Chapter 175 Boredom

Chapter 175 Boredom
The next morning settled over the clubhouse with an unusual calm, no emergency calls.

Lyra arrived at the back office with a mug of coffee balanced in one hand and a notebook tucked beneath her arm.

She expected to find the room empty. Instead, Renzo was already there, he sat with one foot hooked over the leg of his chair, several folders spread neatly across the desk.

A pair of reading glasses, clearly not his, sitting crooked on the bridge of his nos, rested on his face as he frowned at a page.

Lyra stopped in the doorway, blinking in surprise. "You wear glasses?" she asked, unable to hide the amusement in her voice.

Renzo looked up over the rims. "Only when paperwork declares war on my eyesight," he muttered, nudging the crooked frames into place with one finger.

"They're crooked," she observed, stepping farther into the room.

"They're borrowed," he admitted with a shrug. "Apparently, whoever owns them has a smaller head." He said.

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.

He gestured toward the glasses. "Go ahead. Get it out of your system."

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"You already did."

She smiled, setting her notebook on the desk. "I've been here since seven," Renzo added, sounding oddly proud of himself.

Lyra paused, looking at the clock before raising an eyebrow. "Voluntarily?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"So you came here to read tax regulations?" she asked, pulling out her chair.

"When you say it like that, I sound unwell."

"You are unwell."

He let out an exaggerated sigh. "I walked right into that one."

Lyra shook her head, still smiling. "What have you finished?"

Without another word, Renzo slid a thick stack of papers across the desk. "Business registration requirements, basic licensing, property use permits," he said, tapping the folder. "I highlighted everything that looked important."

Lyra opened the file, her expression gradually shifting from curiosity to surprise, each section had been organized neatly, important clauses were highlighted, questions filled the margins in careful handwriting.

She looked back at him. "You actually read all of this?" she asked, genuine disbelief softening her voice.

"I told you I couldn't sleep," he replied, leaning back in his chair with a small grin.

"I didn't think you'd get through half."

"I didn't think I would either."

She continued reading, twice she stopped, comparing two pages. "You caught these inconsistencies?"

"They contradict each other," Renzo said, leaning forward to point at the highlighted paragraphs. "One says permits renew every year. The other says every two."

"They do," Lyra murmured, scanning both pages again.

"So which one's current?"

"I'll verify."

He leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head as much as his healing shoulder allowed. "See?" he said with quiet satisfaction. "I can be useful sitting down."

"You can," Lyra replied honestly.

There wasn't even teasing in her voice, just simple acknowledgment and for reasons he couldn't quite explain, that meant more than he expected.

Late that afternoon, Dante stepped into the office carrying another folder beneath one arm, he glanced around at the growing collection of paperwork before looking at Lyra. "Progress?"

She handed over the updated notes. "We've covered nearly half the licensing research."

Dante flipped through the pages in silence, his eyes eventually settled on the handwritten notes covering the margins. "You did these?" he asked, lifting the papers slightly toward Renzo.

Renzo nodded, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. "I was bribed with boredom."

"You missed your calling." He said.

"I sincerely hope not," Renzo muttered.

A faint twitch appeared at the corner of Dante's mouth. "The notes are thorough."

"I had time."

"So I noticed."

Dante closed the folder with a quiet snap. "Good work."

Renzo stared at him for a second. "...That's it?" he asked, blinking.

Dante looked up. "What were you expecting?" He asked.

Renzo shrugged. "I don't know." He muttered, loud enough for them to hear.

"A parade?" Dante asked dryly, arching one eyebrow.

"A little one."

Dante gave a slow shake of his head. "You'll survive without applause."

"I've survived worse."

"I know." He said and for a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It simply lingered before Dante placed another folder onto the desk with deliberate precision. "Next batch."

Renzo dropped his head back dramatically. "You're punishing me."

"I'm keeping you occupied," Dante replied without an ounce of sympathy.

"Same thing."

"It depends who you ask."

Lyra hid another smile behind the folder she was organizing.


Across the compound, Cade stood watching several prospects repair a stretch of fencing damaged during the recent attack, most worked steadily, one didn't.

The youngest prospect leaned lazily against a fence post, pretending to tighten bolts that had clearly been secured already.

Cade folded his arms and walked over. "You planning on fixing that fence," he asked evenly, "or becoming part of it?"

The prospect straightened immediately. "I already finished this section."

"So start another."

"I've been working since breakfast."

"So has everyone else."

The young man shifted uncomfortably. "My shoulder hurts."

Cade studied him for a long second before answering. "Renzo got shot twice in the same shoulder," he said quietly, "and still argued to come back before he was cleared."

The prospect wisely kept his mouth shut. "I'm not saying ignore injuries," Cade continued, his tone firm but measured. "I'm saying don't confuse discomfort with an excuse."

The prospect lowered his gaze. "Yes, sir."

Cade pointed toward the unfinished section farther down the line. "Help them."

The young man nodded quickly and hurried off, one of the older members chuckled under his breath as Cade turned away. "You've started sounding like Dante."

Cade shot him a look. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

The older member laughed, raising both hands in surrender before returning to work.

Cade shook his head, though the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly as he looked over the fence line one more time before heading back toward the clubhouse.