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.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 6
Samira's POV
The halls were buzzing. Not just loud, but electric. It was the kind of energy that made it impossible to focus on anything except the senior party at the Simms' house.
By the time first period started, I had already overheard at least five groups of girls whispering about dress codes, music, and the most important question of the night: who would end up with whom. I tried to ignore it as I shoved my notebooks into my backpack, but my friends were not making that easy.
"Sam!" Novia practically tackled me by our lockers. "Did you hear? The Simms party is going to be insane!"
"I heard." I muttered, aiming for nonchalant.
Amanda's grin stretched wide across her face. "You're going, right?"
"Of course." I said too quickly. My voice betrayed me instantly. I should have whispered instead of announcing it to half the hallway.
Novia elbowed me. "Good. Because if you don't, we will drag you there ourselves. And trust me, it is going to be interesting."
"Interesting?" I asked carefully.
"You know." she said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Calvin Simms, you, a confined space, music, drinks, and possible flirting."
I groaned and adjusted the strap on my bag. "You two are truly insane."
Amanda shrugged. "Maybe. But we are observant. You are going to have fun whether you admit it or not."
I rolled my eyes and focused on my locker, or at least I tried to. Calvin had just walked past the hall. His eyes met mine for half a second before he kept moving. That brief moment was enough to leave my thoughts unsettled for the rest of the morning.
By lunch, the cafeteria had transformed into a rumor hub.
"Did you see Ashley's dress?" one girl whispered, leaning forward dramatically.
"She is trying way too hard." another replied.
I sat at our usual table with Novia and Amanda, pretending to be uninterested while listening closely.
"Do you think Calvin is actually single enough for this party?" Novia asked casually, biting into her fries.
I nearly choked on my soda. "What?"
Amanda grinned. "She is wondering if you are planning to test the waters with him."
I glared at them both. "We are not talking about that."
Novia snorted. "Sure, Sam. Keep telling yourself that. I have seen the way he looks at you and the way you react. You are curious."
"I am not curious." I said through gritted teeth.
The butterflies in my stomach made that statement very difficult to believe. Amanda leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Curious or not, this party is your chance. One week is all you have before your plan officially starts. It will be hard to ignore him in that setting."
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. One week kept repeating in my mind no matter how hard I tried to push it away.
By the time the final bell rang, my thoughts were a mess. My birthday was one week away. The party was tonight. Calvin Simms would be everywhere whether I wanted him to be or not.
I dropped my backpack onto my bedroom floor with a thud. My parents were out for the evening, which meant the house was ours to get ready. Novia and Amanda arrived twenty minutes later carrying garment bags, makeup kits, and several pairs of shoes.
"This is headquarters!" Novia announced as she shut the door behind her.
Amanda laughed. "Operation Controlled Chaos begins now!"
"You two are being dramatic." I said.
"And you love us for it!" Amanda replied.
Within minutes, my room was covered in dresses made of sequins, satin, and lace. Every surface held something dramatic and eye catching. Amanda held up the sparkling navy dress again. "This one. I am not debating it."
"I still think it might be too much." I said.
"Too much?" Novia scoffed. "It is a senior party at the Simms' house. There is no such thing as too much."
She stepped into her own black mini dress with a subtle shimmer and examined herself in the mirror. "See? Elevated, not desperate."
Amanda slipped into a sleek emerald dress that fit her perfectly. "We look coordinated without matching. It feels effortless."
I stared at the navy dress again and hesitated. "Fine." I sighed. "But if I regret this, I am blaming both of you."
"You will not!" they said at the same time.
Music played from my speaker while we rotated between mirrors, laughing and arguing over palettes. Novia insisted on smoky eyes while Amanda pushed for a softer glow.
"I just want to look like myself." I said.
"You do." Amanda replied as she blended carefully. "You just look more polished."
"Consider it an upgrade!" Novia added.
When they finished, I studied my reflection. I did not look overdone or flashy. I looked sharper and more confident. Amanda stepped back and nodded slowly. "Okay. That is dangerous."
Novia smirked. "He is going to lose his mind!"
"I do not care if he notices me." I insisted.
They both gave me identical looks. "Sure." Amanda said.
Shoes became the final debate. Heels won, though they were not extreme. They were tall enough to change my posture and the way I carried myself. Novia adjusted her earrings while Amanda sprayed perfume into the air and walked through it dramatically. I added a final swipe of lipstick.
For a moment, the three of us stood there and looked at one another. We looked confident and polished. We looked ready.
"You realize..." Novia said slowly, "When we walk in together, people are going to stare."
Amanda smiled. "Let them."
My heart began to pound, and this time it was not just nerves. It felt like anticipation building under my skin.
"Okay." I said, grabbing my clutch. "Let's go before I change my mind."
Novia linked her arm through mine, and Amanda grabbed her keys. We were walking in together.
As we drove toward the party, my thoughts tangled together. Outfits, hallway glances, classroom tension, and Calvin's smirk all competed for space in my head. One more week until I can execute my plan. One week until I tested my limits and finally took control.
Yet my stomach still fluttered when I thought about him. I swear it wasn't like this a week ago. This was going to be harder than I expected.
The anticipation made it almost thrilling. Almost.
My life had never felt more electric, and tonight was only the beginning.
You may also like
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."