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 5
Samira's POV
Another boring day dragged by.
I swallowed hard and tightened my grip on my bag strap, wishing the hours would move faster. I hoped I would not have to deal with any more group projects. I had been paired with him constantly lately, as if the universe was playing a cruel trick on me.
I suppose this was technically a step closer to executing my plans, and yet every time he appeared, that resolve seemed to weaken.
"Sam." Novia hissed from behind me, tugging my arm away from the wall. "Focus. You are staring at him again."
"I am not." I started to argue, but Amanda elbowed me before I could finish.
"You are." Amanda said with a knowing look. "Your jaw is locked. That counts as staring."
I exhaled sharply, trying to compose my features. "I am evaluating the competition. That is different."
Novia snorted. "Call it whatever you want."
English class was waiting for us, and I knew trouble was waiting inside. Mrs. Huntington announced a new group project that required paired oral presentations. I silently hoped for someone quiet and uncomplicated, a partner who would let me do the work in peace.
That hope lasted all of ten seconds.
"You will be working with Calvin Simms." she said while scanning her list.
My stomach dropped into my shoes. Calvin glanced over at me with an expression that mixed genuine amusement with a silent challenge.
"Why is she getting paired with Cal for every class?" Ashley whined from the front row. She stared daggers at me the next second, her face twisted in a pout. Calvin barely gave her any attention at all.
Mrs. Huntington ignored the noise and continued with her instructions.
"Perfect!" I muttered under my breath, the sarcasm dripping from the word.
He leaned back in his chair as if we had already agreed to some secret pact. "Looks like we are stuck together again, Sam. Try not to panic."
"I do not panic." I replied coolly, meeting his gaze. "You might want to focus more on the material and less on entertaining yourself."
A low laugh left him, a sound that was controlled and effortless. "I can multitask."
Our first planning session began awkwardly. Amanda and Novia had already coached me on how to handle these moments. Stay composed. Tease him lightly. Never show a hint of nerves.
I opened my notebook to a fresh page. "Let us focus on the themes and structure first."
Calvin leaned forward slightly, moving close enough for our arms to brush. I felt the contact instantly, a jolt of electricity that I pretended not to notice.
"Relax." he said smoothly, his voice dropping an octave. "We are not defusing a bomb."
"I am relaxed." I replied, though my pulse had started to misbehave.
After class ended, I tried taking the longer hallway toward the science wing, hoping to avoid a second encounter. It did not work.
"Sam." he called out, stepping into my path with calm confidence. "Avoiding me already?"
"I have places to be." I said evenly, not slowing my pace.
He shifted his weight just enough to block my route without actually touching me. "You always seem in a hurry when I am around."
Lies. We always ignore each other. I did not know why he was suddenly in my air these days.
"That is because you are in the way."
His lips curved slightly into a shadow of a smile. "You are bold. I respect that."
I stepped around him before he could respond. Our shoulders brushed in the process, and the contact sent an unexpected ripple through me.
"Careful." he said quietly behind me. "You almost lost your balance."
"I am fine." I answered without turning around to look at him. "Stop pretending you care."
He did not reply, but I felt the weight of his gaze on my back until I disappeared into the next corridor.
Lunch offered no relief from the tension. Amanda and Novia had chosen a table with a clear view of the cafeteria floor. I tried to act indifferent while unwrapping my sandwich, but my attention kept drifting toward Calvin. He was laughing with Denver and Frederick, looking completely at ease. At one point, he leaned toward a girl from the debate team and said something that made her blush a deep crimson.
An unfamiliar sting of jealousy tightened in my chest.
Novia caught the change in my expression immediately. "Interesting reaction."
"I am reacting to nothing." I said, taking a deliberate, large bite of my sandwich.
Amanda gave me a look that said she did not believe a single word. "Sure."
As if sensing my eyes on him, Calvin glanced across the cafeteria. His eyes landed directly on mine. I looked down at my tray as if the plastic had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world.
"He saw that." Novia whispered.
"I was not staring." I replied, though my ears felt warm.
After lunch, we had a free period. I escaped to the quiet of the library, hoping Calvin would not show up and the silence would finally calm my thoughts.
Calvin was already there.
He sat at a table near the back, his headphones resting around his neck, flipping through a heavy textbook. When I entered, he looked up immediately. There was no smirk this time, only a quiet, intense awareness.
I moved toward the shelves, pretending I had not noticed his presence.
"Miss James." His voice called out, cutting through the silence.
Of course.
I walked over with steady steps and sat down across from him. He studied me for a long moment before speaking.
"Ready to make some progress?"
"As ready as I will ever be."
We spread our materials across the table. Our hands brushed more than once while we both reached for the same pages. Each point of contact felt amplified in the quiet, hushed space.
"You are tense." he observed calmly.
"I am focused."
"There is a difference."
I lifted my eyes to meet his. "Do not analyze me."
He held my gaze a second longer than necessary, then returned his attention to the text. "Then stop giving me so much material."
We worked for nearly an hour. The rhythm between us shifted into something competitive yet strangely synchronized. I corrected his interpretations when I disagreed, and he challenged mine with measured, smart arguments. When he laughed at one of my sharper remarks, I hated how much I noticed the pleasant sound of it.
By the time we packed up our things, the project outline was solid.
"You are better at this than I expected." he said while sliding his notebook into his bag.
"That sounds like an insult."
"It is not."
I narrowed my eyes. "Do not get used to it."
His expression softened slightly, a look I hadn't seen before. "I would not dream of it."
Outside the library, Amanda and Novia were already waiting.
"Well?" Novia asked the moment I reached them.
"We made progress." I said simply.
Amanda studied my face for any cracks. "And?"
"And nothing." I replied. "It was productive."
They exchanged a look that was slow, knowing, and far too smug for my comfort.
The ride home felt longer than usual. Two weeks remained to prove I could handle him without losing myself in whatever this tension was becoming. Yet the more time I spent around Calvin Simms, the more complicated the plan felt. He did not push aggressively. He did not chase me down. He simply observed, stepped into my path at the right moments, and waited.
And I reacted every single time.
That was the problem. He was not overwhelming. He was patient. Calculating. Quietly confident. And I was beginning to wonder whether I had seriously underestimated him.
Two weeks remained. By the time my birthday arrived, something would shift. I could feel it in the air. I just was not sure whether I would be the one in control when it finally happened.
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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."