Ronan’s POV
Coming home was supposed to feel the same. It usually did. Familiar halls, familiar scent of dinner through polished wood, the low murmur of staff that faded the second they caught a glimpse of me.
But tonight... something shifted. The air was lighter. Yet it felt warmer. An overwhelming sense of urgency still tinged the air.
It made for an interesting mix of contradictions which left me a little bit curious to find out what was going on.
‘What's going on here?’
It hit me before I even stepped out of my coat. The scent. Not just food, but home-cooked food. And not the curated perfection of our usual chef's meticulous hand… or hands. Depending on the occasion. This had soul. The smoke — and what was that… butter? — threatened to drag me by the nose.
I narrowed my eyes as
