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
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Chapter 1
Samira's POV
"I'm telling you, babe. College is going to be wild, and you're going to need experience to survive it." Amanda said with absolute confidence.
I scoffed. The logic was hollow and made zero sense.
"It's almost exam season." Novia added, her eyes brightening as if she had just decoded the secrets of the universe. "You have from now until summer break to at least get a boyfriend."
I rolled my eyes hard enough to feel the strain. "Shouldn't we be focused on exams and getting into a decent university?" I asked, taking a thick bite of my burrito.
We were tucked into our usual booth at the downtown diner. The cracked red vinyl of the seats poked at my legs, and the overhead lighting was a permanent, hazy amber that made everything look like an old photograph. The milkshakes were thick, sugary masterpieces that tasted better than they had any right to. Saturday evenings here had become a sacred, predictable routine for us.
Amanda groaned at my practicality while Novia dramatically slumped her weight against the booth.
"Besides..." I said, shifting my weight so I faced them fully, "Why are you two pushing me into a relationship when neither of you is dating anyone? That's hypocrisy."
They exchanged a look. It was a slow, knowing communication that was far too smug for my comfort. I let out a long sigh. That particular expression never signaled anything good for my future.
"What?" I asked.
Novia shoved a salty fry into her mouth and clapped her hands together. "Because, dear best friend, you have never been in a relationship. We have."
"And we don't want you going into college completely clueless," Amanda added. "You wouldn't even know how to respond if a guy showed interest."
I stared at them, flat and unimpressed. "You do realize this is bullying, right?"
"No, it's not." they said together.
"It absolutely is." I shot back. "It's peer pressure."
My voice must have carried across the small space because the ambient chatter of the diner suddenly dipped into silence. I turned away immediately, becoming very invested in the swirling whipped cream of my milkshake.
They giggled and pivoted to school gossip without missing a beat, whispering about social dramas that I had no interest in following. I stared out the large diner window to tune out the noise, and that was when the atmosphere shifted.
Four boys stepped out of a sleek black car, moving with a coordinated ease that made it seem like the world was built to make space for them.
My eyes found him without effort.
Calvin Simms.
He walked with an effortless, predatory confidence, hands tucked into his pockets and his posture perfectly relaxed. Raven hair fell in dark silk over his forehead, and at six foot one, he loomed over the sidewalk. He was annoyingly handsome. Unfairly so.
Too bad I couldn't stand the sight of him.
I was about to look away when he stopped mid-stride and turned his head. His gaze landed directly on me.
I looked away so fast my neck muscles protested the movement.
Shit.
Why was he staring? We never spoke. That had been the unspoken, comfortable agreement for years.
Except for that one project we had been forced to work on together. We earned an A+, but every step of the process had been miserable. Heated arguments replaced actual cooperation, and sharp insults hid behind layers of thinly veiled sarcasm. It was a miracle we survived the semester without a physical altercation.
"The guys are here." Novia whispered loudly.
Amanda quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. "Stop. They can hear you."
Both of them were suddenly red-faced and flustered, their bravado from earlier vanishing.
I laughed quietly. Amanda had a massive, long-standing crush on Chris, and Novia had been obsessed with Denver for as long as I could remember. Unfortunately for my friends, all four boys had a specific reputation. Serious relationships were not their thing.
That was when I felt it again. The prickling sensation of someone watching me.
I followed the feeling and met Calvin's gaze through the glass a second time. His expression was unreadable. It was calm and distant, which was different from the way he usually went out of his way to avoid looking at me altogether.
Why was he acting so strange?
Calvin Simms. Frederick Myers. Chris Jackson. Denver Andrews.
The untouchables of Trenton High.
I scowled, rolled my eyes, and forced myself to turn away.
"I'm ready to go." I said.
Both girls stared at me like I had just uttered something deeply offensive.
"Please close your mouths." I added lightly. "Your crushes might be watching."
"I need the bathroom." Amanda muttered, her confidence replaced by a sudden shyness.
We tossed our trash and headed inside toward the back. The bathroom was cramped, barely holding the three of us in the small, tiled space. Novia checked both stalls for privacy then turned on me.
"What was that about, Sam?" she demanded.
"What was what?" I asked, shrugging as I stepped into a stall.
She was not dropping the subject.
"This is not over." Novia warned, pointing a finger at the door before disappearing into the stall beside mine.
I exhaled slowly. Why was this such a big deal? We exchanged a look through a window. That was all.
Outside, the cool evening air hit us as Amanda unlocked the car. Novia claimed the shotgun seat, so I slid into the familiar shadows of the backseat.
"I saw the way you two looked at each other." Novia said excitedly as we pulled away. "Do you think he's interested in you?"
I grimaced at the thought. "Absolutely not."
"Oh, he likes you." she insisted.
Amanda met my eyes in the rearview mirror, her expression thoughtful. "I don't know. It wasn't flirty. Calvin didn't show any emotion, but this is the first time I've seen him openly stare at you. And Sam, you've always hated him, but you've never really said why."
Amanda had always been the observant one. She noticed the smallest shifts in tone and the details most people ignored.
I leaned back, genuinely amused. "That was a whole lot of nothing, Amanda. I expected better logic from our reasonable friend."
Novia groaned into the headrest. "You're useless."
I smiled to myself as we pulled out of the parking lot and the diner faded into the distance.
A whole lot of nonsense.
Or so I thought.
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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.
9.3
She sells flowers. He spills blood. And he will stop at nothing to make her his. Elena Rossi has always lived quietly among roses and lilies, dreaming of love as gentle as the petals she arranges. She thought she found it in Daniel, the man she planned to marry. Until her wedding day when a dangerous stranger walked into the church and shattered everything. Adrian Volkov is a king in the underworld, a man feared for his ruthlessness and power. But to him, Elena is not just a prize. She is an obsession. A storm he cannot live without. And he will burn the world and anyone in it, to claim her. Torn from the life she knew, Elena resists him, manipulates him, and even runs from him. But Adrian is relentless. His love is dark, his touch both punishing and tender, and his obsession inescapable. When betrayal and bloodshed close in, Elena must face the truth: She doesn't just fear him. She doesn't just hate him. She loves him. Petals and Blood is a haunting, passionate tale of obsession, betrayal, and the dangerous kind of love that blooms in shadows.
7.6
When the Pollard family kicked Alyssa out into the freezing rain, Walter threw a ten-thousand-dollar check into a dirty puddle.
"Take it and get out. Don't ever come back," he sneered.
Her adoptive mother and stepsister stood on the mansion's porch, mocking her as a worthless country girl who tarnished their wealthy name. They laughed, claiming she wouldn't even be able to afford community college and would be begging on the streets in a week.
They looked at her cheap clothes and worn backpack with absolute disgust.
They were completely unaware that for the past five years, Alyssa was the secret mastermind who had built their failing gallery into a multi-million-dollar investment empire.
Every key investment, every fortune they made, came from the anonymous notes she had slipped into their unread books. They genuinely believed they were business geniuses, while treating the true architect of their wealth like a stray dog.
Looking at their smug, arrogant faces, Alyssa didn't feel a shred of sadness, only a cold, sharp irony.
They actually believed they had raised her.
She stepped close, whispered the master code to Walter's most secret offshore account, and watched the blood completely drain from his face.
"I raised you," she said, turning her back on the mansion without hesitation.
Walking into the storm, she pulled out a heavily encrypted phone and gave a single, cold order.
"Initiate a full hostile takeover of the Pollard Group."
It was time to end this little game and step into her true life—as the world's most elusive medical genius, and the long-lost billionaire heiress of the Summers dynasty.
9.4
Michael Carter is an undercover FBI agent on a mission to take down ruthless mafia king Fernando Ramírez-the man he believes killed his sister. But getting close to Fernando means playing a dangerous game, one where seduction and power blur the lines between enemy and lover.
When Michael uncovers a shocking truth, his thirst for revenge turns into a fight for something far more dangerous-his own heart. Now, torn between duty and desire, he must decide: destroy the man he swore to take down or surrender to the one thing he never saw coming.
Love has never been more lethal.
8.7
I was the spare daughter of the Vitiello crime family, born solely to provide organs for my golden sister, Isabella.
Four years ago, under the codename "Seven," I nursed Dante Moretti, the Don of Chicago, back to health in a safe house. I was the one who held him in the dark.
But Isabella stole my name, my credit, and the man I loved.
Now, Dante looked at me with nothing but cold disgust, believing her lies.
When a neon sign crashed down on the street, Dante used his body to shield Isabella, leaving me to be crushed under twisted steel.
While Isabella sat in a VIP suite crying over a scratch, I lay broken, listening to my parents discuss if my kidneys were still viable for harvest.
The final straw came at their engagement gala. When Dante saw me wearing the lava stone bracelet I had worn in the safe house, he accused me of stealing it from Isabella.
He ordered my father to punish me.
I took fifty lashes to my back while Dante covered Isabella's eyes, protecting her from the ugly truth.
That night, the love in my heart finally died.
On the morning of their wedding, I handed Dante a gift box containing a cassette tape-the only proof that I was Seven.
Then, I signed the papers disowning my family, threw my phone out the car window, and boarded a one-way flight to Sydney.
By the time Dante listens to that tape and realizes he married a monster, I will be thousands of miles away, never to return.
8.0
After fifteen years of marriage and a brutal battle with infertility, I finally saw two pink lines on a pregnancy test. This baby was my victory, the heir that would finally secure my place as the wife of mob capo Marco Vitiello. I planned to announce it at his mother's party, a triumph over the matriarch who saw me as nothing but a barren field.
But before I could celebrate, my friend sent me a video. The headline read: "MOB CAPO MARCO VITIELLO'S PASSIONATE NIGHTCLUB KISS!" It was him, my husband, devouring a woman who looked like a younger, fresher version of me.
Hours later, Marco stumbled home, drunk and reeking of another woman's perfume. He complained about his mother begging him for an heir, completely unaware of the secret I held. Then my phone lit up with a text from an unknown number.
"Your husband slept with my girl. We need to talk."
It was signed by Dante Moretti, the ruthless Don of our rival family.
The meeting with Dante was a nightmare. He showed me another video. This time, I heard my husband's voice, telling the other woman, "I love you. Elara... that's just business." My fifteen years of loyalty, of building his empire, of taking a bullet for him-all dismissed as "just business."
Dante didn't just reveal the affair; he showed me proof that Marco was already stealing our shared assets to build a new life with his mistress. Then, he made me an offer.
"Divorce him," he said, his eyes cold and calculating. "Join me. We'll build an empire together and destroy him."