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The admission does nothing to make me feel better.

An officer approaches before Enzo can say anything else.

"Ms. Collins, we need you to come to the station and give a full statement."

Enzo turns toward him. "She's been through enough tonight. Whatever you need, you can get it here."

The officer's expression hardens. "With all due respect, Mr. Moretti, that isn't your decision."

There's something openly hostile about the way he says Enzo's name. Rocco takes a step forward, but Enzo raises one hand without looking at him, and the enormous man stops immediately.

"I'm aware of how this works, Officer," Enzo replies.

"Then let Ms. Collins decide whether she'll accompany us."

I look between them, exhausted by the confrontation.

"I'll go," I tell the officer. "I haven't done anything wrong."

Enzo turns back to me. "Bridget, please. I need a chance to explain everything."

I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warm hallway.

"Not tonight."

"Tomorrow, then. Meet me for coffee. One hour, sweetheart. Let me tell you the truth."

The truth. What a fucking concept.

I want to scream at him until my throat is raw, but mostly I want to be alone in my home, shower, and crawl into bed with my cats. Unfortunately, there's blood on my kitchen floor, police officers waiting for my statement, and a woman on her way to the hospital who has changed everything I thought I knew about my life.

"Fine," I whisper. "Coffee. That's all."

Relief softens his face, but when he tries to reach for my hand again, I step away.

"I'm sorry, Bridget."

I look at the handsome man I've spent three weeks falling in love with, then down at his right hand.

The gold ring is still there.

I follow the officer downstairs, where a patrol car waits at the curb. Mrs. Patterson has agreed to look after my cats, and I've been assured the apartment will be secured before she's left alone with them.

I climb into the back seat, too exhausted to argue about anything else.

As the officer drives away, I look through the rear window. Enzo stands outside my building with Rocco beside him, watching the car carry me away.

Three weeks ago, I met a handsome stranger at my best friend's wedding and thought I'd finally found Prince Charming.

Tonight, I stabbed his wife.

And as the police car turns the corner, I can't stop wondering how many other things Lorenzo Moretti has been hiding from me.

CHAPTER EIGHT

BRIDGET

I've always thought police interrogation rooms would smell like stale coffee, desperation, and whatever industrial cleaner they use to scrub blood off the floors.