SOPHIE & THE DUKE 🔞

Chapter 20

SOPHIE

"Daughter? I think there's been a misunderstanding," I stammered, my mind racing to make sense of the situation unfolding before me. Everything was happening so quickly, and I struggled to keep up.

Gio's perplexed gaze mirrored my own confusion. "Could someone please explain what's happening here? Why is everyone calling Sophie 'Lina'?" he questioned, turning to Rosa. "Lina passed away a long time ago. We attended her funeral, and even at the young age of eight, I understood the gravity of it all," he added, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and disbelief.

"Who is Lina?" I instinctively asked as I descended the staircase. We were now gathered in the sitting room, and I needed to know who this person was and understand why Rosa and the older woman, whom I believed to be Gio's mother, were calling me Lina.

Rosa hesitated, a tear slipping from her eye as she gazed at me in confusion. "She... she was my daughter," she managed to say.

"Oh," I was left speechless, unable to think clearly. "I'm so sorry about Lina," I said softly, approaching Rosa and wrapping my arms around her in an attempt to offer her comfort.

"You bear a striking resemblance to Lina. For a moment, I thought I was seeing a ghost," Gio's mother remarked, prompting me to turn and face her.

"Good evening, Your Highness," I greeted, bowing respectfully.

"Good evening, my dear," she replied, her eyes shifting from my face to my swollen belly, her expression filled with confusion.

She quickly composed herself and went over to Rosa, engaging in a conversation in Italian that I couldn't understand. Rather than trying to decipher their words, I redirected my attention back to Gio. His presence was too captivating to ignore, and my focus remained fixed on him.

"I... um, I need to sit down. My back is killing me," I told him. He looked at me with a tender expression. It seemed as though he was lost in his own thoughts, but his response made it clear that there was deep affection in his gaze. However, it faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Here, take my hand," he offered, extending his hand towards mine. As our hands made contact, it felt as if an electric shock passed between us. I gasped at the sudden sensation, and I couldn't help but wonder if Gio felt the same surge of connection at that precise moment.

"Mama, Rosa, shall we all sit and have dinner now? Let's leave the past in the past," Gio spoke up, drawing out a chair for me to sit in.

"Let's say grace," Gio's mother suggested as she stared at me with a neutral expression, and we all took our seats around the dining table.

"Dear Heavenly Father,

We gather here today, humbled and thankful—"

As I turned to look at Gio, I saw him observing me without blinking. His gaze was focused on me, and no matter how hard I tried to avert my gaze, I found it impossible to break eye contact. Our eyes locked as we sat side by side.

I felt his knuckles lightly brush my bare knee under the table, causing my breathing to become shallow and heavy. His hand traced a path up to my gown, gently lifting it. The mere contact of his skin against mine was nearly enough to give me an orgasm. His fingers worked their way to my already drenched panties and I squeezed my legs together at the contact.

He slid his fingers down my thighs and I pulled my knees together tightly as if that would keep him from touching me further. My breath was ragged and I could feel myself getting wetter by the second.

"Tonight, Strega" he leaned to whisper into my ears with a smirk on his face.

"In Your holy name, we pray.

Amen."

He withdrew his hands promptly and straightened his necktie. When I turned to face him, his gaze remained fixed on me.

"So, Gio. Who is she?" His mother's voice snapped me back to reality.

"Mother, this is Sophie; the mother of my unborn child," Gio replied, his expression filled with an indescribable emotion that wasn't hostile.

I shifted my gaze to Rosa, who was seated across from me, wearing a constant smile while her eyes remained locked on me.

"Really?" His mother questioned, her expression transforming into a frown, her cutlery dropping as she folded her arms.

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