Chapter 9 - Tears In The Eyes Of New Orleans’ Most Feared ManHearing that name hit Ronan like a physical blow, forcing him back against the leather of his chair.
Eda Boudreaux had been his mother’s closest confidante and neighbor before the warehouse fire consumed their home.
Everyone believed Eda had taken the recipe to her grave when she vanished from the city years ago.
Ronan looked up at Tessa, his slate-gray eyes shimmering with unshed tears that he fought hard to control.
“Eda... she’s your teacher?” Ronan asked, his voice barely above a harsh whisper.
“She passed away last autumn,” Tessa said softly, noticing the sudden devastation crossing his face.
“She left me her recipe notebook and a tin of spices, but she never told me who inspired the dish.”
Ronan stared down at the bowl of oxtail stew, a single tear escaping to trace down his cheek.
“It inspired the only happy memories I’ve had in thirty-three years of living,” Ronan admitted quietly.
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Tessa stood in silence, realizing she was standing before a powerful mafia boss who was quietly breaking down.
The tough exterior of Beaumont House’s owner had completely dissolved over a bowl of humble southern stew.
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