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Isank into my chair as Roman slipped out of sight. For the first time since I’d stepped into this interrogation room, I felt like I could breathe properly.

Jesus Christ. My head was throbbing as the beginnings of a headache pierced my skull. I ran my mind over the entire interview. What the fuck just happened?

“Capi,” Espinoza said, startling me. At some point he’d reentered the interrogation room. I could hear the question in his tone. I couldn’t deal with him just yet. I had to process all of this. I had to decide what the hell I was going to do.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I blurted, as I pushed my chair back and raced out of the room. I ran for the ladies’ room at the end of the hall, ignoring the strange looks of the other officers as I shoved past. In the bathroom, I locked myself into a stall. I collapsed on the closed toilet lid and let my face fall into my hands.

Roman fucking Tyrell was my Roman.

The man I had almost run away to Paris with was a criminal. Not just any criminal, but the new heir to the Tyrells’ bloody empire. Jesus Christ. How could I have gone home with a man like that? How could I have given myself, my body, to a Tyrell? I shuddered. I’d seen the crime scene photos of the many alleged victims of the Tyrell family and their mob infighting. Like the massacre at the warehouse when his brother, Jacob Tyrell, had died along with dozens of his men. And of Michelle Rossi, a mob-bunny turned informant. They had raped her and beaten her to a purple mess before someone had mercifully put a bullet into her head.

I tried to imagine Roman standing over someone with a gun. Or even hitting a woman.

I couldn’t.

Roman had come to my defense at the club when that jackass started manhandling me. “I was just coming over to save you…”

“Why? Because I’m a girl and all I need is a big strong man to come save me?”

“No, because you’re a human being. I don’t like it when I see other human beings being treated without respect. Not when I can do something about it.”

Could that have been an act? Why act in front of me?

I tried to fit these two pieces of the same man together. I tried to reconcile Roman Tyrell with the man who I’d bared my body and my soul to.

I couldn’t.

What should I do now?

I had a conflict of interest in this investigation. I shouldn’t be on this case. I had slept with the prime suspect. I had to report my involvement with Roman. I cringed as I imagined how that conversation would go down with the captain. Oh shit. My father, the chief… he’d specifically given me this case. And Espo… what would I tell him?

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell anyone. It’d ruin my career. Any respect or reputation I’d worked so hard to create would be shattered. I’d never be taken seriously as a woman detective again.

Could I work this case? With my body still reacting to him the way it did?

I had to. I had to do my job, no matter what it was that I felt. I could work the case. I could be unbiased. Just because I had slept with him—had the most amazing night of my life with him—I could still work the case like he was any other suspect. Right? Just because my body reacted like a live wire whenever he was around—stupid mutinous body—I could still rationalize the evidence. I could arrest him and put him away if he was guilty.

Right?