Sophia's POV
The drive back from the main house was silent.
I stared out the window at the passing gardens, my mind still churning with the fragments of conversation I'd overheard.
When we arrived at our wing of the estate, Vito's hand found my thigh before I could reach for the door handle.
"Come to bed," he said, his voice low and commanding.
I turned to look at him. Even in the dim light of the car, I could see the familiar hunger in his eyes.
Not tonight. I can't.
"I'm exhausted, Vito." The words came out flat, honest. "That dinner was... a lot."
His jaw tightened. For a moment, I braced myself for the cold demand, the reminder of my "wifely duties" and the transactional nature of our arrangement.
But instead, his gaze traveled over my face, taking in what I suspected were dar
