Chapter 131 Caught Again

Chapter 131 Caught Again
Enzo continued fingering Sofia with maddening, satisfying strokes, his fingers pumping inside her wet heat as she rode them shamelessly. 
Her soft moans filled the dimly lit hallway, muffled against his broad chest. He caressed her swollen clit with his thumb in perfect, slow circles while grinding his massive erection against her ass, letting her feel exactly how desperately he wanted her.
Locked in their passionate embrace, the world around them faded. Enzo’s breath was hot against her neck as he rasped, “Does that feel good, tesoro?”
Sofia moaned louder, her head falling back against his chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt this alive, this wanted. Fuck… She had forgotten what it felt like to be a creature of pure pleasure. 
For so long she had been a mother, a maid, a survivor. But right now, with Enzo’s fingers buried deep inside her and his hard cock pressing insistently against her, she wasn’t dead inside. It felt fucking incredible.
Just as the pleasure began to crest, threatening to pull her under, they heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching from around the corner.
They froze.
Sofia’s eyes flew open in panic. She quickly adjusted her dress with trembling hands, her face flushed crimson and her lips swollen from Enzo’s hungry kisses. 
Enzo, on the other hand, wore a big, Cheshire-cat grin, looking far too proud of himself as he slowly withdrew his fingers and brought them to his mouth, tasting her with deliberate satisfaction.
“We could finish this later,” he murmured, his voice rough with promise. “My room or yours. Whatever you want, Sofia.”
Sofia promptly turned even redder, a shy but delighted smile tugging at her lips. “You are so awfully sure of yourself, Enzo.”
Enzo chuckled deeply, the low rumble of his laughter sending fresh sparks of desire straight through her core. 
But the footsteps grew closer. Sofia slipped from his grasp, quickly smoothing down her skirt and hair before hurrying away down the opposite corridor, her heart racing wildly.
\---
Eloise had finally summoned the courage to face her husband. She approached the heavy door of Massimo’s study, her heart pounding with a mixture of lingering excitement from college and nervous anticipation. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open.
The room was empty.
Even in his absence, Massimo’s presence dominated every inch of the space—the rich scent of his cologne and cigars lingering in the air, the massive desk carved from dark oak, the heavy leather chairs that seemed built for a king.
Her eyes went to the maps covering one entire wall. They were marked with more territories, boundaries, and border demarcations in red and black ink. The sight always reminded her of the dangerous world she had married into.
She stepped further inside, drawn toward his desk like a moth to flame. Documents and files were spread across the surface—shipping manifests, export records for contraband that made her stomach twist. Some were written in Italian.
Others in English.
She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. 
This was exactly how she had discovered Massimo was still in contact with Regina, and the painful mess that had followed.
She shouldn’t be snooping. Massimo would be furious if he walked in and found her rummaging through his files.
With a guilty sigh, she began stacking the documents back into place. "I'm not doing this again," she muttered under her breath.
The moment she lifted one of the folders, something slipped free. A photograph fluttered from between the pages and landed on the floor.
Eloise bent down and picked it up.
It was an old family photograph of three boys, a man, and a woman. She spotted Massimo immediately, even though he looked no older than sixteen. 
His black hair was shorter, his features less sharp. His shoulders not yet carrying the weight of an empire.
But those eyes—
Those impossible blue eyes. They stared directly at the camera with the same intensity they carried now. He stood slightly behind the others, as though he was never truly part of the family. 
Her heart ached fiercely for the boy he had been—unwanted, scarred, fighting to survive.
She recognized Luca too, with that arrogant tilt to his chin even then. The third boy, with a slightly watermarked face, must be Nico—the other son Sofia had mentioned once. 
Unlike Massimo, he stood close to Luca. The two boys looked united. Like brothers against the world.
Giovanni stood tall and commanding in the center. Even through the photograph, she could see traces of the older man Massimo had become. The same piercing eyes. The same dangerous air.
But it was the woman beside him who drew Eloise’s attention.
Agatha.
She was beautiful, almost ethereally so, but the hatred etched into her expression made her terrifying. This was the woman actively plotting her death and her husband’s downfall.
Eloise found herself staring at her longer than intended. Trying to understand. Trying to see what had broken inside her. Trying to understand how someone could love her children and still become this.
Then her eyes went back to her husband. 
“This is you…” Eloise whispered softly, tracing her finger over the younger Massimo’s face. The loneliness in his eyes called to something deep inside her. 
Just then, the door opened.
Massimo stepped inside, his powerful frame filling the doorway. The photograph slipped from Eloise’s fingers and drifted back to the floor.