Eighteen Below Him
Samira James has two weeks left.
Two weeks until she turns eighteen.
Two weeks until everything changes.
And a few months left trapped in high school with the boy she hates most.
Calvin Simms has been her enemy for as long as she can remember. Popular, untouchable, and the living reminder of a childhood misunderstanding neither of them ever corrected. Their interactions are sharp, heated, and carefully controlled.
Until they aren't.
As months pass, tension replaces silence.
Jealousy replaces indifference.
And lines blur where hatred once lived.
With rivals watching, secrets resurfacing, and temptation growing harder to ignore, Samira must decide if sticking to her rules is worth denying what her body and her heart are already choosing.
Because some mistakes feel too good to stop.
And sometimes...
you don't fall for the person you want.
You fall for the one you swore to hate.
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Chapter 3
Samira's POV
Mondays were always the worst, but today felt personal.
I pushed through the sliding doors of Saint Trenton High, my backpack snug against my shoulder, and immediately saw him.
Why is he everywhere lately?
Of course he had to be leaning casually against his locker, talking to Frederick, Denver, and Chris as if they owned the hallways. His raven hair fell perfectly over his forehead, and he was smirking at something Chris said. He looked effortless, untouchable, and infuriating.
I groaned under my breath and adjusted my bag strap. Two weeks until my birthday. Two weeks to make my plan real. And yet I was stuck in the same hall with the one person who made me want to tear my hair out.
"Morning, Sam!" Novia's voice cut through my internal panic.
I forced a smile. "Morning."
Amanda tugged at my sleeve, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Did you see him yet?"
"Yes. I saw him. And yes, I still hate him." I muttered.
Novia smirked. "Hate is a strong word for someone you cannot stop noticing."
I rolled my eyes and stepped aside to avoid a rushing freshman. Observing Calvin Simms from a safe distance was purely scientific. At least, that was the lie I was telling myself. Actually, I was perfectly fine before they suggested him as the perfect candidate.
Still, I could not help it. There was something about the way he carried himself, calm and confident with a quiet danger hidden in his relaxed posture, that made him impossible to ignore. He made it far too easy to notice him.
I shoved the thought away and made my way to Advanced English. Mrs. Huntington was calling roll, and the room buzzed with whispers about last weekend's football game and fresh gossip about Ashley Johnson's latest scheme.
Ashley. Perfectly curled hair, a designer bag swinging from her shoulder, and a smile sharp enough to cut glass. She spotted me, and her expression shifted instantly. Her hatred mirrored mine perfectly.
I ignored her and sank into my seat, hoping to blend into the background. She continued whispering to her friends, tapping her manicured nails and plotting. I looked out the window, letting the slow drift of the clouds draw my attention.
My heart skipped a beat. Calvin had walked in with his friends. He scanned the room, and then his gaze landed on me.
Great. Fantastic.
I shoved a pencil into my bag and tried to focus on Mrs. Huntington's lecture about symbolism in Romeo and Juliet. Classic tragic lovers doomed by hate and circumstance. How original.
"Samira." Mrs. Huntington called.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Read the passage aloud."
I cleared my throat and walked to the front of the room. Calvin's gaze followed me, unwavering and heavy. I refused to meet his eyes. From their desks, Novia and Amanda gave me subtle gestures, reminding me to stay calm and follow the plan.
I read the passage steadily, even as my mind screamed to glare at him, storm off, or throw the book across the room.
"Very good. Sit down."
I returned to my seat, my cheeks warm. Calvin's eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary. Then he looked away as if nothing had happened at all.
The day dragged. Math, history, and chemistry each passed with stolen glances and whispered comments. Denver passed by, grinning. Chris waved at Novia. Frederick laughed at Calvin's joke. I sat in the corner of the cafeteria, burrito in hand, plotting my escape before Ashley could try to corner me again.
By third period, the halls were alive with chaos. Lockers slammed, friends yelled across the corridors, and Calvin's crew strolled past like they owned every tile on the floor.
I tried to walk straight toward my locker when Ashley Johnson blocked my path, arms crossed over her chest.
"Look who it is." she purred.
I raised an eyebrow, matching her tone. "Ashley. Always a pleasure."
She smirked. "I hope you survive senior year without collapsing under the pressure. You do know about the senior party, right?"
I ignored her jab and fumbled with my locker combination. "Not interested."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Everyone is curious, especially Calvin Simms."
I could tell she was fishing for a reaction.
"What should I do with that information?" I asked, leaning forward slightly.
"Oh, you know." she said, stepping back with a fake smirk. "We all know you only pretend to hate him." Her minions laughed right on cue. "He will always choose me."
I slammed my locker shut. "Cute. You really need a hobby, Ashley."
Before she could respond, Calvin and his friends appeared at the other end of the hall. I froze.
"Hey, ladies." Denver said, nudging Frederick. Chris smirked at Novia and Amanda as they walked over to stand with me.
Calvin stopped, his gaze locking on me as if he could read every one of my thoughts. I looked down, pretending to tie my shoe, though no one was fooled. By the time I looked up, the crew had disappeared.
Ashley raised an eyebrow, clearly upset that his attention had not been on her, and walked off down the hall.
Novia nudged me. "Smooth, Sam. He definitely saw you."
"I did not. He did not. Novia, stop!" I hissed, shoving her lightly.
Amanda giggled. "Sure, Sam. Keep telling yourself that."
"He seemed distracted in English." Novia jeered.
My stomach twisted. "Distracted? By what?"
I wondered if they had noticed the same tension I felt. The hallway erupted again, and I hurried to class, hoping the next period would feel normal. It never did.
Lunch ended, and I found myself in English again, this time partnered with Calvin for a project. Fantastic. My plan to avoid him had failed miserably.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and eyes sharp. "Don't waste my time, Sam."
I rolled my eyes. "Please. You look like you are waiting for me to mess up."
He smirked, that infuriating, arrogant smirk. I fought the urge to punch him and grabbed my notebook instead. The assignment was to analyze the themes in Romeo and Juliet.
"What is your take?" he asked, leaning closer than necessary.
"Sometimes people hate each other so much they cannot see what is right in front of them." I cleared my throat, trying to sound professional.
His smirk faltered briefly. "Cute. Very literary."
"Shut up." I muttered.
We spent the next thirty minutes silently competing. Every glance, sigh, and correction became a small battle. Every movement twisted my stomach in ways I refused to admit. By the time class ended, I was mentally drained and emotionally furious.
"Good luck surviving the rest of the day." Novia whispered as we exited the room.
"I will survive." I muttered, ignoring the flutter in my chest when Calvin's gaze lingered a fraction too long as I walked away.
Then came the announcement I had hoped to avoid.
"Attention, students." the PA crackled. "The senior party will be hosted at the Simms residence this Friday. Invitations are going out today."
My stomach dropped. Calvin's house. My enemy's territory.
Ashley definitely didn't know the venue yet, or she would have rubbed it in my face.
Novia elbowed me. "Looks like our plan just got a lot more interesting."
I clenched my fists. "Great. Just what I needed. Him, his friends, and a party where everyone will stare at me like I am supposed to swoon."
Amanda sighed. "Sam... two weeks until your birthday. You are working on our plan, right?"
I exhaled slowly. Two weeks to stick to my rules, stay detached, and avoid falling apart in front of him. And yet I had a sinking feeling that by Friday, nothing would be the same. Calvin Simms had a way of showing up everywhere I did not want him to be.
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7.3
I found out my husband of three years had cheated on me and his mistress is the one who told me-because he didn't have the balls to do it himself.
I move out and get a new apartment, a job as a bartender, and try to move on with a broken heart. I wonder where it all went wrong, if I hadn't been enough for him, if I'd been stupid for marrying him in the first place.
I'm at work one night when he walks inside-the most beautiful man I've ever seen. He sits at the bar and a forest fire burns between us. I was depressed the moment before he entered, but the second I look at his blue eyes, I forget the dumpster fire that my life has become. I invite him back to my place and it's the most passionate night of my life. I expect to never see him again.
I just want him as an anti-depressant-but he wants me all to himself. I just got my heart ripped out of my chest so I want something easy and no-strings-attached, but he wants all the strings because he's hooked.
I don't get much of a say in the matter, and that's not surprising when I learn why-because he's the Butcher. The crime lord of all crime lords, the boss that overshadows all of Paris, that makes everyone abide by his rules-or pay.
And now I'm his.
7.4
I thought my life was over when my sister died, leaving me to raise her two babies in a world that wanted to swallow us whole. Then I made the mistake of a lifetime: I left a bold, humiliating voicemail for the one man I should have feared most.
Anton Oryolov.
The ruthless king of the Oryolov Bratva. A billionaire monster who rules the city with ice in his veins and blood on his hands.
I expected him to fire me. I expected him to destroy me. Instead, he gave me a choice that felt like a death sentence: sign a contract and become his.
The rules were simple. I belong to him. I live in his shadows. In exchange, he protects the children. But as the doors of his mansion locked behind me, I realized the "forced proximity" wasn't just a business arrangement. It was a cage.
He thinks he can use me as a pawn in his dark mafia games. He thinks the children are just leverage to keep me in line. But he's starting to look at me with a hunger that isn't in the contract, and I'm seeing a man beneath the monster that I never expected to find.
In the Cruel Paradise of the Bratva, loyalty is a lie and love is a weakness. Our deal is signed in ink, but it's going to end in blood.
He owns my signature. He owns my safety. Now, he wants my soul.
7.1
For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party."
9.0
"You and your baby are mine whether you want it or not."
Renata Neroni's life was shattered the moment she discovered her boyfriend and stepsister's betrayal. In a rare lapse of judgment fueled by grief and alcohol, she spent a single, anonymous night with a stranger, unaware that she had just surrendered herself to Domenico Veronesi, the most formidable figure in the global underworld.
That night left Renata with more than just a memory; she was pregnant with the heir to a mafia empire.
As her father, desperate to free himself from the debts, prepares to marry her off to a man nearly his own age, Renata finds herself trapped. Her only escape arrives in the form of Domenico himself. Asserting his claim, he interrupts the arrangement and brings Renata to his secluded estate.
Within the fortified walls of the Veronesi estate, the man known for his cold, merciless exterior reveals a singular obsession: the protection of Renata and their unborn child.
However, Domenico's readiness to provide is met with a wall of ice.
Despite his efforts to provide for her, Renata's resentment initially hardens into a wall of silence.
To her, Domenico is simply another powerful man attempting to control her fate. However, as she is forced to navigate the inner workings of his life within the mafia world, she begins to see the man behind the fearsome reputation.
Renata discovers the deeper layers of Domenico, a loyalty and a hidden vulnerability regarding their child, and the fear that once defined her begins to dissolve.
9.1
I walked into the wrong hotel room...
To a naked man fresh out of the shower.
Now, I'm pregnant with his baby.
I should've left as soon as I saw him.
He was too beautiful to be real.
I got halfway to the door...
And then he saw exactly what I was trying to hide.
"Who hurt you?" he said when he glimpsed the bruises. "Let me fix it."
I should've said no.
But honestly? I deserve a little luck from the universe.
And if it wants to provide that luck in the form of a gorgeous, six-foot angel of darkness...
Well, I won't turn my nose up at that.
But nothing in this life comes without strings attached.
My angel gives me a night from heaven...
When morning comes, though, he turns into a devil.
And not just any devil.
This devil knows where I'm from.
Who I am.
What I've done.
And he's determined to make me pay for all of it.
9.0
I spent a year scrubbing floors in my fiancé’s club, hiding my identity as the daughter of the Capo dei Capi.
I needed to know if Connor Bishop was a King worth merging empires with, or just a puppet.
The answer came walking in wearing a neon pink dress.
Jaden Juarez, a civilian he was infatuated with, didn't just treat me like a servant; she deliberately poured scalding espresso over my hand because I refused to be her valet.
The pain was blinding, my skin blistering instantly.
I video-called Connor, showing him the burn, expecting him to enforce the code of our world.
Instead, seeing his investors watching, he panicked.
He chose to sacrifice me to save face.
"Get on your knees," he roared through the speaker. "Beg her pardon. Show her the respect she deserves."
He wanted the daughter of the most dangerous man on the East Coast to kneel to his mistress.
He thought he was showing strength.
He didn't realize he was looking at a woman who could burn his entire world to ash with a single phone call.
I didn't cry. I didn't beg.
I simply hung up the phone and locked the kitchen doors.
Then, I dialed the one number everyone in the underworld feared.
"Dad," I said, my voice cold as steel. "Code Black. Bring the papers."
"And send the wolves."