LOGINScarpa sees. Scarpa wants. Scarpa hunts. Scarpa gets. It’s a chain of life for Torre Scarpa—the unspoken law of the Scarpa world. When Torre sets his eyes on Montana Rossi, his employee’s wife; a pale, soft-spoken foreign woman who gave herself to the wrong Italian man as husband, he doesn't just want her. He claims her by all bloodied means. Montana, left alone, humiliated by the powerful Rossi family after her husband's death, finds herself in Scarpa’s warm embrace. He pays off her debts. Gives her shelter. Offers her peace. Even lets her care for his troubled daughter. He is the savior she never expected. But Scarpa is no angel. Behind the tailored suits and steady gaze is a man who always gets what he wants—no matter the cost. And Montana? She's not free. Not really. Not anymore. As she falls for him, body and soul, she begins to wonder: Is this love? Or a beautiful trap? When the truth of Scarpa’s world comes to light—its secrets, its crimes, its bloodied roots—Montana must face what she’s become, and decide: Can she live with the devil who saved her? Or is it already too late? Because the Lord Scarpa doesn’t let go. He devours.
View MoreMontana’s POV **“Seen these gloves before?”I looked down at the black gloves. They were too familiar to be mistaken. They were Ben’s work gloves. He never let me touch them. He washed them himself.My heart began to hammer for reasons I couldn’t explain.“Yes,” I wanted to say. “But how does that justify accusing my late husband of filming me at my lowest? And how does it justify you watching a video of me naked and having sex?”But I couldn’t say anything. I had lost my voice… and my boldness. What if Mr. Scarpa was right? He had no reason to lie—we didn’t even know each other.Mr. Scarpa remained seated, calm and still like moving would break something sacred. He pointed toward a tiny device tucked near the gloves. “Those are cameras. Hidden. My men found them and brought them to me. As a man who avoids scandal, I needed to see why he had these. I was thinking, was he trying to blackmail me too after sleeping with my wife? You just happened to walk in at the wrong… or maybe righ
Torre’s POV **I closed my eyes and slid my fucking trigger hand into the dark. The cotton of my briefs pressed tight, but I didn’t care. The chair creaked beneath me as I leaned back in my private office. The light overhead buzzed low. On the projector screen, she was already there. Montana—my dream girl.She was on all fours with her husband, Benedetto Rossi, behind her. He was fucking her slow. The bed dipped under their rhythm. I watched Benedetto slide out of her, and when he pushed back in, she let out that moan—the one I knew too well. Her arms gave out. Her breasts met the sheets. God, she collapsed like she needed it more than air.My cock stirred. Just a twitch. Pale Montana deserved a punishment for falling apart from that position. I spread my legs wider. My hand moved lower, cupping my balls. My boys were both cold and heavy. I squeezed them tight and muttered, “What’s the rush, boys?”I always took my time.Her eyes fluttered in the video. It was half-lidded and daze
Montana's POV**I wanted to look perfect if nothing else. I stare at myself in the mirror, but I sneer because it's not enough. My curly hair is just too ugly to suit Mr. Scarpa's taste. I think.The thought of Mr. Scarpa had invaded my headspace until now. How could a man be so calm even while mourning? The way he casually addressed me when he came here last week… it was prestigious of him. That day, he left after telling me about the cufflink but he also left me with a clear heart, giving me no reason to doubt him at all.“You know this cufflink? From where?” he had asked.“The doctor… I… where I went to take a test at Live Alive Hospital. The doctor, he had the exact same cufflink.”He was as calm as ever when he admitted: “You mean Dr. Falcone Paz? Yes, we are family friends. Known each other since Adam.”I had no doubt, and that also cleared the suspicion I had had of him being a dangerous stalker. I had been wondering how he knew I was pregnant, but him saying the doctor was
5. Torre's POV * * Indeed, Rossi’s fucking house looked like something out of a Dreamland fairytale. There was a bright, welcoming garden of orange flowers lounged outside like it didn’t know it belonged to a dead man. Neatly trimmed grass kissed the path that led up to what was now, legally and spiritually, my fucking property. “Well, it's a property in debt to me now, you dead motherfucker.” I knocked and the door creaked open to reveal pale Montana. She was in casual black cotton shorts and a soft yellow shirt. This was the kind of casual comfort women wore when they thought no one important would show up. There was a dog that was not even Italian-bred, hovering by her bare legs. It was shaggy, wide-eyed and seemed loyal to the bones. Montana wasn’t Italian, that was obvious. Her skin was soft like powdered sugar, but those dark coils? They could’ve belonged to a woman from Naples, like my mother’s. She looked up through those wild lashes, revealing her ocean-blue w






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