Page 26 of Raise Hell

“Please don’t tell me the return of…” He glances down at the notepad in his hand, as if reassuring himself of her name. “Olivia Pratt is also a surprise to you.”

Well, shit. “Of course not.”

“Then help me understand why she hasn’t already been dealt with.”

I wince, pushing higher in the bed so I can rest my back against the headboard. Given a choice, I wouldn’t be having this conversation shirtless and in an unmade bed, but there isn’t anything I can do about that now.

It was inevitable that the alumni of Havoc House would hear about Olivia, eventually. She is much too big of a threat to ignore, but I assumed we’d have more time to create a real plan for how to deal with her.

Instead, my father might as well have caught me with my pants down and my dick in my hand.

“We’re working on it,” I tell him. “It’s only been a few days. This kind of thing takes time.”

“I suppose that’s fine, if you really think you’re doing everything you can.”

His voice is clipped, but not precisely angry. We don’t fight. There has never been any yelling or drama. When we’ve butted heads before, my father has always made it clear that we will discuss whatever led to his displeasure and I will take the appropriate actions to amend my behavior.

Conversations with him have gotten easier as I get older. He talks, and I pretend to listen.

I’ve always gotten the impression that my father considers me a sort of project, like a business acquisition he needs to ensure will turn enough profit to justify the initial investment. He has given me every material thing a boy who grew up poor could ever dream of having, but those gifts come with expectations.

Part of me wants to tell him I already managed to get Olivia kicked out of a class, at least for the day, but I know that won’t be good enough. Messing with her like a schoolyard bully isn’t enough to neutralize the threat she poses.

It’s going to take significantly more than that to make him happy.

“I’m handling it,” I say with as much gravity as I can muster while lying half-naked in my own bed. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

“See that I don’t. My blood pressure is high enough as it is.”

Anton Van Koch didn’t make his money, he inherited it. That creates a pressure that people who’ve never been in his position won’t ever understand. Being wealthy isn’t the fulfillment of a dream, it’s an expectation and a responsibility. The only place for a man like him to go is down.

“Olivia won’t be a problem for long,” I promise. “You won’t hear anything about this again.”

“We’re trusting you with this, Drake. Do not let Havoc House down.”

“I understand.”

“Don’t let me down, son.”

Even though I know it’s more than a little condescending, when he calls me son it makes everything about this just a touch easier. If I was only doing all this for myself, I might be able to walk away from all the bullshit.

But I’m a Van Koch, which means I have a responsibility.

“It’s already done.”

“Your Initiation is at stake here.” His gaze is intense even through the computer screen. He stares at me like he’s willing me to understand something he won’t put into words. “Havoc House is for life, but only if you do what is required of you.”

The last thing I need is another lecture about Havoc House. One of the first conversations we had was about how there are only a few hundred Havoc pins in existence. The ones that we wear have been passed down over generations with the intent of keeping our organization elite and exclusive.

The Havoc pin is earned, not inherited.

I’ve considered breaking mine into pieces on more than one occasion.

My father disconnects the call, not bothering with more pleasantries. Judging from the time, he had our little talk squeezed in between calls to Asia. Five minutes was the most we were going to get.

The Initiation. That mythical ceremony that every Havoc Boy takes part in at the end of his senior year, the one that cements our place as members of Havoc House for life. Alumni are extremely tight-lipped about what it entails, like they’re sworn to silence once it’s done.

I collapse back on the bed with an annoyed groan. This was supposed to be my year to finally kick back before real life crashes down on me. I was voted president of Havoc House at the end of last year as a rising senior. I’m on the top of the heap, king of the castle.

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