed her grumbling stomach. "I'm starving."
"No special lunch with Sara today?"
Felicity shook her head. "I wanted to save my appetite for tonight."
"Me, too." There was that suggestive smolder again.
"Oliver, are you expecting to get lucky at the end of this date?" Felicity teased. "Because I'll have you know that I am a very respectable woman, and it'll take more than those dimples and that roguish charm to sweep me off my feet." Maintaining her innocent expression, she slowly slid her foot against his ankle and up his calf. Thankfully, the tablecloth's length prevented any wandering eyes from seeing her mischievous action.
In one quick, precise move, Oliver caught her foot. "I know exactly how to tickle your fancy, shamsi."
Felicity wriggled and suppressed a laugh when he tickled the arch of her foot. His hand slid up higher to engulf her ankle. His warm fingers felt scintillating against her sensitive skin. But before he could make another impish remark, their waiter arrived with their waters, wine, and a basket of garlic sticks. Oliver reluctantly let her go, and Felicity pretended she wasn't blushing like a teenager caught misbehaving.
If the waiter thought something was amiss, he didn't show it. He proceeded to open the bottle and pour a small sip for Oliver to try first. Her husband handed her the glass to taste test. Felicity eagerly took the sip and nodded her approval. The man then poured them their full glasses.
"Do you know what you'd like to order yet?" he questioned.
Oliver went with her first suggestion, which was the surf n' turf. Felicity chose the baked salmon and risotto. Once they were alone, they raised their wine glasses for a toast.
"To our first official date," she declared.
"The first of many," he added and clinked their glasses.
"Oh my God, this garlic bread is delicious. You have to try it." Felicity nearly moaned in between bites.
Oliver took the piece she offered him. "It is good."
"This could be dangerous." Felicity took another sip of wine and set the bread aside before she got too full to eat dinner.
She shifted to look out the window at the city. The buildings glowed brightly in the darkness. The restaurant moved slowly, so they'd have enough time to take in the sights. At some point, Oliver took her hand. The silence that fell between them might've felt awkward to another couple, but Felicity was filled with an incredible sense of calm. She loved being back in her city with Oliver by her side. She completely forgot about arranged marriages, kidnappings, and assassins. She was simply a normal wife enjoying a normal night out with her husband.
That is until the Merlyn Global Group building came into view. Felicity tensed at the sight of it. Instinctively, she squeezed Oliver's hand.
"I guess I forgot what getting an entire view of the city might entail. Sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
"Because tonight is supposed to be about us, and I wasn't planning on having any unpleasant reminders of your true mission here."
"Felicity," he softly replied, "it's fine. It'll take more than a sign to ruin our evening."
"Don't jinx it," she warned in a whisper.
"Nyssa and Sara have it handled." He brought her hand to his lips. "All is well."
She offered him a placated smile and glanced back out the window. Another building caught her eye, and she changed the subject. "There's Queen Consolidated. I told you I was going to interview for a job there, right?"
Oliver's hand tightened this time, and he was quiet as his eyes remained riveted on the glowing QC sign.
"Oliver, are you okay?" Felicity questioned.
As if he'd been broken out of a spell, Oliver shook his head and cleared his throat. "I'm fine, shamsi."
She frowned, not quite believing him. There was an uncertainty to his usually confident voice that gave her pause. "You sure?"
"Looks like there's a baseball game going on at the stadium," he pointed out.
Felicity was aware that Oliver didn't answer her question and had totally changed the subject, but she let it slide. She didn't want to push him or make an issue out of what was most likely nothing. Tonight was about being together and having fun.
She replied, "Do you like baseball? We could take in a game while we're in town."
He reminded her, "You don't like sports."
"But I'd gladly make an exception for you." She joked, "I have a feeling you'd look really hot in a baseball cap and jersey."
Oliver chuckled and played with her fingers. "Thank you for the offer, but I don't need to see a game. Although, the cap and jersey can be arranged." He winked at her.
Felicity giggled, and they chatted some more before their food arrived. Oliver, the gentleman that he was, even let her take the first bite of his lobster when she commented on how good it smelled. Felicity also let him have a few bites out of her dish. The portions weren't exactly huge, but the food was rich. She enjoyed every last morsel.
When the waiter asked if they'd like dessert, they each ordered a different kind that they could share. Felicity let out a low mewl when she tasted the delicious Death By Chocolate Cake. Oliver's turtle cheesecake was also amazing. She wiped away a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth and licked her finger clean.
Oliver's eyes darkened with that simple gesture. "So, Ms. Smoak, what would you like to do next?"
Felicity didn't think she'd ever heard Oliver use her last name, especially in such a sultry tone. It was hot, though one detail did stand out. "I'm not exactly a 'Ms.' anymore."
"I could call you Mrs. al Ghul, but I figured—"
She shot that down quick. "No, definitely not."
"I thought so."
"What—" She hesitated, considering whether to mention it. Finally, she asked, "What was your last name before you became Al Sah-him?"
His fingers rubbed together on the table. "Now's probably not the best time to talk about it."
Another subtle dodge. Felicity felt deflated that Oliver couldn't open up further about his past, since he'd always seemed so honest with her before. But maybe it was simply too painful for him. So she let it go once again.
Wanting to lighten the mood, Felicity suggested that they go to the floor below to sit outside and listen to the band. She paid the check, insisting that tonight was her treat—not that it mattered considering she was using the credit card Oliver had given her, but it was the thought that counted in this instance.
Unlike the restaurant, the bar and dance area was less formal. People shuffled between the somewhat covered dance floor and the seats that surrounded it. Felicity managed to snag a couch outside for them facing the bay. It was a bit farther removed and more secluded, but they could still hear the music in the background. The couch was comfy and allowed Felicity to perfectly snuggle into Oliver's side. A waitress arrived within minutes to take their drink order. This time they ordered only a glass of wine each rather than the whole bottle.
As soon as the waitress left, Oliver leaned in to kiss her. "This is much better," he murmured.
Felicity hummed approvingly against his lips and eagerly kissed him back. "Did you enjoy dinner?"
"Yes, but I prefer dessert."
"The cakes were good, weren't they?"
"They were." He smirked and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. "But I love the taste of chocolate on your lips more."
She giggled softly and offered her lips up for him to taste again. It wasn't until their waitress cleared her throat that they remembered where they were. Felicity probably should've felt embarrassed that they were displaying so much PDA, but she was hardly contrite. They always had to be so reserved in Nanda Parbat that it was freeing to be able to kiss as much as they wanted without worrying about propriety.
Oliver seemed freer, too. Although Felicity could tell that he was still slightly on his guard—always having to be aware of his surroundings was ingrained in him as a warrior—he was much more laidback. He relaxed his muscles and sunk into the couch, with his heart beating steadily under her palm.
"I have something to show you," she declared and reached for her purse. Felicity pulled out a small stack of photos. "Sara took me to my apartment today."
"You mean the one you lived in before?"
"Yes. I was curious to see what became of it. All of my stuff is gone, and someone else is renting it now," she explained, feeling a tinge of sadness. Felicity had expected as much and yet she still felt dejected that the world had moved on without her.
A stricken expression crossed Oliver's face. "God, Felicity, I'm sorry."
"My landlord, Charlie, is a sweet old man. I nearly gave him a heart attack when he saw me. He'd been worried that something happened to me. He even filed a police report when he thought I'd gone missing." She added, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice, "My father has deep pockets and covered it up with the authorities, of course. When Charlie realized I wasn't coming back, he cleared out my things and gave them away."
"If you want, we could find out who he gave them to," Oliver offered.
"Thank you for that, but it's okay. Those things don't matter. What does is these." She held up the pictures. "Charlie kept my box of old photographs. He said he didn't have the heart to throw them away. So he held on to them just in case." Felicity offered them to Oliver. "I thought you might like to have a look."
"I'd love to." He held them gingerly in his hands, careful not to bend them or smudge them with fingerprints. He stared at the first one of her as a toddler, and a smile lit up his entire face within seconds. "You had blond curls even then."
"I took after my mom."
"And a cute toothy grin," he playfully added.
"I was always a talker. Even when I couldn't quite form the words, I wouldn't stop trying—or so my mom said."
"Is this her?" He studied the picture of a young blond woman cradling a baby Felicity.
"Yeah."
"You do look like her. She's beautiful." He flipped through a few more and chuckled at a picture of a five-year-old Felicity wearing a jeweled, feathered hat that was much too big for her head. She was surrounded by a group of Las Vegas showgirls. "You certainly had a colorful childhood."
"To say the least. Those women were all so nice. Sometimes they'd babysit me while my mom worked. I liked playing dress-up and putting on their makeup."
"I can see that."
"They made me feel special. I was mostly alone as a kid. I loved playing with all kinds of gadgets, and the other kids in daycare and pre-school thought I was weird. I babbled a lot, because my mind was always moving so fast. I was able to figure out things they couldn't. It only got worse as I got older. But when I hung out with those women, they were always so welcoming. Pretending I was one of them made me feel beautiful."
"You were beautiful."
"I never really thought so. I was too awkward, and my mother had this bubbly charisma that made it look so easy. It never was that easy for me." She shrugged. "Plus, my dad was always in and out. My mom said it was because his job was important, which made me feel like I wasn't. I thought he stayed away because there was something wrong with me. He only seemed to come around when he needed my mom to spy on one of his rivals at the casino."
"There was nothing wrong with you." Oliver reached over and placed a hand on her knee, giving it a little squeeze. "And you're important to me, shamsi."
Her eyes watered despite the smile that lit up her face. She never knew simple words could hold so much meaning. The pair stared deeply into each other's eyes, the gorgeous view and people around them long forgotten. Felicity cupped Oliver's cheek and leaned in for a tender kiss. "Thank you."
"Your mother loved you a lot. I can tell." He held up another photo. Felicity was a young kid making a silly face and hugging her mom while a smiling Donna placed a kiss on her cheek.
"The last time I spoke to Darhk, he told me that my mother accepted her life with him. That I falsely idolized her. She apparently wasn't the person I thought she was either." She wiped away a stray tear and pointed at the picture. "That was days before she was killed. It's my favorite picture." She huffed out, "Sorry, I didn't mean to put a damper on our date."
"You didn't. It means a lot that you're sharing all of this with me." He drew her fully into his embrace, and she snuggled into his comforting warmth. "I want to know everything about you, Felicity, and I'll gladly spend a lifetime doing just that."
Goose bumps broke out on her skin. "Oliver," she murmured.
"Yeah."
She shifted her head back to look up into his breathtaking blue eyes. "You are so getting lucky when we get home."
They both busted out laughing, the momentary gray cloud that had passed over them fading, and she squealed when Oliver playfully smacked her bottom. More laughter and teasing followed when Oliver saw the rest of Felicity's pictures from college. He couldn't get over her Goth look, which included straightened, dyed black hair, pale makeup, and lots of purple lipstick.
"I was in my screw-the-world hacktivist phase," Felicity tried to explain.
"You were still cute as a rebel."
"I was not cute. I was badass!" she insisted.
"I don't doubt that if Al Hassoub had heard of you." He gently tugged on one of her curls. "What made you go back to blond?"
Felicity sighed. "After Cooper dumped me and my hacktivist friends turned on me, it didn't take long for me to figure out that my new style was more about trying to fit in with them than actually being true to myself."
Oliver ran his hands through the golden locks, and she practically purred from his tender caresses. That is until nature called; the wine was getting to her. Felicity excused herself to go to the bathroom and affectionately peppered Oliver's face with parting kisses. After waiting in yet another line for a stall, she took a few minutes to fix her makeup in the mirror.
When she returned, Felicity stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her. Oliver had gotten up from their seat and stood near the railing—and he wasn't alone. A tall, thin brunette in a tight black dress held a martini in one hand while the other reached over to touch Oliver's arm as she spoke.
Felicity's eyes widened as a moment of shock hit her. Once that cleared, the old expression "seeing red" became a reality. Red spots of indignation did indeed cloud her vision as she watched some random woman obviously trying to flirt with her husband. Oliver, to his credit, took a step back—looking extremely tense even as he politely nodded to whatever his new admirer was saying.
As if he could sense her eyes on him, Oliver's gaze drifted over to where she stood. The brunette moved in again, trying to reclaim his attention, and this time her hand slid to Oliver's tie. One of the training techniques Sara had taught Felicity to disarm an enemy and lay the person out on their back suddenly popped into her head. She wouldn't mind practicing the move on the Jezebel wannabe over there. Oliver looked like a deer in the headlights as he stared between them both.
Felicity's eyes narrowed as she charged forward. The blonde cleared her throat loudly. "Oliver, who's your new friend?" she questioned in a deceptively sweet yet terse tone.
The brunette—who of course had the look of a damn runway model with her delicate features and high cheekbones—blinked at Felicity's sudden appearance. "I'm Isabel Rochev, VP of acquisitions at Stellmore International." She eyed Felicity up and down and seemed to come to the conclusion that the competition was already over. She grinned smugly. "And you are?"
"Felicity Smoak, MIT class of '09 and cyber hacker extraordinaire," she shot back. "I'm also his wife."
"Isn't hacking illegal?"
"Isn't hitting on someone's husband immoral?"
"I didn't see a ring." She pointedly stared at Felicity's bare left hand.
"Well, now you know appearances can be deceiving."
"Clearly." She held Felicity's glare a moment longer. "It was nice talking to you, Oliver. Maybe I'll see you around."
The blonde stared daggers at Isabel's retreating back before crossing her arms and looking expectantly at her husband.
Oliver already had his hands up in surrender. "I swear I told her that we were married, but she just kept talking. I didn't know how else to get rid of her without being rude."
Felicity guffawed. "Oliver, how is it that you're the Heir to the Demon who commands the entire League of Assassins and yet you're stumped by some—some—sly siren who wants in your pants?"
"I think 'siren' gives her a little too much credit," he chuckled. At his wife's scowl, he instantly quieted. He placed a tentative hand on her cheek and looked relieved when she didn't swat it away—although Felicity was tempted. "Despite her come-ons, I didn't flirt back. I wasn't interested." He tugged her forward by the waist. "You know I only have eyes for you, my little sunflower." He whispered against her lips, "I love you."
It took a few seconds for Felicity to return his kiss. "I might've overreacted a little," she admitted when her temper cooled. She brushed her fingers against the back of his neck. "I guess I'm not used to sharing you."
"You don't have to share me, because I'm already yours."
The conviction of his words made her insides quiver. "You know what I mean."
"I do." He pecked her lips affectionately. "Although, I do have to admit seeing you be the jealous one for once is actually kind of sexy."
She huffed out a laugh. "Seriously?"
"Oh yeah. You looked like you were ready to challenge her to a duel. It was very Bride of the Demon," he teased.
Felicity confessed, "I was tempted to try out Sara's combat techniques if what's-her-face didn't back down."
"I doubt it needed to come to that, but you totally would've won. I'm sorry if you were upset, though," he said more seriously. "Maybe I can make it up to you."
"Maybe you can." Glancing at the dance floor, a wonderful idea popped into Felicity's head. "Dance with me."
He hadn't expected that. "What?"
"The band is finally playing a slow song. Dance with me," she said. "Please?"
"I don't dance." Before she could pout, Oliver added, "But if it's you asking, I'll do it."
She nodded eagerly. "I'm asking."
They joined the other swaying couples on the dance floor and found an open spot near the center. Felicity's heart fluttered in her chest when their hands interlocked and Oliver wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her close. Her free hand landed on his broad shoulder, and her head soon followed. She closed her eyes, enjoying the moment. Felicity couldn't think of anything more perfect than being in the city she loved with the man who'd claimed her heart.
She felt completely content until her bare left finger came into focus on his chest. "I hate to admit it, but Isabel wasn't entirely wrong earlier."
"What about?"
"We don't have wedding rings," she pointed out. "We have no way of showing that we belong to each other here. When you were engaged to Talia, I learned that you gave her an emerald bracelet to commemorate your newfound commitment. You've been so generous and given me so many wonderful and beautiful things, don't get me wrong. But I've realized we're missing one of the most important symbols of our love."
Oliver sucked in a breath, his expression hopeful. "Our love?"
She stroked his cheek, feeling herself getting lost in his captivating stare. The charge in the air between them was electric. Their noses rubbed together as their lips met in a soft kiss. This was it. "Oliver, I lo—"
Felicity never got to finish her sentence. A bright yellow light blinded the room, followed by an explosion that shook the entire building. Felicity would've lost her balance if not for Oliver's firm grip. There were shouts and screams as everyone tried to figure out what was going on. Many people had fallen while others were already pushing and rushing toward the exit. Felicity clung to Oliver like a lifeline while her ears rang from the deafening boom.
"Felicity, are you okay?" Oliver shouted over the chaos surrounding them.
"I'm fine," she replied. "Are you all right?"
"I'm okay," he said, but his attention was already elsewhere. His eyes methodically scanned across the room to find the source of the danger.
Felicity didn't know what to think. From what she could tell, nothing in their immediate presence had exploded. She couldn't be sure, but she thought the force of the blast would've completely swept them off their feet if it'd been their building. At the very least she expected the sprinkler system to go off.
Another group of people headed for the balcony, screaming and pointing at something in the distance. Some already had their cell phones out recording whatever it was they'd spotted. Taking hold of her hand, Oliver led her outside to the balcony. Felicity gasped at the horrific view; the explosion had come from the Queen Consolidated building. Flames and smoke flared from the gaping hole in the top floor. .
"Oh my God." Felicity looked to Oliver and, once again, was taken aback. She expected to see the composed, focused warrior she'd come to know. The one who analyzed the situation before rushing to action.
Instead, she discovered a different fire burning brightly in his eyes—one to rival the flames in the distance. Oliver was no longer with her. Al Sah-him had taken over, and the ferocity she witnessed told her he'd be out for blood. There was only one explanation she could think of that would cause such a reaction.
"Do you think Merlyn is behind this?"
"I know he is," he said through gritted teeth.
"How?"
"We have to go. Now."
After calling Nyssa to tell her what he'd witnessed, Al Sah-him was completely silent as he sped back to the loft. Felicity desperately wanted to ask him what was going on but sensed he was too preoccupied with whatever thoughts were running through his head. Her husband was in warrior mode, and she hesitated to break his concentration. They'd started the night together, but now he was somewhere else entirely.
The first thing Felicity did when they arrived home was remove her heels. Al Sah-him, meanwhile, sprinted upstairs to change into his League gear. With a dejected sigh, she plopped onto the couch. So much for their perfect evening.
Al Sah-him came charging back down the stairs, looking ready to do battle. He punched a few numbers into the security system and the wall next to him popped open to reveal a cache of weapons within.
"Are you going to investigate?" she finally spoke up.
"Yes."
"You still think it's Merlyn?"
"Yes."
"But are you sure? Why would he attack QC?" she questioned, mostly to herself. It didn't make sense that he would choose some random target. Sure, it would draw out the League but for someone who prided himself on being stealthy, a large explosion in an office building didn't seem to match Merlyn's MO.
Al Sah-him silently strapped his quiver and bow to his back. He then drew his sword and shoved it into the sheath with unnecessary force. Felicity gnawed on her bottom lip, her worry increasing. It was usually Nyssa who couldn't control her anger when it related to Merlyn. She supposed Al Sah-him could be upset that his failure to capture Merlyn before could've prevented the explosion and the unknown casualties, but her instincts told her something more was going on.
"I could try to hack into the surrounding traffic cameras or even QC security. Maybe it'll give you the answers you need and—"
"No," he immediately dismissed. "I don't want you involved in this."
"But I can help."
"I appreciate the offer, shamsi, but we've got it handled." Al Sah-him finally turned to look at her. "I'm sorry about our date."
"Believe it or not, I've had worse first dates," she tried to joke, though it felt hollow to her ears.
"Try to relax. Get some sleep. Don't wait up for me."
"Please be careful." He nodded and turned for the door. Inexplicably, she got the odd feeling that she was losing him. Felicity jumped up from the couch, not wanting to end the night without saying the words she'd been keeping in for far too long. "I love you," she called after him.
Al Sah-him barely had the door open when he paused. He glanced over his shoulder. "What?"
"I love you," Felicity repeated, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off of her heart.
His hard exterior cracked ever so slightly. The next thing she knew, he'd crossed the short distance between them and swept her up into his arms as his mouth sought hers. The kiss was long, deep, and fierce. Within seconds Felicity's head spun and her knees shook from the wave of overwhelming emotion.
Although Al Sah-him's body remained tense, his lips twitched with a ghost of a smile. "I love you, too. I'll be back as soon as I can."
His promise eased at least some of her worry, and she reluctantly let him go. With the closing of the door behind him, Felicity rushed to grab the TV remote. She switched on the news to see reports of the explosion. The authorities didn't have any suspects in mind yet, nor was there a full casualty count. Most employees would be out of the building at that time of night, but they couldn't be sure of workers staying late in the office or the nighttime janitorial staff. She prayed for a miracle that no one had been hurt.
Felicity's phone pinged with a text. Sara had messaged her to say she was going with Oliver, Nyssa, and Tommy to check out the explosion, which just confirmed to Felicity that this situation was worse than her husband let on. If she needed anything, she should notify the guards Al Sah-him had left behind.
Reporters interviewed eye witnesses in between experts giving their theories of what may have happened. The lead anchorwoman, Bethany Snow, briefly mentioned the tragic history that seemed to plague the company—the Queen family had been killed over a decade ago—and how this latest incident was another misfortune. The press was awaiting a statement from the current CEO, Walter Steele.
Every time the cameras went back to the live feed at QC, Felicity frantically searched the background for any sign of Al Sah-him or the others lurking. She didn't recognize anyone, which shouldn't have been a surprise. Al Sah-him and his band of assassins relied on stealth, and they'd never let themselves get caught on camera.
Eventually, Felicity had to accept that the nightly news wouldn't be able to give her the information she wanted. She considered going into the study to work on her computer. It would be so easy to hack the cameras in the surrounding area, but the police and probably Al Hassoub were already in the system searching for answers. Even if she did hide her tracks, her virtual presence might cause more harm than good.
Instead, Felicity retreated to the bedroom. She peeled off her dress, disappointed that it was her hands doing the work and not her husband's. Considering that these instances were par for the course with them and hadn't occurred until the very end of the night, they'd still had a mostly successful date. Felicity took out her contacts and changed into her black, lacey nightie—lamenting that Oliver had yet to see that piece of clothing either.
She switched on the bedside lamp and slipped under the covers. She needed a distraction and if she used her tablet, she'd be too tempted to check the news reports and obsess over how Al Sah-him and the others were faring. Putting on her glasses, Felicity picked up her latest read, a mystery novel with a little splash of romance. The savvy, ruggedly handsome detective in the book was no Al Sah-him, but he'd have to do.
Felicity didn't know when she'd fallen asleep. She vaguely remembered her eyes drooping shut and her book plopping onto her chest. She jerked awake when she felt her glasses being remove and her book sliding from beneath her hands. It took a few seconds for her blurry eyes to focus in on her husband's chiseled face.
"Oliver?" she questioned, disoriented. "What time is it?"
"Late. Go back to sleep, shamsi."
The clock showed two o'clock. Felicity hadn't actually expected him back until at least dawn. "What happened? Did you find Merlyn?"
He let out a heavy sigh, which didn't bode well. "It's complicated. We can discuss it tomorrow." Oliver ran a hand through her curls. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"That's okay." She sat up and threw her arms around his neck. He let out a soft grunt when she squeezed him tightly, and she immediately drew back. "Are you hurt?"
Felicity didn't wait for him to respond. Most of his heavy gear was already off, and she reached to lift the black t-shirt that remained. When she saw the large, dark bruise forming along his ribs, she sucked in a breath. "You fought Merlyn."
"It wasn't Merlyn."
"Then who—"
"Tomorrow," Oliver said. His hands came up to cup her face as he captured her mouth. It was an unexpected response, and she moaned from the onslaught of his zealous kisses. She was so happy he'd returned that all of her questions faded—he was right, they could deal with the aftermath tomorrow—replaced for the time being with a raw hunger to have every inch of his naked flesh pressed against hers.
Felicity crawled onto his lap, straddling his hips. She reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head. Her mouth latched onto Oliver's shoulder, kissing and sucking on his hot skin. When she bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder, he let out a growl. His grip on the curve of her waist tightened and she ground her hips down on top of him—already feeling the growing hardness of his erection at the juncture of her thighs.
Oliver fisted her hair and tipped her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes. His pupils were as dark and expansive as the night sky. "Say it again," he ordered, his rough tone diminishing into a plea at the end.
It took a second for her hazy mind to realize what he meant, and it was her turn to cup his face. Felicity let her fingers graze the hint of scruff along his jaw. "I love you." She pressed kisses all along his face, murmuring "I love you" in between each brush of her lips.
His large, calloused hands slid down her thighs before tracing a path back up and under her nightie. When he realized she wasn't wearing panties, he cupped her bare bottom and swallowed her moans. He nipped and sucked at her lips before trailing down the column of her throat to her chest. He slid a strap aside, baring her breast to him and took the pert nipple into his mouth.
Felicity's body arched into him as her fingernails dug into the back of his neck. Oliver lapped at the nub with his tongue before biting down. A moan tore from her throat going directly into his ear. He growled back while the hand still cupping her backside guided her gyrating hips. Her body shivered when his fingers slid down along her slick sex, and she pressed harder against his ministrations.
"I've wanted you all night," he declared in a hoarse voice. "Ever since I saw you in that dress." He recaptured her mouth, his tongue delving inside to taste her. "God, you're beautiful."
"I've wanted you, too," she panted. "But are you sure this is okay if you're hurt?" She gently caressed his bruised ribs. Felicity was careful to keep the majority of her weight off of him, not wanting to cause him any unnecessary pain.
"I can handle it. My need for you outweighs any pain I may feel."
Oliver helped her remove the nightie. The moment their naked chests pressed together, it was like gasoline being thrown on the fire of their passion. They both reached to undo his pants. As he slid out of them, Oliver moved toward the center of the bed. Felicity tossed aside his pants and followed.
"Wait, I need to grab—" He moved to open the bedside drawer where they kept the box of condoms, but Felicity straddled him again and pinned him in place.
"We don't need it."
"But we always—"
"I don't want to use it," she murmured, stroking his back and loving the way his muscles rippled beneath her touch. "I love you, and I want nothing between us anymore. I want all of you, Oliver."
He met her intent stare, searching her expression as he comprehended her meaning. Oliver already knew she was on the pill, and yet they'd always been extra careful. But tonight wasn't about caution. It was about breaking down the last of their barriers, both physically and emotionally, and finally being together in the most intimate way possible.
He caressed her cheek, staring at her in awe and disbelief. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that."
"I should've told you sooner but—"
"But you needed time to adjust," he finished for her. "I know how you are, shamsi, and I accept that. I would've waited even longer if that's what you needed."
She gave him a teary-eyed smile. "And that's exactly why I'm so in love with you."
He wiped away her tears and kissed her forehead. It was a simple yet wonderfully heartfelt gesture. "You have the most beautiful soul, my wife. I want nothing more than to be worthy of you."
"You are. Believe me you are." She kissed him then, soft and slow. "I couldn't ask for a more amazing husband and partner. Earlier when that explosion went off and then you had to leave, I was so worried…I don't ever want to lose you."
"Hey, you're not going to lose me." He kissed her again, deeper and with an unbridled passion that left her breathless. "I'm not going anywhere." Oliver's fingers traced the curve of her back before resting on her hips. He tugged her forward, poising her above him.
Felicity circled her hips, letting the tip of his shaft glide against her inner folds. Their groans mingled together as their lips hovered in much the same way. Her entire being trembled with anticipation of being fully joined with her husband. The desire to lose herself in him probably should've scared her, but she'd learned a while ago that she'd actually found so much more of herself while being with him. They'd found themselves in each other, really.
Finally, Felicity lowered her hips and let Oliver guide her the rest of the way. She clung to him as his velvety hardness filled her inch by inch. Her inner walls contracted around him with the raw sensation.
Oliver swore under his breath when he reached her hilt, his hips jerking in response and hitting her in just the right spot. He was trembling, too, and buried his head in her neck. His hot breaths against her skin made her shiver.
"You feel so fucking perfect," came his muffled voice.
She nodded in agreement, searching for the right words but unable to think past the pleasure of having him buried deep inside her—unsheathed and throbbing. Felicity kissed the side of his head, tightened her hold on his shoulders for support, and lifted her hips. She rose until he was almost completely out of her and then slowly sank back down. The wet friction of penetration made her clench around him, and her head fell back as her body arched to retake him in full.
Oliver moaned into her neck and bit at the sensitive skin there. The sharp pain mixed with her pleasure, and Felicity cried out. He then smoothed the spot over with this tongue and laid a few kisses before trailing up to her mouth. She continued the action with her hips, lifting up and trusting down. Oliver's hands roamed her body. He alternated between massaging her breasts and directing her movements as she rode him.
When he yanked her down hard and thrust up into her, the white hot pleasure flared in her core and spread to the rest of her limbs. She sunk her teeth into his bottom lip in response. Their uncontrolled moans mixed with the sound of their sweat-soaked skin slapping together.
The ecstasy of her breasts rubbing against the solid muscles of his chest caused them to harden. Every stroke added to her craving for release until it became painful. She directed her husband's hand back to her chest and begged for him to touch her. Oliver obliged, circling his thumb around a reddened nub and pinching it. Felicity cried out, urging him on, while her thighs worked overtime to keep the pounding rhythm of their lower bodies steady.
Somehow the pleasure was too much and not enough all at once. She whimpered mid-kiss and dug her fingernails into his back. "Oliver," she pleaded. "I need more."
With his impressive strength, he scooped her up and flipped them over. Felicity's back hit the mattress as Oliver propelled his pelvis forward, hitting her tiny bundle of nerves and giving her some of the relief she needed. She wrapped her legs around him completely and shoved the heels of her feet into his ass, urging him on.
"Yes, yes," she chanted and arched off the bed when he continued to lavish her breasts with his ravenous mouth. Felicity closed her eyes, reveling in her husband's plundering passion.
"Do you know how many men wanted you tonight, shamsi?" he grumbled against her ear, taking her by surprise.
"No. Were there a lot?" she replied, riling him up further. Maybe it was cruel, but she kinda loved his jealous streak. It unleashed his carnal desires, and right now she desperately wanted to be the focus of her husband's uninhibited lust.
"I couldn't even keep count how many of those bastards were openly gawking at you."
Her giggle turned into a moan on a particularly forceful thrust. "The women were no better with you." She kissed him hungrily, her hold possessive. "Harder, husband. Show me that you're mine"
"I am yours." Their open-mouth kisses were fiery and visceral as their lower bodies met in frantic thrusts. The coil in her core tightened.
"I love you, Oliver," she gasped in between kisses. "I love you so much."
"Open your eyes, Felicity," he ordered. "Open your eyes and say it. I want to watch it on your lips when I make you come."
Felicity did just that. She stared into the deep, intense blue of her husband's hypnotic eyes and declared her love for him over and over. Her heart, filled with nothing but adoration for the man above her, was about to beat out of her chest. Her body clenched and vibrated with his every move until she finally reached the pinnacle of her arousal, culminating in an explosion of all-consuming pleasure.
She shouted with her release, not giving a damn if she woke the entire building up. Her walls contracting around him caused Oliver to spiral. His erratic thrusts told her he was on the cusp of his orgasm. Felicity continued to lift her pelvis, riding out the rest of her own release and urging him to join her. She massaged the base of his spine, knowing that spot would fully push him over the edge. Suddenly, Oliver groaned her name and she felt his hot seed spilling inside of her with every buck of his hips. The moment was intense, intimate, and so extremely sensual that her body was rocked by a second orgasm.
The pair collapsed into a heap of sweaty, tangled limbs, still reeling as they attempted to catch their breaths. Oliver eventually moved, shifting onto his side to face her. Felicity bridged the tiny gap, resting her head next to his on the pillow, and smiled.
"In case you couldn't tell, I love you," she teasingly whispered.
His fingers traced patterns into her skin. "I love you, too."
Felicity bit her lip, taking care in choosing her next words. "I was afraid that things would be different here."
Oliver frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I've known for a while that my feelings for you are really strong, but we've been in our own little world the entire time we've been together. I worried that out in the real world the dynamics would shift, and what we thought we had in Nanda Parbat would turn out to be some kind of illusion," she confessed.
"That's why going on a date was so important to you," he surmised.
"I'm not used to things working out." She shrugged, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than she'd been all night. "I wanted to have a night where we could be normal and just us."
"We did. Until that damn explosion," he sighed while winding one of her curls around his finger. "I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault, and we still had a good night. I felt a real sense of peace, and I haven't had that in a long time. Not since my mom was alive." She revealed, "But even if our date had been completely ruined, it wouldn't change how I feel about you. I'd still be completely in love with you." Felicity had hoped for the perfect night. Maybe it was an unrealistic expectation but if there was one thing she had learned from their date, it was that her and Oliver's connection was strong no matter where they were or what they were doing.
"I'm glad you told me about your mom. And where your head was at."
Felicity ran her hand along his arm, unable to keep herself from touching him. She could never get enough of him. "I love being here with you. Not just in this bed, I mean, but in the city. I realize you're on an important mission, but there are times I see you so at ease—like when you're cooking dinner for me here in the loft or when we were on our date. And it's made me wonder…" she trailed off, unsure if she should voice her question.
"Wonder what?" he prompted with a soothing caress.
"Do you want to be Warith al Ghul?" Oliver became very still, but she pressed on, "Have you ever considered what life would be like outside of the League?"
He hesitated and said, "I never had a choice."
"But if you did, would you still choose this life?"
"I never let myself think about it. There was no point, because all I had was the League." He cupped the crook of her neck and let his thumb stroke the underside of her jaw. "As Warith al Ghul, I knew I would have to eventually marry. I would fulfill my duties as a husband, but I swore a long time ago that I'd never let myself get truly attached to anyone. Being a strong leader for the League was what mattered." He watched her silently, his eyes searching for something in her own. Eventually he admitted, "I even vowed to myself that I would never have children with whoever became my wife. I wouldn't want to bring kids into this life, and I couldn't afford to worry about their safety. I've already lost too many people that I care about."
"Ra's wanted you with Talia to continue his bloodline," she pointed out.
"Yes, he did. Which is why I never told him or anyone else of my vow."
Felicity had never seriously thought about having kids. She was so young, and it seemed impossible that she'd ever find a man she trusted enough to settle down with. Even now that she had Oliver, her trepidation remained. She, too, feared what it would be like to have a child and raise it in the League. On top of that, she was nowhere near ready for motherhood. And yet, a part of Felicity felt unexpectedly disheartened by his confession that it would never happen.
"I can understand that," she mumbled. "I've never been sure about kids myself and after seeing what the League is like, it makes sense—"
"Shamsi, I'm not telling you this because the vow still stands," he said. "I'm telling you because I find myself wanting more with you than I ever thought possible. Lately, I can't seem to stop imagining 'what if?' When I picture our future, I don't just see the two of us. Someday, when we're both ready, I think I would like a family."
"You want me to have your baby?" Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, and she was highly aware of the satisfying ache and moisture between her legs left behind from their earlier lovemaking.
"Our baby, yes. Someday," he reiterated. "If it's what you want, too."
"I'm not ready now either," she stated. "But someday…" She tried to picture their future, too, and she didn't feel panicked by the prospect of growing their family. She felt hopeful. Seeing the tender way Oliver was with little Amina many times before, she had no doubts that he'd be a great father. "I think we can work toward that."
She felt Oliver's smile against her lips and sighed in contentment when he nuzzled her nose. "You know, we may have to practice a lot before then. Just to make sure we're really ready when the time comes."
Felicity wound her arms around his neck and shifted so that she could easily roll beneath him. Her husband's strong, hard body pinning her to the mattress reignited her desire. Hooking her legs around Oliver's waist, Felicity declared mid-kiss, "It's the only responsible thing to do."
The ear-splitting echo of glass shattering jolted Felicity from a deep and peaceful sleep. The absolute darkness of the bedroom disoriented her. Glancing at the clock on her nightstand, she saw that it'd been only a couple of hours since she and Oliver had finally drifted asleep. She reached over to wake her husband and found the spot next to her empty.
Another loud crash rang out, and Felicity's entire body filled with sickening dread. If Oliver wasn't in bed with her, then he must be part of the disturbance. Had Merlyn come to them? Is that who her husband now fought? Throwing back the covers, Felicity got out of bed and searched for any piece of clothing she could find to quickly cover herself. She nearly slipped on Oliver's black t-shirt in the darkness, which was good enough for her current need.
Shoving it over her head, Felicity ran for the stairs. Two figures battled in the living room, but she could barely make them out with nothing but the moonlight. Felicity felt for the light switch in the corridor. It wouldn't be as bright as the main lights, but at least she'd get a better look at what was going on below.
She flipped it on and gasped. "Oh frack." The downstairs was in complete disarray. The couches were askew and the kitchen table was turned over. The broken glass spread all over the floor was from a vase, and it was mixed with streaks of blood.
Oliver—dressed only in his pants—had his bow in hand, wielding it like a sword against a man in black tactical gear. The intruder held a wooden club, which she realized was actually a broken piece of a kitchen chair. In between jabs, the pair threw punches. They were moving so fast she couldn't tell who was bleeding, although she didn't see any obvious gaping wounds in her husband's shirtless state.
When Oliver got his arms around the guy's neck, he shouted to her, "Felicity, get out of here! Go get the guards!"
Felicity would've done just that if she hadn't finally gotten a good look at the man her husband had in a chokehold. "Oliver," she screamed. "Don't! Don't hurt him! Let him go!"
"What?" he yelled back, bewildered.
The second-long distraction was enough for the man to get the jump on Oliver. He flipped him and pulled out a gun.
"Felicity, get to the balcony," the other man shouted, "and wait for me there! I have an escape route."
"No, don't shoot!" she exclaimed, now worried for her husband.
Oliver didn't stay down. He threw glass up at the man's face and knocked his legs out from under him. He then rolled up, grabbing his bow and a stray arrow. He stood over his opponent with the arrow pointed at his head.
Felicity threw herself in front of the man on the ground, and Oliver immediately blanched. "Felicity, get away from him!" he hollered. "He'll kill you."
"Not until you put the bow down. He's not the enemy. I swear it. Dig is my friend," she rushed out.
"What?"
"John Diggle," she explained. "Remember I told you about him. He was my bodyguard growing up."
Oliver hesitated as her words sunk in. Felicity held her husband's fierce yet confused gaze, imploring him to listen to her and back down. Oliver seemed about ready to finally lower his bow when Dig dove for his gun on the ground and raised it.
Felicity didn't think she'd ever moved so fast in her life. This time, she threw herself in front of Oliver and raised her hands. "Dig, that goes for you, too. Don't hurt him. Please put the gun down so we can all talk about this."
"Talk about what? Felicity, do you know who this guy is? This son of a bitch is an assassin and apparently your kidnapper."
"There's more to it than that. Please just trust me."
"If he doesn't stop pointing that gun at you, I'm putting an arrow in him," Oliver threatened. He tried to move her behind him, but she wouldn't budge.
"You already did that," Dig retorted and raised his shoulder for Felicity to see the bloody wound. "And I'm not pointing it at her. I'm pointing it at you. Felicity, move. Let me finish this and get you out of here."
She stubbornly retorted, "I can't move, Dig."
"Why?" he demanded.
"Because he's my husband!"
"What?" Dig's eyes widened in disbelief, but his gun lowered the tiniest fraction. "Come again?"
"He's my husband," Felicity repeated, holding his stare.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
A/N: Oh yeah, John Diggle has finally made his big entrance! Also, I'm sure you've all got more burning questions (pun intended) about Oliver's past and possible connection to Tommy. Next chapter we really dive into it! ;)
Translation:
shamsi = my sun