It was always about her.
Taking care of her.
Making sure she had everything she needed.
School. Apartment. Living expenses.
I took care of it all. For her.
And I’ll never regret the decisions I made to keep the smile on her face.
But she left me once, and I’ll be damned before I let her leave again. As the Cafarelli family enforcer, I can provide her with more than I could before–money and protection. I’ll do everything in my power to protect her from whatever demon made her run the first time. But what if it turns out the demon was me?
If there’s one thing I know, it’s that our connection is undeniable; I can feel how hot she is for me.
Even if she won’t admit it.
Yet.
Naya Okpara
It took a long time to get to where I am now.
From foster kid to private investigator, I do whatever it takes to get the job done.
Even if that means working for the Cafarelli family.
I thought he was long gone—a distant memory tainted by a figure from our past. But time and distance did nothing to ease my hunger for his touch. Nor did it erase the betrayals that shattered me.
When the man who lights my skin on fire appears before me, I’m forced to face the realities I spent years avoiding. Now, Salvatore and I are working for the same family, and I can’t let the connection of our past ruin my future.
But what if he is my future?
Cusp of Redemption is book two of the Cusp series but can be read as a standalone. It has a guaranteed HEA, swoon-worthy anti-hero, and badass heroine. This is an interracial mafia romance containing explicit sex scenes, graphic violence, and is recommended for readers 18+.
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EXCERPT:
“If you wanted me to hunt you down, all you had to do was ask.” I muffled a scream with my hand as Salvatore’s deep voice startled me from his place at my tiny kitchen table. “But from now on, each and every chase will end with you on your back.”
“What the fuck?” I snapped, barely able to comprehend the scene in front of me. With only two barstools and a round surface barely large enough for a pizza box, Salvatore somehow seemed to make himself at home despite dwarfing the area.
He wore a gray sweatsuit, a complete contrast to the suit from last night, but by the grace of some god, he looked even more delicious. His hoodie pulled across his broad chest and defined his shoulder muscles. My eyes traveled up his thick neck and to his mouth where a mischievous smirk curved his mouth.
A glint of light brought my gaze down to his hand fiddling with…a knife?
Salvatore gave me a slow once-over that made me contemplate hopping back in the shower—for a cold one this time. His dark eyes held me captive, taking in every inch of my being at a leisurely pace. An appreciative glint shone in his eyes.
I took the time to look at him. Really look at him. His dark hair cropped short and connected to his perfectly sculpted beard. With high cheekbones and full lips, he’d make a killing as one of those models on the cover of romance books. Especially with the jagged scar running from the middle of his right eyebrow straight down to an inch or so below his cheekbone, he was a sight to behold. While I couldn’t see his torso, there wasn’t a sliver of doubt in my mind his abs were as defined as the rest of him. My mouth watered at the memory of how hard he was as I flopped over his shoulder.
Salvatore and I had stumbled across each other’s paths a few times over the past year, and I was just as captivated and entranced by him as ever. Each time seemed to make the pull even stronger. The way his presence drew me to him was infuriating. And right now was the first time we’d been alone and so close since we last saw each other ten years ago.
But the physical attraction was undoubtedly still there.
He was bigger than before. More demanding. More dominating in his presence.
And my body couldn’t get enough. But I had to keep reminding my brain there was a reason we weren’t together anymore. He left me. I’d need to chant that mantra every time we were together.
“Diana Diamond has nothing on you.” Salvatore rumbled, his voice caressed me from head to toe and dripped in appreciation. He was referring to yesterday’s disguise. I resisted the urge to preen. I would not fuss over my appearance. It didn’t matter what Salvatore thought of me. He didn’t matter.
Although, I was mildly pleased by the fact he was alive. I didn’t like the guy, but I didn’t want him dead either.
Yet.
He sat, absently flipping the knife back and forth between his fingers. The metal glinted in the morning light. “Are you trying to intimidate me with your little knife show?”
He glanced down, mildly surprised. “Habit,” he said simply before flipping the blade down and tucking it in his pocket. “I hardly believe a knife would be enough to intimidate you.”
He stood and slowly stalked closer to me.
“And what do you think intimidates me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. He was right, I picked up skills over the years to outmaneuver a knife. But he didn’t know that.
I held my ground as he came toe to toe with me. I had to crane my neck to look him in the eye. His presence was overbearing, the spicy scent of his cologne flooding my senses. I licked my lips, and his eyes tracked the movement. “You need something more physical. Skin on skin. Overbearing. The full weight of a man pressing you down to submit. You wouldn’t give in to something as meager as a piece of metal.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, hating how he read me so well. His eyes dropped to my lips, and I couldn’t resist darting my tongue out to lick my lips. The image of him pressing me into a bed flashed before me and I nearly choked on the need that coursed through my veins and pooled in my core.
A ghost of a smile wafted on his face, breaking the spell. I stepped to the side and out of his intoxicating presence.
Salvatore closed his eyes briefly and took a deep inhale before shifting, so we were facing each other once again.
Wait.
“You broke into my house?” I whisper-yelled, remembering I never invited him in. I didn’t even know he knew where I lived and as much as I wanted to cuss him out, I was worried about the thin walls and curious neighbors.
“You stole my car.” He shrugged.
Author Bio:
Olivia Preya is a romance fanatic and author living in Toronto, Canada. She writes about what she loves—love, spice, and panty-dropping men with a soft spot for the love of their lives. When life gets a little tough or bland, she finds that fictional men are the best medicine.
Olivia considers herself to have two personas, like Wonder Woman, but with a pen––corporate marketing specialist by day and spicy romance author by night. She also likes to embrace all forms of sensuality, from pole dancing and erotic novels to good food; she believes that sometimes the best things in life are a little sinful.
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