Hi Everyone! First of all, I have to give a huge shout out for Hip Karma who offered me to help with my story, and I couldn't be more thankful for the amount of work she did. Everyone should thank her for correcting my not so slightly bumpy English.

Thanks for all the comments as well, they mean a lot to me.

Hope you all enjoy reading this chapter, too!

REPLY FOR GUEST REVIEWS (I can only answer to those who leave a name as well):

mp: Thank you, I hope you enjoy the next chapter as well :)

It was late afternoon when the realization hit me. What the heck was I doing? How could I agree to meet someone who was a stranger. I wasn't even sure anymore if the man on the phone was who he claimed to be. What if this was a trap? What if he – whether he was Bruce Wayne, or not - was actually a serial killer. I couldn't believe how irresponsible I was.

With a frustrated growl, I cursed myself for being so thoughtless. What was it with me and billionaire playboys that tend to make me act like a fan girl? Oh, maybe that they were billionaire playboys.

My anxiety grew as the time passed by slowly. I was tapping my fingers on the table, biting my bottom lip nervously. What should I do now, the question kept going around and around in my head. I had to track his phone, see who it belonged to. I should have thought of this before. However, sometimes the easiest way was the hardest to find.

I pulled my laptop to my lap, and following that line of thought, I went for the most obvious version of seeing who owned a phone number, and checked the online telephone directory. I couldn't say I wasn't surprised when there was a match for the number. One would think that someone like Bruce Wayne would keep his phone number as a secret, and smartly away from the mass.

I looked at the name that popped up on the screen, and noted the name wasn't the one I was hoping for unless Alfred Pennyworth was an alias of Mr. Wayne. Many rich people used fake names, and Bruce Wayne didn't seem to be the type who would go for something like Pocahontas.

My curiosity, and concern for my safety of course, made me move forward with my background checking. I had to figure out who this Alfred was, if it was a fake name, or if he was indeed a serial killer, maybe another not so dead friend of Oliver from the island who thought it would be fun to kidnap the blonde IT girl.

I googled the name, and the answer wasn't scary, or fake at all. This Alfred was Mr. Wayne's butler. How strange, not even the Queens had one. The man had been by his side since he was a kid as far as I could tell. He had a kind face in the few paparazzi photos where he appeared next to his boss.

This made me feel a little bit less paranoid. He must have done this because he didn't want everyone to know that he was in the city. There might be a chance that he wasn't a serial killer trying to take my life slowly or painfully.

My mind was still running crazy circles about a related topic. What did he want from me? Why did someone like Bruce Wayne want to meet me? Did this have anything to do with how Oliver lost Queen Consolidated? But then if that was the case, he wouldn't want to consult with me but with Oliver, or someone else from the company who was more competent in the question.

There was tiny part of me that hoped maybe he was in need of technical support. I might have been naive about it but it was still a possibility. I was a great employee after all as long as we didn't consider my personal assistant role as I was anything but perfect in that.

I was so lost in my thoughts, and countering the possibilities that I almost jumped out of my skin when someone knocked on the door. I glanced at the clock on my fireplace, and saw that it was already 7 pm, my ride had arrived. I stood up, starting towards the door only to stop in midway, wondering if I should just pretend that I wasn't home. I considered all of my options again, and decided that I was being paranoid because of how my life turned rather horrorish in the last two years. I had to stop thinking of everyone as an enemy, or a possible psycho. There must be normal people left in the world.

"Good evening, Miss Smoak," a man greeted me, holding two boxes in his hands. He must have been in his mid thirties, wearing black suit, black tie, and white shirt with a black hat on his head, the typical car driver stuff. For a second I imagined Diggle in the same type of clothes, with the hat on his head, and almost laughed out. I wish I could see his face if he had to do that. "Your dress, and shoes, Miss."

"Thank you," I smiled at him nervously, taking the boxes from him. "Erm, would you like to come in? Have a coffee maybe?" I would never in my life know what was the appropriate way of acting around employees like myself.

I saw Mrs. Carpenter peeking out from behind her curtains on the other side of the street. I waved to her, rolling my eyes. That nosy old woman always kept her eyes on me like she was some kind of prison guard. Of course I knew that it wasn't an average thing to have a black limousine standing in our street but that didn't mean she had to go all NSA on me.

"Thank you, Miss but I'll wait for you in the limousine," he nodded to me before turning to walk back to the car.

I sighed, chewing on my bottom lip, left alone with my thoughts again. I closed the door, and placed the boxes on the couch. I was standing above them like they contained some kind of explosive substance. I shook my head mentally, deciding that I couldn't be a coward about this, and let my dark, disturbed imagination get the best of me.

If anything happened, I could reach Diggle with a single button on my phone, so there was no reason for me to think I was in danger. I would be saved if anything went wrong.

First I opened the box with the dress in it, and almost fainted. Sweet Lord, it was a deep sea blue Chanel Couture dress with black lace all over it, very simple but also very elegant. I wasn't even surprised that the dress was of course couture. I reached for the other box, playing a game in my head if I could guess the designer. I took the beautiful pair of shoes out – matching the colour of the dress -, seeing that it was Jimmy Choo, what else? There was one more thing, an Armani clutch, of course the same colour as the dress and the shoes.

I should leave a message to Diggle, if I died, I wanted them to bury me in these. I might be a geek but I was also a woman, and loved designer clothes. Queen Consolidated paid me well, but I couldn't afford a couture dress and accessories.

The size was perfect, both the shoes and the dress. I was still wondering how Bruce Wayne knew this information about me. My paranoid part kept coming back from the back of my mind, and whispered terrifying ideas to me. But I made up my mind, and I was going through with this.

I put on the dress, slipped my feet into my Jimmy Choos and admired the look in front of the huge mirror in my living room. The dress not only fitted my body perfectly but also matched the colour of my eyes, making them look even brighter blue than usual.

In the bathroom I applied some light make up, only very basic things such as eyeliner and mascara, making my eyes even more outstanding. I decided to wear my hair down and leave it slightly curly at the ends. A little bit of a pink blush on my cheeks face and I was as ready as I'd ever be.

I never understood what took so long for women to get ready but then I guess I was happy that my hair was easy to handle, and always looked the way I wanted it to so I didn't have to bother much with it.

I grabbed the clutch, and looked at myself one more time in the mirror. I felt like I just walked out of Milan fashion week. With a deep breath, I nodded to myself, and started out. Everything was going to be alright

As we rode through the city, I stared out of the car window. I always found it strange how different everything looked from limousines. It was like I entered a different world, an alternative universe. I often wondered if this was the way high society people saw the world. Did they really not know about the troubles of the people who lived just a tiny reach away from them?

Lost in my thoughts I only realized the car stopped when the driver opened the door for me. I tried my best to get out as elegantly as possible which of course was a rather difficult task in a short dress but I managed more or less. I glanced around, my breath caught in my throat, my heart pounding in my chest so loud that I could swear I heard it.

I wasn't at a fancy restaurant as expected but in front of a rather haunted looking skyscraper in the business district of the city, not too far away from Queen Consolidated. If this wasn't creepy than nothing in the world was. I clutched my clutch –what a descriptive word for a handbag- harder as I stared up to the top of the building.

"You may go in, Miss Smoak," the driver smiled at me reassuringly but it didn't help my anxiety. I started to feel slightly nauseous.

I shook myself mentally, and started towards the entrance. I immediately recognized the man who waited for me at the door. It was Alfred, the butler. I found it a bit odd that he was there as butlers can usually be found at homes, and I suspected Bruce Wayne wasn't living in the office building but then, I've heard stranger things before.

"Good evening, Miss Smoak," he offered me a kind smile, his voice, warm and soothing helped a little with my rapidly growing paranoia.

"Good evening," I replied, trying to force out an honest smile but with my nerves being as thin as they were, I wasn't sure if it worked.

"Please, follow me. Mr. Wayne is waiting for you," he said, heading towards the elevator. I hoped this wouldn't end up with me being thrown out from the top of the skyscraper.

I was on the edge of my nerves as Alfred pushed button 51, the top floor. Where else could we go? Not everyone lived their lives in the basement after all. Though, to be fair, I'd have preferred a nice basement, most likely even an underground cave would have been better than being that high above the ground.

"You've worked for Mr. Wayne for quite a long time... considering you've known him since the day he was born, I guess we can say that's a long time..." I rambled, trying to break the silence before I could have a panic attack, and beg for this man to let me go away.

"Yes, Miss Smoak, your information is correct," he nodded, watching the light going from one number to the other on the elevators keypad.

"I see... So you'd know if he was... for example a serial killer, right?" I knew it was silly of me to think he would tell me if his boss was Hannibal Lecter but I was too nervous to think of rational things such as the loyalty of an employee.

"That is also correct," he nodded, amusement hiding in his voice. I could understand why he thought it to be entertaining that I asked such question, still, I had an odd feeling that there was something more to this than my silly interrogation.

"But he isn't, right?" I asked, just realizing for all I knew he could be involved in the killings as well.

"You're going to be in good hands, Miss," he smiled at me as we arrived at our destination, and the door opened in front of us.

Bruce Wayne was standing there in all of his possible serial killer glory. I had to admit he looked even more handsome in person than on the TV, and the magazines. He was so tall I thought my neck would get an ache if I had to stand in front of him for too long. There was something about him, something that I couldn't put my finger on just yet but it was in the air all around him.

"Good evening, Miss Smoak," he smiled at me, placing a soft kiss to the top of my hand, making me shiver from head to toe. However, the reason for the reaction of my body wasn't the slight touch of his lips but those blue eyes.

As our eyes met, I felt as if I had seen this look before. I couldn't help but think there was more to this man than his millions, or his charm, something deeper, something almost untouchable.

"Hey Dig," I walked into the lair, dropping my jacket to the table. Unlike the previous lair under the club this place was lacking quite a few things such as comfortable chairs, normal tables, or any of the professional machines we had there. Unfortunately, with losing the company we couldn't afford anything at the moment.

"Hey," he waved to me, digging into his Chinese. The TV was on but there was uncharacteristic silence in the place. I looked around and I couldn't see the blonde head I was looking for anywhere.

It was a long day with training Laurel first then having a meeting with Walter, and trying to figure out if it was even worth throwing a party to try and get the company back. The numbers were definitely against me. No one seemed to trust me, or my judgement after handing the company over to Isabel.

I just wanted to come back here, and spend some time with my friends but Felicity was still nowhere to be seen. That was strange as she tended to spend her nights here with Diggle and me.

"Where is Felicity?" I asked, sitting across from Diggle who suddenly wanted to look lost in the land of wrestling but I wasn't buying it.

"She isn't here," he shrugged slightly, stuffing more food into his mouth, still concentrating on the screen in front of him.

"I figured that much. But where is she?" I didn't understand why he didn't want to tell me where she was. If she decided to have an early night and go home that was fine by me. I wouldn't be happy if she went home alone but it wouldn't be the end of the world. I'd just tell her not to do it again.

"She's out," he said, slowly finishing the remains of his dinner. I started to get frustrated with his answers. Was he trying to hide something? Was she in trouble?

"Where is she, Diggle?" I asked, my voice just starting to turn annoyed as I watched him taking a sip of Coke from the bottle next to him on the ground.

"She's... she's at a meeting," he answered, switching from channel to the other. What kind of meeting at this time of the day? Was it something at the company and she didn't want me to stress about it?

"A meeting with who? Could you just tell me without me having to try and pull every word out of you?" If she was in trouble I had to know, maybe I could help in some way.

"She's meeting with Bruce Wayne," Diggle said finally, turning his eyes to me, watching me closely. My fist tightened as I heard the name. What would Bruce want with her? And what was she even thinking when she agreed to meet him? "Oliver?"

"Why didn't you stop her?" I raised my voice as I stood up, staring at him in disbelief. What was he even thinking? Bruce was going to eat her alive. She shouldn't be in touch with people like him.

"Because she's a grown woman, and as such she can't be told what to do," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Then you should have called me right away, and let me know what she was up to," I growled, not believing Dig didn't see how bad it could turn out if she mingled with those sort of people. "Where are they?"

"I don't know, Oliver, somewhere having dinner," he replied in an irritated voice. That was rich, he was the one annoyed when he let Felicity to walk into the arms of Bruce Wayne. He should have known better. "I don't even see what your problem is."

"I know him too well, that's my problem," I groaned. My mind was racing crazily. Felicity alone with Bruce, that was bad, worse than bad.

"Felicity is a big girl, have a little faith in her man. She isn't a pushover," Diggle said, trying to cool me down but it wasn't working. Felicity should have nothing to do with Bruce.

"Her phone has a GPS app, we can track her down," I said, pacing up and down in the small place. That was it, we were going to track her down, and I was going there.

"Oh, if you want to do that, fine. But I'm not helping you. I don't even want to know about it," he stated, reaching for his suit, ready to take off. That was alright, I could do this alone.

"Fine, go then. Have a good night," I shrugged, sitting in front of the laptop that Felicity brought a few a days ago from her own collection.

"I hope you realize this is a very bad idea man," Diggle said as he watched me typing away.

"Good night," I growled, frustrated by the slow connection, and the slow machine. I didn't want Felicity to spend one more minute with Bruce than was necessary.

"I hope you know what you are doing," he said before closing the door behind him.

Yes, I knew what I was doing. I was saving Felicity from a disappointment, or from even worse.