Collide (Collide, #1)(44)
With a smart-ass smile on his face, Dillon walked over to Olivia, slinging his arm over her shoulder. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite person in the world.”
“Get off me, Douche,” she spat, ducking her smaller frame out from beneath him.
“Dillon’s taking me clothes shopping,” Emily quickly interjected. She curled her arms around Dillon’s stomach and pulled him away. She slipped her feet into her heels. “What are you doing today?”
“I’m finishing up the last of my painting and taking it to the gallery for the show,” she replied as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “You’re still coming, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything, chick.”
“Do you want to come with me tomorrow to get our nails done?” Olivia asked. “I so need a pedicure, too.”
Dillon slid his arm around Emily’s waist, leading her toward the door. “I hate to break up this female conversation, but I have places to take my girlfriend to, Ollie.”
Emily kinked her neck back to look at Olivia. “Yes, Liv, it’s a mani-pedi date. I’ll see you later.”
Olivia shook her head, and watched the two of them walk out of the apartment.
“You know, you really need to stop being such a jerk to her,” Emily said, settling herself into the seat of Dillon’s car. “She’s been nice to you the past few weeks.”
“I’m just kidding around with her, Em.” He closed the door. Emily watched as he made his way around the car and slid into his seat. “She needs to learn how to take a joke,” he said, starting the engine.
“I know, but please—for my sake—just leave her alone, okay?”
Grabbing for her hand, he maneuvered himself into traffic. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave her alone.”
“Thank you.”
He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it. “No problem. Do me a favor though. There’s a file in the backseat. Can you grab it for me?”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for it. After adjusting it over her body again, she glanced down at the file. Her heart skidded across her chest when she saw the name Blake Industries on the top-right corner. Although not graceful by any means, she had somewhat managed to keep her “new friend” from her thoughts the past several weeks, and now out of nowhere, she was essentially holding him in her hands.
“Here,” she said, attempting to hand the file to Dillon.
“Just hang onto it for now. We’re stopping by his penthouse before we go shopping. I have some papers I need him to sign before the weekend’s over.” He laughed, running his hand through his dirty-blonde hair. “He’s a pain in my ass, I have to admit. The motherf*cker’s always adjusting his damn stocks.”
“Oh…well…I’ll just wait in the car while you go up then.” She tried to appear casual as she glanced out the passenger-side window.
“You’re not going to wait in the car. One, it’s going to take a while because I have to go over a few things with him, and two, I want you to see what we will eventually be living in one day. His place is off the hook.”
Emily let out a sigh. Nevertheless, fifteen minutes later, she found herself stepping out of the car in front of the building that housed her worst nightmare and her wettest dream.
After tossing his keys to the valet, Dillon pointed to the top of the massive structure. “You see that?” he asked Emily.
She tilted her head, her eyes following the slender ribbon of blue sky all the way up to the top of the building.
She nodded.
“That’s where he lives like a f*cking king overlooking all of this.” He spread his arms open, gesturing over the Lenox Hill area of the Upper East Side. “One day, we’ll be living like him,” he smiled, placing his hand on the small of her back.
With the tip of his hat, the door attendant greeted them, acknowledging Dillon by his last name like an old friend. When they walked into the Italian Renaissance-style lobby, Emily noticed a few people milling around, swathed in some of the most expensive clothing and jewelry she had ever laid eyes on. Looking down at her summer dress from Walmart and heels from Payless, to say she felt a little out of her comfort zone was an understatement.
The elevator ride up to the seventy-fifth floor was torturous for her. When she heard the cheerful ding before the doors slid open, she wanted to melt into the walls and camouflage herself into the grains of the wood. The long walk down to the end of the hall had her feeling as if she was a bloody piece of meat suddenly cast out into a sea of awaiting sharks.
One particular shark that is.
As they approached the door, Emily wiped her hand across her now sweat-beaded forehead, her heart drumming in her chest erratically.
Dillon gave a quick knock, and after what felt like forever, it opened. Behind it stood a buxom redheaded bombshell. Other than her smile, she was wearing nothing but pink-laced panties and a matching bra hidden beneath one of Gavin’s white button-down shirts.
Unbuttoned nonetheless.
“Wow, you look great.” Dillon beamed a smile at the woman, but it quickly dropped when Emily shot him a look.
“Hey, Dillon,” the woman rasped, pulling him in for a hug. “Like, seriously, long time no see.”
Crossing her arms, Emily shifted in her heels and plastered a smile across her face.