Page 10 of Raise Hell

The temperature in the room drops by a few dozen degrees. My own narrow-eyed gaze rests on his face. I resist the urge to blink even as my eyes burn. “That isn’t your call.”

Cole rests his elbows on the table as he leans forward between us like a referee, lunch forgotten. He seems a touch too eager to see us at odds. His attention shifts to me. “What’s it going to be, prez?”

I am the president of Havoc House. There are no terror campaigns without my say so. Nolan can spout off all he wants, but the others won’t go along unless I give the okay. When I open my mouth to tell him to drop it, movement out of the corner of my eye distracts me.

The dining hall doors fly open with a loud bang.

A momentary hush falls over the entire room. For a split second, it’s quiet enough to hear a pin dropping.

Olivia glides in like a long-lost princess coming home to her adoring subjects. Her head is held high and her gaze seems to take in everyone in the room, while not actually focusing on any of us.

Long blonde hair is caught up in a tight ponytail at the top of her head, the end trailing down her back. Delicate wisps frame her wide, blue eyes and full, pouty lips that would look even pinker wrapped around my dick. It’s the sort of hairstyle that looks effortless but probably took forever to get just right.

She has on an oversized jacket over a skimpy babydoll dress that is somehow sexy and virginal at the same time.

The girl looks amazing.

I loudly clear my throat, and the room returns to its normal noise level. People turn back to their conversations, but more than one gaze lingers on Olivia.

I watch her turn sharply on her heel toward the refrigerated cases full of grab-and-go sandwiches. With her back turned, I notice the words spray-painted in sparkly pink on the black leather of her jacket.

Raise Hell.

With the pink skirt just barely sticking out from beneath the leather jacket and the alluring half-smile on her lips, she looks like innocence wrapped in sin.

Someone who went through what she did can’t possibly be confident enough to face us all down.

But here she is.

It won’t take much for the tide to shift from seeing her as an innocent victim to a desperate whore that got what she deserved. But Olivia doesn’t seem to care as she flashes a smile at whomever she catches staring her down.

Even though I know next to nothing about this girl, it’s obvious that the tiny package contains a much bigger personality. Her presence is explosive and electrifying. I can barely tear my gaze away from her.

An ember burns in my chest, like the start of something new and wild.

I want to tear the clothes off that hot little body.

I want to hurt her.

I want to break her, so I can put her back together again.

I want her to forget that any other guys have ever existed.

I want her.

Badly.

The realization comes with a burst of unwelcome surprise. Before that night, I wouldn’t have been able to pick Olivia Pratt out of a lineup. But this girl, the one striding toward the salad bar like she owns the building, I would have noticed her from a mile away.

It doesn’t matter what she might have been before. Nobody needs to tell me that whoever Olivia is now, she is very dangerous.

When I finally turn away, the others are staring at me.

“Welcome back,” Nolan murmurs sarcastically.

“Shut up.”

I hook my foot on the elevated chair legs and pull. The legs of Nolan’s chair crash down to the floor hard enough that his midsection hits the round edge of the table.

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