Collide (Collide #1)(32)

"Always hitting the booze, Dickhead...uh, Dillon," Olivia remarked, studying her face in a small compact mirror.

He shot her a blank, frosty smile. "What are you now, my mother?"

Emily let out a deep sigh. "Would you two stop already?"

"She started it."

Reverting to a second-grader's level, Olivia crinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue in Dillon's direction.

Shaking her head, Emily sighed again. "Okay, so how far is his place?"

"It's in East Hampton, so about three hours because of traffic," Olivia replied, getting comfortable and tossing her legs across the leather seat. "But so worth the drive, Em. It's a f*cking paradise right on the beach."

"Are we stopping to pick up Trevor?" Emily asked.

Olivia shook her head. "No, he's helping my parents with some bullshit at their house right now. He'll meet us out there tonight."

"How many people will be there?" Emily probed.

Dillon pulled her across his lap and smiled. "Not that many tonight. It's just his pre-party with a few friends." He took a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. "But tomorrow's a totally different game. There will be over a hundred guests, and each and every single one of them is flowing with money."

Olivia laughed as she looked at Dillon. "Only you would know that since every year you try to gain a new account by snaking your way into some rich bastard's portfolio. I have to admit you work the party like a pro."

His eyes hardened on Olivia, but Emily quickly placed her hand over his mouth to hush him. "You two are done talking for the remainder of the ride."

Over the next few hours, while the anxiety of the weekend steadily built to unbearable heights in her chest, Emily watched as a suburban landscape replaced the disappearing concrete and steel of the city. Mature trees, grass, and smaller-sized homes flew past her peripheral vision, reminding her of where she had grown up. It was something she realized she missed since living in the city.

Eventually, the middle-class pallet melted away as the road shifted to sprawling mansions lining the Atlantic coast. They were the types of homes in which Emily had seen in magazines. Her eyes widened at the absolute beauty of the scenery. Rolling down the window, she deeply inhaled the salty air of the ocean as the chauffeur pulled up to a winding, gated driveway. He spoke with someone over an intercom before the ornate metal gates slowly swung open, allowing the limousine onto the property. Beyond the gates, a sweeping lawn holding lush specimen trees lined the flagstone drive. A garden highlighted the front of the home with flowers of every color imaginable. Large pillars on both sides of the mammoth mahogany entry door caught Emily's gaze. Off to the side were sunken tennis and basketball courts. In the distance, a path from behind the home led to the serene ocean. The water lapping against the sand and the twinkling sun shimmering off of it brought Emily a sense of peace - if only for the barest second.

Olivia chucked a piece of ice at Dillon's face, stirring him from his alcohol-induced nap. She laughed along with Emily, watching him blink his eyes wide open. He then glared at Olivia with a look that promised retaliation in one way or another. With their bags already at his side, the chauffeur smoothly opened the door, and they each stepped out. Dillon stretched his neck from side to side, yawning. He reached in his pocket, patted the driver on his back, and handed him a tip, thanking him for his service.

Looking up to the home, Emily felt awestruck at its size. Albeit astonishing in every way possible, she wondered why one person would need a place of such magnitude. With that fleeting thought, the reason for her newfound anxiety - and her now rapid breathing - stepped out of the front door.