“Who do you think you are?” I ask her with a sneer. “Turning up here uninvited and hurling abuse at me. You don’t know the first thing about me,” I snigger. “Oh, but I know all about you. Imogen Hilton, desperate wannabe who will throw herself at someone else’s guy because her daddy tells her to.”
“How dare you talk to me like that,” she snipes, looking at me with abject disgust. “Why don’t you go back to where you came from, you poor little orphan.”
Okay, that did it. I am so done. I pull my arm back and punch her square in the face. She screams and staggers backwards, clutching at her nose. Blood streams from between her hands. “You broke my fucking nose, you psychotic bitch.”
“I’ll break more than your plastic nose if you slag me off again.”
She roars and charges at me and I grab both her arms to stop her scratching at my face. She fights to free her hands, all the while screaming at me. This is one unhinged girl. Trying to stop her assault, I push her with some force and she staggers back. It’s almost like it happens in slow motion. She stumbles and falls backwards into the pool with an almighty splash.
I hear applause from behind me and turn to find Izzy and Molly and the girls clapping and grinning. Imogen comes back up to the surface, coughing and spluttering. All her eye make-up streaks down her face. Owen whistles as he flips his burgers as if there hasn’t just been a showdown right in front of him.
“Burgers are up if anyone’s hungry,” he announces, and as if nothing has happened, and Ben and Jacob rub their hands together and descend like vultures on the hot food.
Grayson comes up behind me and places an arm at my waist. “You okay, Manchester?”
I nod, watching as she angrily stalks to the edge of the pool and climbs out. She points at me, waving her finger, shaking with anger as her other hand clutches at her bloody nose. “You haven’t heard the last of this. You assaulted me, I’ll have you arrested.”
Grayson steps around me and slowly walks towards Imogen. She looks at him tensely as he nears, as if she’s unsure what he will do. He stops right in front of her and he says something to her in a low and quiet voice. So quiet that I can’t make out what he says. Whatever it is, she instantly pales and takes a step backwards. Her chest heaves as she struggles to control her frustration. With one last withering glare my way, she storms out through the side gate of the villa.
Owen breaks the silence with a long, slow whistle. “Damn, Taylor, you throwing that punch was all kinds of hot.”
I chuckle and wink at him.
“He’s right,” Grayson says into my ear as he comes back over to me and wraps his arms around me. “Your violent side gets me horny.”
I cock a brow. “You’re such a typical male.”
“Now if you too had made out after the fight, that would have been the things dreams are made of,” Owen says with a sigh and a cheeky grin.
“Owen!” Izzy growls in exasperation. “You’re such a dirtbag.”
“I’ll tell my sister on you,” Grayson says to Owen with a cunning smile and Owen pales.
“Come on, man. I was just messing. You know I only have eyes for Ems.”
Grayson gives him a pointed look before he turns his attention back to me. “Are you really okay?”
I nod and look up at him. “I’m fine, it’s just words. She’s bitter and jealous.” I smile up at him and he shakes his head, smiling.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re just fucking amazing. If ever there was a girl that was meant for me, it was you. You broke her nose, baby with that punch, I’m super proud.”
I grin at my man. “It was a pretty mean punch, wasn’t it?”
He nods his head. “Remind me never to piss you off. I like my nose how it is.”
The rest of the night passes as if it has never tarnished by the arrival of Imogen Hilton. We eat and drink and then head to the resort to dance and drink some more and we stumble home in the early hours and fall into our beds.
I groan and cover my ears with my arm as Grayson’s phone rings persistently. It’s our fourth day at the villa and we’d all partied hard last night.
‘Grayson,’ I groan, reaching out and hitting his arm to wake him up. ”Shut your damn phone up. My head can’t take it.”
Grayson grumbles and rolls over. How could he sleep through that ringing?
Huffing and puffing, I reach over his body and grab the phone off the bedside table.
“Hello,” I answer gruffly, making no bones about my unhappiness at being woken up at this time of a morning.
“Hello, can I speak to a Mr Grayson St. Clair?”
I sit up straight in bed on hearing the authoritative sounding voice at the other end of the phone.
“Who is this?”
Grayson rubs his eyes and sits up in bed, still half asleep. “Give it here.”
He takes the phone from me, and I lie back down and snuggle into my pillow.
“I’m Grayson,” he tells the man on the phone. “When?” I hear Grayson ask. “I see. Was it self-inflicted?”
I sit up and listen in. Something is wrong.
“I’ll arrange a flight home now. Has anyone spoken to my sister?” He listens to the man and nods his head. “I think I should be the one to tell her. I’ll call her school now. Thank you and I’ll be in touch.”
Grayson puts the phone down and stares into space for a few seconds. “My dad’s dead.”
“What?” I ask, paling.
He turns and looks at me, his face unreadable. “He’s been found dead in his study, with a single gunshot wound to the
