A/N: Thanks for the great response to this story! Don't stop telling me what you think ;)

Sorry, this AN will be a little longer because I feel like explaining a few things.

First of all, the homepage totally screwed with the formatting, which is why I'd like you to meet Asterism (⁂ ), which will hopefully help make this reading experience a little more enjoyable.

As you may have noticed in the first chapter, I'm totally screwing with the timeline of the 1st season, seeing that it's already Oliver's birthday and the Undertaking hasn't happened yet. That doesn't mean I forgot about it, my story is just moving at a very different speed. I do intend to bring a few elements from TV into this story; I'll just add my own spin to them.

I'm thinking that I'll stick with updating on Friday evenings; fingers crossed I'll get enough writing done during the week that I can keep up the weekly updates. So far, so good.

One more thing: This story will include spoilers up until the S2 finale. I'll try to stay clear of things from S3 as I continue this story because I know that the readers aren't just from the States and may have to wait a little while longer until the new season starts in their country. If I do include information from S3, I'll make sure to warn you in an author's note.

That's it for now. Happy reading and have a great weekend.

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Oliver nursed on his first beer, overlooking his club from the second level, leaning against the railing. He and Tommy had left the mansion quickly after dinner while the girls were getting ready, to be there when the club opened. People had already been lining up outside and an hour later the club was completely packed.

It wasn't like anybody in there actually gave a shit about his birthday though, he thought bitterly.

"Enjoying your big birthday bash?" Sounded a familiar voice from beside him.

He turned to face his sister. "Sure," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his words as he continued, "I love celebrating a day that means nothing to me with a few hundred strangers who just wanna get drunk and say they attended Oliver Queen's birthday party."

Thea raised a surprised eyebrow. "Wow, Mr. Grumpy Pants, try not to kick any puppies while you're at it."

He sighed and took a long drink form his beer. "Sorry, Speedy, today's not really my day."

"Well, if it helps, some people are actually here because they love you and are happy that you're around to celebrate another birthday," Thea murmured.

He did know that. But he could also count those people on one hand. He engulfed his sister in a tight hug.

"Thank you." His eyes drifted over the dance floor once again, stopping on a shock of blonde hair.

"What the hell? Is that...?"

Thea disentangled herself from him and followed his gaze before letting out a bark of laughter. "Your super hot wife? Yes, it is," she snickered. "Judging by the herd of men around her, you're not the only one who noticed her."

She stepped on her toes and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Don't duck out too early, Ollie, I wanna dance with you later."

He watched her leave, before returning his gaze to Felicity's dancing form. She was indeed surrounded by a ridiculous amount of men, trying to dance with her. Currently, she was dancing with a tall blonde guy who looked like a wannabe Matthew McConaughey. When the song ended, Wannabe McConaughey bent down to speak in her ear, earning him a light nod before he took her hand and led her to the bar.

Oliver clenched his teeth. And then his jaw dropped when he finally saw what Felicity was wearing. Her dress, if you could even call that tiny scrap of material that, barely covered her behind. With her high heels and the indecent amount of clothing, her legs looked like they were a mile long.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw Wannabe McConaughey place a hand low on her waist, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Instead of putting him in his place like she so often did when his own hands started to wander, Felicity just threw her head back and laughed at whatever Wannabe McConaughey had said and laid her left hand on his chest to steady herself.

The other man was apparently spurred on by her action and moved his other hand to cup her cheek. That combined with the the reflections of her freaking wedding band and engagement ring that were currently firmly placed on another man's chest, made something snap inside of Oliver.

He practically ran down the stairs bumping into people while he made his way over to the bar. Without saying a word he grabbed Felicity's beringed hand off the man's chest and dragged her after him towards the storage room where he quickly punched in the code.

Once they were inside, he pressed her against the cold steel of the closed door, her left hand held in place by his right above her head. In the dim light of the room he could see the surprise swiveling through her eyes, leaving her vulnerable for a second before it gave way to the anger that he was so accustomed to by now.

"What the hell, Oliver?" she hissed.

He let out a humorless chuckle. "I was about to ask you the same question," he snarled back. "In what twisted universe is it acceptable spousal behavior to flirt with the next best guy one fucking week after the wedding?"

"You gotta be kidding me. Let go of me," she said, trying to wriggle her hand out of his grasp while simultaneously trying to shove him away with her free hand. But he didn't budge even a millimeter.

"Not until you explain to me why you would let yourself be groped by another man during my birthday party in my club where anybody could've seen you. Where anybody could've taken a picture of you. Do you want to have rumors about our shitty relationship swirling around the tabloids already?" He took a breath. "And while we're at it, what the fuck are you wearing?"

She regarded him for a long moment. "What makes you think you have any right to judge how I dress, or what or who I'm doing?"

"Because I'm your husband," he roared, slamming his free hand into the door next to her head.

She flinched and looked at him with wide and, for once, scared eyes. "Let go of me," she whispered.

This time he complied, unsure if it was out of guilt for flipping out or because her voice was as soft as he'd never heard it before. Both of his hands were now firmly planted on either side of her head, more or less trapping her in her position, but she didn't make a move to get away from him.

Instead, she tilted her head to the side in that usual fashion of hers. Calmly she said, "What we have might look like a marriage to the outside world and yes, we both signed a document that binds us together, but we both know that it's nothing more than that: a piece of paper."

She brought up her left hand. "This," she wiggled her ring finger, "doesn't mean I'm yours. And that," she pointed at his left hand. "Doesn't mean you're mine. Despite what our pre-nup says, we agreed that we're both free to date other people as long as it stays discreet."

"Yes, discreet," he emphasized. "You being felt up in my club for the world to see is not discreet."

She hummed in understanding. "Plus, it looked like you couldn't keep me... satisfied for even a week,"

she said sweetly.

He actually hadn't considered that until just then. He ground his teeth together in annoyance. God, she really knew how to push his buttons.

"Is that what this is about? Making me look like a fool that can't keep his wife happy?"

"No, this is about me enjoying a night out for once. So if a nice guy asks me to dance and offers to buy me a drink, I'll take him up on it. And if I decide I wanna get laid tonight, I'll find a guy to do that with and you'll deal with it because that's what we agreed on."

For a moment his mind flashed to a scenario where she was pressed against a wall, legs wrapped around another guy. In his mind, he could see her flushed skin, hear labored breaths and passionate moans escaping her swollen lips.

With a sharp intake of breath he pulled himself out of his thoughts and took a hasty step back. Away from her.

Finally, he was able to put a name to what he'd been seeing ever since he'd seen her hug Tommy at the mansion earlier. Jealousy. Pure, unadulterated jealousy.

Of course, he wasn't new to this particular feeling. Despite his healthy amount of self-esteem, he'd felt the hands of the green-eyed monster close around his heart before.

But never with this kind of intensity. Never had he experienced the nasty little emotion with quite this fervor. He was ready to move mountains, to do whatever was necessary to protect what was his. Except that the person he regarded as his was adamant that she in fact wasn't.

But then again, she'd been stubborn from the start. If he was honest with himself, that was one of the qualities he lov... didn't find completely recoiling about her.

Oh God, he was so screwed.

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- January 2013 -

To say it had been one hell of a week would be the understatement of the century.

It had been one of the worst weeks of his life. Which, of course, was saying a lot, considering that he had been stranded on a deserted island and been forced to kill more men than he was ever willing to admit.

It had all started with what he dubbed as Catastrophic Coffee Monday. First, the quirky blonde woman had emptied a cup of scalding hot coffee on him, making him late for an important meeting and gaining the renewed disappointment of his mother, and then he had accidentally spilled coffee on the same blonde's laptop, which actually turned out to be a prototype of his family's company.

So, Monday hat been a shitty day. Tuesday had started off quietly, until Tommy called to inform him that apparently there had been an anonymous complaint that had prompted the health inspector to pay the club an unannounced visit, sending him and Diggle into high alert.

Oliver had rushed to Verdant and together with Tommy he had somehow managed to keep the inspector out of the foundry without resorting to bribing, again.

Just after the inspector had left, his phone had started ringing nonstop. Reporters had been asking him to make a comment on sperm donation and why he'd decided to do it.

Next, he had been called by QC's PR people who had urged him to turn off his phone and come to the office so they could run interference. Once he'd arrived there, he'd been greeted by a herd of reporters, paparazzi and women who were practically throwing themselves at him, screaming that they wanted to have his baby.

By the time he'd reached the executive level, he'd been equally pissed and confused. And then one very intimidated PR guy had shown him the breaking news article titled "Who will be Queen's baby mama?" with a photo of Oliver leaving a sperm bank with sun glasses on, as well as a scan of a consent form of the sperm bank that had his signature at the bottom.

Oliver's jaw had dropped.

What the fuck?

"That," he'd pointed at the photo, "is not me."

"Sir, with all due respect, I had a contact at the FBI run this photo through a facial recognition software and apparently it is you."

Oliver had towered over the younger man. "It's not. I've never been to a sperm bank. Apparently someone is just very good with Photoshop. Make this go away," he had growled.

This week couldn't get any worse, he had thought grimly while Diggle drove him to the foundry that evening.

How wrong he'd been. How very wrong.

On Wednesday morning, Walter told him that he wanted him to fly to Metropolis to have a meeting with executives at LexCorp to discuss the possibility of a cooperation between the two companies. As he'd reached the private air strip, he'd been greeted by black SUVs surrounding the company jet. A DEA agent had approached the car and explained to him that they had evidence that the jet was frequently being used to smuggle drugs.

Oliver had just shook his head in disbelief, telling the agent to contact his lawyers, and told Digg to gun it to Starling City airport, with any luck he'd catch a flight that would still get him to Metropolis in time.

After arriving at the airport, he'd jumped out of the car to run to the closest ticket counter, carry-on in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He'd slammed down his passport and credit card on the counter and asked for a flight to Metropolis while trying to reach Walter at the office to warn him that he'd be cutting it close for the meeting.

Suddenly, though, his hyper awareness had kicked in. He'd looked at the young woman behind the counter who'd looked at him nervously, and then he'd felt like he was being watched. His body had tensed up visibly.

"Sir, we need you to come with us and answer some questions." A deep voice had called out behind him.

When he'd swiveled around, he'd seen himself face to face with no less than ten TSA agents and police officers.

"What the hell is going on?" he'd questioned angrily. "I'm gonna miss my flight."

"Sir, you're not going anywhere. We're here to detain you until the FBI arrives."

He'd been led to an interrogation room, were he'd been left to wait for a good hour before finally a couple of FBI agents had walked in with a bunch of his family lawyers. He'd been informed that he was listed on the No Fly List and then they'd continued to interrogate him for four more hours before he was finally released but remained on the No Fly List. Needless to say that Walter was thoroughly annoyed that he hadn't been able to go to Metropolis.

Thursday had started early. Very early, considering that he'd came home from the foundry at 2am. Two hours later he'd been woken up by a frantic Thea who'd kept babbling something about police officers being everywhere. Sure enough, not ten seconds later, his door had been kicked down, sending him into to a fighting position while dragging Thea behind him. Five SWAT officers filed into his room in full on tactical gear, securing the area around them.

Together with Thea, his mother and the on-site staff, he'd been told to go wait in the living room while the whole house was being searched. Two officers remained with them and explained that a distress call had been placed, claiming that there was a bomb in the house. Three hours later the whole house and every last corner of the rest of the property had been searched and cleared by the bomb squad. No trace of any kind of explosives had been found.

By ten o'clock he had finished his twelfth cup of coffee, desperately trying to stay awake while sifting through his mail. Who sent letters anymore anyway? His eyes had drifted aimlessly over the paper until he'd caught sight of the number five hundred thousand. He'd started to read the letter again with a little more focus.

His jaw had dropped in disbelief. The letter was from the Starling city food bank thanking him for his generous donation of five hundred fucking thousand dollars. He'd immediately called his bank but all they could do was confirm that indeed there had been made a transaction with the same amount.

What the hell? He'd asked himself for the hundredth time that week.

Today was Friday, and thank God for it. It was 3pm and so far everything had been quiet.

Just when he leaned back in his office chair his phone rang. After glancing at the caller I.D., he answered, "What's up, Tommy?"

"Can you come to the club like now?"

Oliver closed his eyes in uneasy anticipation of what he knew was coming next. "What´s wrong?"

"We may have a problem... or two. Just get here as..." His voice was cut off by a high-pitched ringing sound interrupted by a recorded voice telling him that this was not a drill and to proceed to the nearest exit.

"Dude, you're okay?" came Tommy's worried voice over the phone.

"Yeah, it's just the fire alarm. I'll head over to the club once I figure out what the hell is going on here."

After making sure everybody on his floor had left their offices, he headed for the stairs where he ran into his mother and Walter who where just as clueless as he was. Thirty floors later, they all stepped out of the lobby and made their way into the plaza in front of the building, joining the rest of QC employees. There were fire trucks and police cars scattered over the whole place, but there was also a black SWAT truck and another unmarked truck closer to the entrance.

A guy in a dark suit came over to where the three of them were standing. "Mrs. Queen, Mr. Steele, Mr. Queen, I'm Detective Matthews with the SCPD. I was sent to give you an update on the situation."

"Are all my employees out?" Walter asked, concern lacing his voice.

"As far as we can tell, yes. I have officers going around taking down names to compare them to the sign-in logs. It'll take some time but that way we'll know for sure if everybody is accounted for," the detective assured him.

"That's a relief," Moira chimed in. "But what in the world happened? I didn't see smoke anywhere and nobody said anything about a fire."

"We're currently trying to figure that out, Ma'am. We were already halfway here when the fire alarm started."

"What do you mean you were already halfway here?" Walter questioned.

"We received a tip about a possible attack on the building. The FBI informed us about the bomb scare at your home last night which is why we're taking this very seriously. There will be a full sweep of the building before any of you can re-enter."

Oliver tuned out the rest of the conversation, his eyes scanning the crowd of QC employees. He wasn't sure what or rather who he was looking for until his eyes fixed on a familiar face. For a brief moment his body flooded with relief when he saw that Felicity had made it out okay, but then he saw the devilish smirk she shot him.

She wouldn't have, right?

His phone beeped in his pocket. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from her. He had a text from a blocked number.

If you can't take the heat, don't start a fire.

Son of a...

His head jerked back up, eyes frantically searching the spot she'd been standing in moments earlier. She was gone.

It had been her all along.

He'd realized quickly that all of the shit that was happening to him simply couldn't be a coincidence but somehow he hadn't for one second considered that it could be her behind all of it.

He was such an idiot. She'd basically told him that she'd get revenge after the coffee shop disaster and yet he had totally dismissed her as a potential suspect. He felt the urge to slam his hand against his forehead. She was working in the IT department for crying out loud. That bitch.

Suddenly, he remembered Tommy's call and couldn't even imagine what she had up her sleeve now. Hastily, he said goodbye to his mother and Walter and ran over to his motorcycle, barely hearing his mother call after him, "Don't forget about dinner tonight at 7!"

Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of Verdant. Tommy was talking animatedly with two men at the front door.

"Oliver! Finally," he exclaimed, waving him over. "Maybe you can explain to Mr. Jannis here that we were just checked by the health department two days ago, and to Mr. Kyle that we didn't order three thousand liters of some fancy, fucking expensive German beer. We don't even have fucking beer pumps because we only sell bottled beer, for fuck's sake."

The clear frustration in his best friend's voice was more than tangible by this point. Oliver quickly introduced himself and turned to the health inspector. But despite his best efforts he remained adamant that their system showed that the last inspection had been right before the club had opened. Oliver clenched his teeth but just nodded resignedly in the end.

"Tommy can you just show him around. We know that everything is up to scratch, so there shouldn't be any problem." Just keep him away from the foundry, he told his friend with a pointed look.

"Mr. Kyle, I hear we have quite a few liters of beer that we definitely didn't order that you want to unload on us."

"I don't care if you ordered it or not. What you did do is pay for everything, so you either take it or I'll just unload the 60 kegs on the damn street, Mr. Queen."

Oliver let out a deep, frustrated sigh. "Do you know anyone who can install a beer pump for us?"

Two and a half hours later, the unloading was almost done and once again, they'd managed to keep the health inspector away from the foundry.

"Hey, man, don't you have another date tonight?" Tommy asked him while they were hauling another 50 liter keg towards the storage room.

Oliver looked down at his watch. "Shit, I gotta run. You got this?"

Tommy nodded and Oliver bolted for where he'd parked his bike earlier. Except, it wasn't there anymore.

"Hey Tommy," he called back towards the club. "Did you move my bike?"

"What? No, of course, I didn't." Tommy emerged from the club entrance.

"Look, I'm already running late. Can I just take your car?"

"Sure thing. Don't scratch it though," he teased and tossed Oliver his keys.

After arriving home, he showered in record time and was bolting down the main staircase of the mansion, when he registered his mother's voice.

"You're late," she remarked disapprovingly. "Our guests are already here."

"I know, I'm so sorry. I'll be on my wa... wait what? Our guests are here? I thought I was going on another date?" he asked, confusion written all over his face.

"You are going on another date. It'll be here and I'll join you," Moira explained calmly.

"You... you'll be chaperoning me? Look mom, I know that you weren't happy about my last date but this this a little over the top, don't you think?" Oliver quickly tried to amend.

His mother stepped closer and straightened his tie. "I'm merely here to introduce you to the woman. Her mother and I go way back and have a few things we'd like to discuss while you have dinner."

Oliver nodded in defeat and let his mother drag him towards the dining room. This day had already been shitty enough, couldn't get much worse now.

"Good evening, ladies. I'm so sorry I'm late but we had some trouble at the..." He turned towards the two women, stopping dead in his tracks. "...club."

In front of him stood none other than Felicity. The same Felicity who'd apparently managed to make his week a living hell.

To his surprise, she didn't mirror his shock, but he quickly realized that she'd probably already had some time to digest the information. That, or she'd known all along that they'd be forced to have dinner together, which would somehow make the past week even worse.

He plastered on a fake smile and moved to shake Felicity's mother's hand. "Good evening, I'm Oliver."

"Diane Smoak, it's very nice too meet you, Oliver. You're mother has told me a lot about you," she turned towards Felicity. "And this is my daughter Felicity."

He stepped in front of her and held out his hand. She shook it after hesitating for one second. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Felicity. Please excuse my tardiness, I shouldn't have kept you waiting."

She gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Don't worry about it. I hope you didn't have too much trouble at your club."

"Not at all," he lied smoothly. "Just a miscommunication with a vendor. It was all resolved quickly, but then I seem to have misplaced my bike."

He turned to his mother and her friend, catching them shoot each other meaningful glances. "May I get everybody a drink before dinner?"

She hummed in response while their mothers moved towards the bar. "I'd check the police impound," she said in passing, so only he could hear her.

That smug bitch.

The conversation was light enough while everybody sipped on their drinks, small talk dominating the room. When Raisa came in to inform them that dinner was ready to be served, Moira and Diane moved towards the doors.

"We'll leave the two of you to it then. Have fun," Diane said, while following Moira who closed the door behind them.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked through gritted teeth.

She merely raised an eyebrow at his little outburst. "It looks like I'm supposed to have dinner with you," she replied and moved over to the dinner table to sit down.

"You got some nerve showing up here after all the shit you pulled this week," he growled.

She ignored him and instead moved to pour herself a glass of red wine. She took a long sip and sat back in her chair. "No idea what you're talking about."

"Cut the crap. You know exactly what I'm talking about. You basically just confessed to it," he accused and moved to sit on the other side of the table.

"Actually, I just made a suggestion," she said sweetly.

Two servants came in and plates with salad were placed in front of them, effectively interrupting the conversation.

"Ooh, this looks good. I hope there are no nuts in there, otherwise..." she made a cutting motion over her throat with her hand.

"Well, that would solve some problems," Oliver muttered under his breath.

She cocked her head to the side while placing the napkin on her lap. "Aren't you the epitome of charm tonight." She picked at her plate for a few seconds. "So I assume that you're also clueless as to why we're doing this?"

He regarded her for a while, before sighing. "No idea, but I have a bad feeling about this."

"Again with the charm. You're on a roll, Queen."

They ate in silence for the next five minutes.

Something was up, he thought wryly. His mother had set up some weird dates in the past few months put this one kind of took the cake.

It had taken him a few minutes to connect the dots but now he remembered why the name Smoak sounded so familiar. SmoakSolutions specialized in IT stuff as far as he knew and was another one of Starling City's Fortune 500 companies.

That actually raised an interesting question: why was Felicity working for QC and not her family's company which should naturally offer her more opportunities to put her obvious skills to good use? QC only had a small IT department that was more involved with maintaining the on-site software and hardware than developing actual new products. Maybe she was spying on his family's company.

He looked up from his plate and took a moment to study her. Contrary to their encounters on Monday, today she didn't wear her blonde hair in a tight ponytail. She was wearing it down, light curls framing her face. Once every so often she would bring up her hands and try to secure the locks behind her ear but they always found a way back down.

At some point, the servants had brought the main dish out and he was currently witnessing that this woman could eat. He hadn't even touched his plate and she had already finished hers halfway. He quickly cast his eyes down when her lips wrapped around the piece of meat she'd spiked on her fork. How could that simple act even look sexy?

She was wearing a navy blue cocktail dress that was hugging her body in just the right way, accentuating her curves perfectly. He noticed that she was wearing only the barest minimum of make-up and almost no jewelry, nothing of value anyways.

He was still staring at her when she suddenly looked up, leaving him no time to avert his gaze.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked hastily. "Is there something in my teeth? Did I spill something on my dress? Oh God, I did, didn't I? I swear I'm the worst klutz."

Oliver snorted. "Yeah, I can personally attest to that."

She shot him a glare. "Watch it, mister. You wouldn't want photos of you pushing around a baby stroller surfacing on the internet. Even though that would conclude your recent scandal very nicely."

He merely smirked at her in response. There was apparently more to Felicity Smoak than met the eye. She could be the shy insecure young woman or the almost cocky, confident computer whiz. Interesting.

"Stop looking at me, you're totally creeping me out," she groaned, shooting him another angry glare.

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a half smile. "Just admiring the view."

He instantly wanted to slap himself. Who the hell said something like that? He shouldn't even compliment her and rather focus on the fact the she'd totally fucked up his week with her hacking spree. But to his surprise, his lame comment made her cheeks turn rosy and she quickly focused her eyes on something in her lap, stoically avoiding eye contact.

This woman really was full of surprises.

Before he could dwell on her reaction any longer, the doors opened and their mothers walked in.

"We thought we'd join you for dessert. That'll give us a chance to talk to you two," Moira explained when she saw Oliver's confused look.

"Did you get the chance to talk a little bit?" Diane asked, coming up behind Felicity's chair and placing a hand on her bare shoulder. Oliver registered how she flinched away ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow but didn't question her reaction.

"Sure," the blonde mumbled in reply. "Oliver's a total gentleman."

He cleared his throat. "And your daughter, Mrs. Smoak, is a wonderful woman," he said, lacing his tone with enough admiration to make it sound like they'd actually gotten to know each other and had not just sat there mostly in silence, shooting death glares at each other.

"Well, that's definitely a relief and will hopefully make this easier."

"Make what easier?" Oliver questioned cautiously.

Moira looked at her friend and after her nod of confirmation, she turned back to her son. "You two are going to marry each other."

- End of flashback -

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The snap of her fingers pulled him out of this memory. She stood a few feet away from him, head tilted lightly to the side with a curious frown on her forehead.

"Are you done daydreaming?"

"Are you done acting like a bitch?" he countered without missing a beat.

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, an unspoken challenge glinting in her eyes. "Nope, still looking forward to getting lucky tonight."

Hearing her words made something snap all over again in his head. In one long stride he ate up the distance between them and crashed his mouth down on hers, holding her head steady with his hands.

For a moment her whole body went still but then her hands were on his chest and he thought for sure that she would push him away. But once again, she surprised him when she fisted the material of his shirt and drew him even closer, answering his angry kisses with just as much ferocity.

He could count the times that he kissed her on one hand. They'd all happened in public when it was expected of them. They'd all been more reminiscent of short pecks on the lips.

This was completely different. This was months of pent-up anger and frustration coming to a head.

Her hands had found their way to the nape of his neck, tugging hard on his hair. But he was only fired on by the delicious pain it caused him. One of his hands moved from her face over her shoulder, down her back until it cupped her ass. He massaged her perfectly formed behind and brought down his second hand when she moaned loudly in response.

She nipped at his bottom lip, provoking a low groan from him. Her tongue immediately darted out to sooth the pain, flicking over his lightly swollen lips.

God, this woman would be the death of him.

He backed her against the door again, trapping her body with his. But even that wasn't enough. His hands crept lower, down to the hem of her dress, pushing it up further.

He needed her closer, wanted to feel her body pressed to his. His hands found the back of her thighs and lifted her up with no effort.

He couldn't suppress the loud moan that escaped his mouth when she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass, while her hips moved sensuously against his growing erection.

If she kept that up, this session would end embarrassingly quickly, he thought and pushed one of his hands between their bodies, sneaking its way under the material of her dress and finding the flimsy fabric of her underwear.

Her hands weren't idle either. After one last hard yank on his hair, she moved down to tug his shirt out of his pants. Soon enough, restless fingers found their way under his shirt, flitting over every inch of his stomach and chest, her finger nails scratching lightly over his skin.

She moaned loudly when his fingers skimmed over the wet center of her lace thong. Oliver tore his lips away from hers and refocused his attention on her neck. Nipping at her smooth skin with his teeth before soothing the pain with relentless strokes of his tongue.

"ты моя ," he mumbled against her skin at the same moment that he plunged one long finger into her.

Her body instinctively bucked into his hand, willing him to move with the roll of her hip, while her mouth found his shoulder, biting down through the fabric of his shirt in a vain attempt to stifle her loud moan.

One of her hands found the nape of his neck again, scratching over his scalp, while her other hand drifted lower on his stomach until she found the waistband of his pants.

"ты моя," he growled over and over again with every thrust of his finger.

He could tell she was close to the edge by how her fingers lost all sense of coordination when she was fumbling with his belt and the button of his pants. Just when she finally managed to slide her hand into his pants, cupping his erection through his boxer briefs with her small hand, a shrill ring tone made both of them stop dead in their tracks.

Still breathing heavily, she let her head fall back against the door behind her. She let go of his erection and braced both of her hands flat on his chest, heat spreading from them like a wildfire.

The reality of the situation suddenly crashed into him. He pulled his finger out of her wet confines, ignoring the almost inaudible whimper she let out at the loss of contact. He sat her back down on shaky legs, pressing his body into hers against the door for a full minute until he was sure she could stand on her own.

When both of their breathing had slowed down, he finally turned his head to look at her. A million different emotions were swirling through her blue orbs.

It took him another long moment to eventually take a step back. He raked a hand through his short hair, trying not to remember the feeling of her delicate fingers on his skin.

This wasn't supposed to happen. They hated each other.

Right?

He shook his head slightly in an attempt to clear his mind. "This... was a mistake," he whispered.

It was the quick flash of pure hurt and surprise crossing her face that made him reconsider his assessment. He could actually see how she pushed all those conflicting feelings away and put a mask of indifference in their place.

She nodded jerkily, straightened her rumpled clothes and hair before turning towards the door. When her hand landed on the door handle, she turned back around, her facial expression closed off as usual.

"Oh by the way," she looked down at his pants that were still undone. "The tabloids had me believing you'd be a big boy. I'm a little disappointed."

Before he could counter anything, the door had already shut behind her.

Once again, he shook his head, a little disbelieving smile playing on his lips. Only Felicity would take a moment to insult him after what had just happened.

He quickly got his clothes back in order and reached for his cell phone, the same one that had interrupted them a few minutes earlier. He sighed when he saw what time it was. He'd planned to meet Diggle down in the foundry half an hour ago which is probably why he called.

He quickly dialed his number. "Hey, Digg, I'm on my way now."

"Actually, I wanted to tell you that I'm not coming. Carly is sick and asked me if A.J. could stay at my place for the weekend so he won't catch whatever she has," Diggle said apologetically.

"No problem, I'll go out alone. Did you finish the research on the next target?"

"That's actually one thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"What's up?"

"I think we crossed off most, if not all, of the smaller targets on the list. The ones we could easily find information on, even with our limited computer skills, but I definitely reached the end of my rope here. To find useful information on the bigger fish, that isn't heavily redacted or encrypted, we need help from someone who can circumvent those obstacles." Diggle sighed and continued cautiously, "Luckily, we know someone who could help with all that."

Oliver growled. "No, I'm not pulling her into this."

"She's the best and you know it."

"I'm not putting her in danger."

Diggle let out a chuckle. "And you were trying to convince me that you don't care about her."

"Diggle," Oliver warned.

"Right, look, we can keep her away from the dangerous part. You could contact her as The Hood and ask her for help. If she can put together information packages on the targets we can handle the rest without letting her anywhere close to the action."

Oliver considered his friends idea for a moment. Yes, Felicity was definitely the best he knew when it came to everything computer related but could he bring her in on his crusade? Could he mix his two lives like that?

"Just think about it, man," Diggle encouraged him. "I gotta go check on A.J., see you on Monday."

Oliver bid his friend goodbye and leaned against the wall. This could possibly change everything. He wanted to make progress on the list but at what cost?

Diggle was right. They'd caught all the smaller fish from the list, skipping more prominent names in the progress whenever they hit a dead end during their research.

He could still go after them and try to scare information out of them but there were no guarantees that that would get him anywhere. It had been nine months of crossing names off the list, and yet he still had no idea what connected them all, apart from being members of Starling City's elite. He still didn't know what wrongs his father wanted him to right. This couldn't all be about companies embezzling money or business men making other questionable choices, could it?

With those thoughts in mind he made his way down to the foundry. Even if he didn't have a specific target, he could still go out and keep an eye on what was happening in the city.

His phone chimed, indicating a new email. When he swiped over his phone, he realized that it wasn't just one but two dozen emails. All of them offering him different pills, creams or surgeries to "lengthen his length", as well as some invitations to support groups for men "with other qualities".

He barked out a disbelieving laugh. God, that woman was unbelievable.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

He finally went home when the sun was almost coming up. He'd worked out and patrolled the city all night, stopping a few muggings and car-jackings from happening. When he pulled up in front of the mansion on his bike, he saw an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway.

Maybe Thea was having some friends sleep over. As long as it wasn't Roy, he didn't care.

He quietly made his way through the dark corridors of the mansion towards the east wing. When he rounded the last corner, laughter drifted through the deserted hallway. Suddenly, a door was yanked open and he quickly stepped back around the corner.

"You know you could totally stay, right." Felicity's voice carried over to where he was hidden in the darkness.

A man laughed. "Yeah, no, I think I'd rather leave."

"Afraid I'll steal the blanket during the night?" He could hear the amusement in her voice.

"While we both know that that happens every single time we share a bed, that's not the reason," the man countered teasingly.

"Then what is?"

"Your husband. I'm pretty sure he'd kill me if he saw me here." He was interrupted by a snort.

"Oh please, my dearest husband doesn't give a flying shit about what I do," Felicity scoffed.

"Still," the man insisted. "I better get going. But, Lis, this was the best night in a long time. I forgot how good you were at this."

"Ha! I told you to never underestimate the sheer talent of my fingers," she teased. "But I gotta admit that you've gotten better over the years. That one trick you showed me totally rocked my world. I never even knew I could do that."

The man laughed again. "Well, I had to do something against your talented little fingers before they finished me for good."

"And don't you forget it," Felicity giggled. "Come on, I'll show you out."

They passed the nook that Oliver was hidden in without spotting him. His breath halted for a moment when he saw who the man was.

Wannabe McConaughey.

Oliver felt his heart sink. She'd actually taken another man home.

She'd cheated on him in his own fucking house. On his birthday.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

A/N: What do you guys think? Let me know if you liked it and what you think will happen next.

Just on a side note, I used Google translator for the Russian tidbit and it's supposed to mean "You're mine", so blame Google if it's wrong ;)