Page 14 of Raise Hell

By Christmas, I will be the coolest girl on campus. The one that no one can stop talking about. The one with a free pass into every social circle until I claw my way to the top.

The Havoc Boys have no idea what’s coming for them.

* * *

St.Bart’s campus is like something out of a brochure for rich people’s bullshit. Roman architecture meets ostentatious design features in a way that screams too much old money. I’m glad I decided on boots with a low heel as I trek down the cobblestone pathways toward the main lecture hall.

It wouldn’t do much for my new image if I fall flat on my face on the first day of classes.

A shadow momentarily blots out the sun as someone falls into step beside me. It isn’t a surprise, because I noticed him following me almost as soon as I left the dorm.

“O-li-vi-a. Pratt.”

His voice is like rubbing my cheek against velvet. Smooth and soft, but with a sharp edge. It floats over me, and I suppress a shiver. He pronounces my name in a way that emphasizes each syllable, like it’s more than just a word.

“Drake. Van. Koch. Your name is annoyingly monosyllabic.” I don’t stop walking and barely tilt my head to look at him. Let anyone watching think I don’t consider the new president of Havoc House worthy of my full attention.

“That’s cute.” His tone makes it sound like the exact opposite.

I fight the urge to look at him, but it’s way more difficult than it should be. As much as I want to hate every inch of him, even I have to admit that Drake Van Koch is beyond gorgeous. I know about him what everyone does, that his father is some Dutch diamond baron and his mother is a native South African, supposedly descended from deposed African royalty.

He looks like the kind of guy who is destined to rule the world.

And I can’t fight the impression that, at least at the moment, he most wants to rule me.

Angular jaw sharp enough to cut stone, tanned skin that makes me think of the dark sheen on a lion’s mane. Floppy curls of golden-brown hair flop over his forehead. It looks haphazard, but I’d bet he spent more on that haircut than some people make in a week. His sea-foam green eyes practically glow against the backdrop of his features.

When I look at them, I have the fantastical thought that he can see right through me.

It was those eyes that knocked me off balance in the dining hall. They sucked me in and made me forget for a second why I’m putting up with all of this.

For a flashing moment, I regret that I’m only here for one thing. Revenge.

I can’t let it happen again.

“How long do you think you’re going to last?” he taunts.

I cast him a sunny smile. “Long enough.”

He stiffens at my quick rejoinder. It’s almost as if the kind of guy who has spent his whole life being catered to doesn’t know what to do when someone finally stands up to him.

Drake quickly recovers.

“What’s your game, Pratt?” he asks conversationally.

If I didn’t already know he’s trying to scare me away, his tone sounds almost friendly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Even though the building is just ahead, I know it won’t be that easy to escape him.

I’d been hoping to put off my confrontation with the Havoc Boys for as long as possible. But I didn’t have a choice about backing down when they called me out in the cafeteria.

Drake had been silent then, but he clearly has a lot to say now.

“My dad went to this school, you know. Along with my grandfather and my great-grandfather, plus a few uncles and cousins along the way. All of them were Havoc Boys.”

“I didn’t realize that I scheduled a guided tour when I registered for the semester.” My hands are shoved in the pockets of my jacket and clenched into fists. The rosary in my pocket digs into my palm. It’s the only thing that keeps my hands from shaking. “This has been great and all, but I have places to be.”

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