Ronan unlocked his door, sighing as he held it open for me to enter. I was hit with the full force of his scent of soap and cloves, mixed with a tinge of smoke. The layout was smaller than Dom and Claire’s—who lived in the penthouse—and cozy where theirs was airy. I ran my fingertip along the plush, cracked leather couch in the living room and swept my gaze over the dark wood bookcases filled with books as thick as my arm. There were no knickknacks to speak of, but that was no surprise. On the wall was a great portrait of what had to be Ireland, a stone cottage nestled in rolling hills of
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