Moor (Twisted Bard)

Scene V

SCENE V

OTHELLO

O thello smirked, watching the little doc squirm in his chair, trying to mask his blushing cheeks. Although he'd drawn a line between them, he couldn't deny how adorable Des was when he was flustered. To spare the man some grace, he changed the subject.

"Do you know the man I was meeting with today?"

"Why should I?"

"He's asked me to gather information about your father. Would you be opposed to me doing that?"

"I thought you worked in construction."

"I do far more than that." Othello smiled. "So, would you care?"

Des shook his head. "It has nothing to do with me."

Othello wasn't sure what he’d been expecting, but he was pretty sure that wasn't it. "Why? Aren't you curious about what I might find out?"

"My father knew what he was doing when he decided to run for senate. If he has secrets, he should have known they would get out. I only ask one thing."

"What's that?"

"Whatever you find, don't tell me."

"I didn't plan on it."

"Good."

"You keep surprising me, Doc."

"What do you mean?"

"Here, I thought you were the dutiful son and would tell me to leave dear old dad alone. Instead, you shrug it off."

"Like I said, my dad knew what he was doing, so I'm sure he's prepared for anything that comes out about him."

"I won't say I'm not curious about your relationship with your father, but I won't ask."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet."

They changed the topic, and neither of them noticed the time ticking by slowly. Although he sponsored businesses in the art district, Othello didn't normally venture out this way. If it wasn't for Jackson Durrant wanting to meet, he was certain he wouldn't have seen the former doctor today. Othello had thought about the pretty doctor in the past few days but did not attempt to contact him because he wanted to stand firm in his decision. But the second he’d been going to leave the cafe, he felt the man's presence and knew he couldn't leave without speaking.

"So, this is what you do with all your free time?" Othello asked.

"Not really. I've been busy cleaning up my new place. My grandfather bought it for me before he died. It's been sitting for a while and needs a lot of tender loving care."

"And you're just the right person to do it."

"Yes. It's where I plan to open my studio. Do you want to see it?"

"Are you inviting me to your place, Doc?" Othello leaned back in his seat

"So what if I am?" Des asked with a spark in his green eyes that drew Othello in.

You're playing with fire, little doc, Othello thought. "Sure," he said, seeing that he still had time.

"Cool." Des stood and grabbed his empty cup. "It's not far from here."

It took them fifteen minutes to get to the studio. Othello recognized it as a building once he put a bid on it, but the owner refused to sell it, no matter how much money he threw at them. Now he knew why. It was two levels large enough to convert into a club and hookah bar. The place had good lighting and would’ve set the mood for what he had in mind. Des showed him around and laid out his plans for what he was thinking, and just like the night they were at dinner, his eyes sparkled as he came to life. It made Othello want to see what they looked like when he was being fucked.

"My studio will be down here, and through there," Des said, pointing to the door on the far side of the room, “it leads to my apartment."

"Do I get a tour of that as well?" Othello’s voice dipped as he walked closer to him, but not enough to touch.

"I...it's not ready." He looked down, and Othello couldn't deny his cock twitched at the submissive pose.

"Look at me," Othello softly ordered.

Des raised his head, and their gazes connected. Othello was truly questioning this whole “let's be friends” thing. The way he looked right now, Othello suspected he could simply pull him into his arms and do whatever he wanted to Des, and the man wouldn't stop him. Des's lips parted, and Othello couldn't help but lick his own at the thought of tasting the little doc. He moved closer to Des and was about to tell him to forget the whole friend thing. He didn't do one-night stands, but at that moment, the little doctor was far too tempting to ignore. But then his cellphone rang.

"You should answer that," Des whispered and stepped around him.

Othello sighed and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. "What?" he answered, turning to look at Des, who had his back to him.

"Boss, where are you? We have to go," Tallen said.

Fuck, being with Des, he'd quickly forgotten he had other business to attend to. "Alright, I'll meet you back at the cafe."

"Where—"

Othello hung up before Tallen could ask more questions. "I have to go."

"Do you want me to walk you back to the cafe?"

"No." He moved over to Des and pinched his chin. "Don't be a stranger, Doc. You have my number. Text or call me anytime."

"You too."

Othello stood there for a few seconds, tempted to follow through with his plan to kiss Des, but he thought better of it. He had a feeling that getting one taste of Des wouldn't be enough for him, which was why he said they should be friends. It was safer that way. Releasing the man's face, Othello walked away, conflicted for the first time about whether he was doing the right thing.

Des watched the taller man leave, feeling a little disappointed that their time together had been cut short. It wasn't planned, but he was having a good time with Othello, and if he hadn't been mistaken, he could have sworn the man would kiss him. But maybe that was all in his imagination. Des knew he wouldn't object to Othello's touch, especially his kiss. Hell, he was hoping the man would fuck the life out of him. With their status as it was, he didn't see that happening.

Maybe it's time I cut my losses and start dating other people like Gray suggested. Yet Des wasn't sure that would happen since his mind and body had been stuck on Othello Moor since the night he met him. I guess the saying is true: the heart knows what it wants, and there's nothing I can do about it for now. Fuck, who knew having an infatuation would be like this?

“I heard you were at Conti’s a couple of weeks ago,” Alessandro said to him.

“Yeah, I took a friend there for dinner,” Othello responded, not looking up from the paperwork he was reviewing. "The books look good, but we should still get the accountant to review them. I...” His cellphone vibrated as he spoke. Reaching over, he picked it up, smiling when he saw it was Des. They had been texting back and forth since the night they had gone out, but they had both gotten extremely busy.

Doc Des: I’m free tonight. Do you want to get together? My friends seem to be busy.

Othello: So I’m your second choice?

Doc Des: I can read the sarcasm; it’s not a handsome look.

Othello: I’m always handsome.

Doc Des: Someone is so full of themselves. So, can we get together tonight?

Othello thought about it for a minute before telling him to come by the club. He had a few errands to run, but he should be back by then. After getting a reply, Othello put his cellphone down and let his thoughts wander for a second. In the past couple of weeks, he and Des had been meeting quite often, whether it was for dinner, a cup of coffee, or to hang out, which was something Othello hadn't done in a very long time. During their time together, Othello could feel his body relaxing more, bringing on another problem: his growing attraction.

The best way to stop it from happening would be to distance himself from Des, but truthfully, he didn't want to. He enjoyed being in his presence and watching his eyes shine the more he learned about himself. Des was intelligent, but maybe it was not only his growing confidence but also his naivete that called to Othello, making him want to protect the little doctor from not only him but also the entire world. At his wayward thoughts, he shook his head. I'm being foolish. He's better off with someone else.

Othello went back to work. They had a couple of stores in the diamond and gold district, but Othello wanted more. Yes, he was greedy, but it was a dog-eat-dog world, and he was like a lion wanting to be the king of said world.

“I think we need to stop looking into who shot you,” Alessandro stated. “For now, at least.”

“Are you giving up?” Othello asked, furrowing his brows.

Alessandro shook his head. “I can’t believe we haven’t found a fucking clue as to who did it. The one lead we had died.”

“I find that just as suspicious,” Othello told him.

Alessandro stared at him. “You don’t think we have a spy on the inside, don't you?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time another clan or the cops have tried to get something on us.” Othello leaned back in his seat. “I have a plan you might not like.”

“Tell me anyway,” Alessandro sighed.

“When was the last time you took Mama on a vacation?”

“What does that have to do with what we’re talking about?”

“I have a feeling that the way things went down wasn’t how the person who set things up was expecting it to go. Either one of us or both was supposed to die.”

“What about Iago?”

“I doubt they know we have it set up that he would be the don if something were to happen. Fuck, not even Iago knows that.”

“So what’s your plan?”

Othello leaned back in his chair. “Anything we do, we need to continue to keep our actions quiet from the two major families. I'm not counting them out as suspects. They hate me and are completely against me being the next don."

"I'd like to disagree with that, but I can't," Alessandro said sadly. "Although some things change, some things remain the same."

The two main families disliked the fact that Othello, a man they considered as other or an interloper, made waves and was liked and respected by the remaining clans, who were hoping Othello would one day take up the mantle of head of The Commission. They would rather have Alessandro name Iago the heir, and it was no secret why. His Italian heritage was more pronounced in appearance and color. On the other hand, Othello was one percent Italian, seventy percent African, and the rest Portuguese, Albanian, and Spanish. Mixed blood was what some whispered behind his back, but never to his face. Although The Commission had some say in what the minor families did, they had no right to choose the next in line.

"Anyway, the witness killed himself. No other way to explain that than if whoever ambushed us was working for the main families. He was more afraid of them than us. The question is, who in our family is working with them? I have a feeling they're waiting for one of us to get out of the way so they can really act. Most know you’ve named me your heir, but they don’t know I’ve already taken up the mantle. But you still carry a lot of weight, Don. In the other dons’ eyes, I’m not ready.”

“So, with me completely out of the way, you get to see who the real players are?” Othello nodded. “Okay. I’ll take Maria away for a bit, but it won’t be until after Emilia gives birth. I’ve promised to take Maria to Spain, Portugal, and Italy. Shoot, we might even jet off to Africa.” He stood and walked to the door, but stopped. “When we return, Othello, I hope you’re ready to introduce the young man who put that grin on your face to me and your mother. Better yet, bring him to the anniversary party you and Iago are planning.”

What the hell is the old man talking about? Scoffing at his father’s silliness, Othello got back to work.

Later that day, Othello pulled into the parking spot marked for the owner of the Mirage Club. Getting out of his car, his brows furrowed when he spotted Roderigo’s car two spaces down. He wondered what the man was doing here. It wasn’t time for the club to open, and he knew of no private parties happening. With the two clubs he owned, Othello kept a log of all that went on in his establishments. He was kind of anal when it came to things like that. Pocketing his keys, Othello entered the club, feeling annoyed that there wasn’t a guard at the door that shouldn’t have been unlocked.

Looking around, he tsked at not seeing any staff who should have been there preparing to open the club. “Where the fuck is everyone?” Just as he uttered the words, he heard a scream coming from the back room. Othello rushed in that direction and burst through the door, seeing Roderigo about to strike a female staff member.

“Where is it?” Roderigo yelled and swung his hand, only it didn’t connect with the staff’s face since Othello grabbed his arm and roughly pushed him to the ground. “Who the fuck—?” He tried to get up, but Othello raised a foot and stomped him back down.

“Stay the fuck down,” he growled, and he could see the fear of all the gods flashing through Roderigo’s eyes when he noticed him. Othello looked at the female employee’s face, remembering her name was Lucy, whose cheeks were red, evidence she’d been slapped around a couple of times before he arrived. Lucy was one of the high-paid girls who did more than strip for the club. Feeling rage burn in him, Othello’s gaze flashed to Roderigo, who was still being held down by his foot. Reaching into his pockets, Othello pulled out some money and handed it to her. “Go home and rest for the night.”

“What are you doing? I bought h—” He didn’t get to finish the rest because Othello kicked him in the stomach, shutting Roderigo up.

“Go,” Othello said, looking at Lucy. “Don’t come back until your face is cleared up. And don’t worry, this won’t affect your pay.” Not only that, he couldn't let Tallen see her like that. His soldier had a huge crush on Lucy.

“Yes,” she said, running out of the room.

Once she was gone, Othello turned to Roderigo and spoke in an even tone that did not hide his anger. “What are the rules of my club?”

“It’s not your club,” Roderigo spat.

Stepping back, Othello removed his jacket and loosened the first couple of buttons on the top of his shirt. Never taking his eyes off Roderigo, who struggled to his feet, Othello unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and slowly rolled them up. Roderigo was a well-known businessman, or so he liked to tell people, but the truth was he lived off his daddy's money and made shitty investments, and that included the club Othello had won from him. It wasn’t until he took control that the place saw a profit.

“I’m giving you leeway, Roderigo, by repeating the question. What are my club rules?”

Othello had a code of conduct for both his entertainment establishments that must be followed, especially for the Mirage where he had strippers and escorts of all genders employed. The patrons could spend as much money as they wanted on his people all night long, or hell, days, but one major rule was never to lay a harmful hand on one of his people. The rule Roderigo broke. Growing tired of waiting for the man to answer, Othello raised a hand and slapped the man so hard he howled in pain as he stumbled back, hitting the wall hard. Othello didn’t let up. He hit him a couple more times.

“Tell me,” he snapped, slapping him even harder.

“Stop…please,” Roderigo begged. “I won’t do it again, please. I’m sorry.”

Not feeling appeased, Othello kicked him in the crotch and watched as he doubled over in pain, feeling no sympathy. Othello was not a nice man, but abusing women, children, and those deemed weak did not sit well with him. He really hated people like Roderigo, who had power and abused it because he thought he could.

“You’re banned from every one of my establishments. If I see you enter any one of them, I will kill you. Now get the fuck out!”

Roderigo struggled to his feet, glaring at Othello. “You won’t get away with this!”

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Othello snapped.

“Just you wait, Othello. I’ll make sure you pay for this.”

"You sound like an idiotic television villain. Fuck, you're annoying." Othello grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the entrance, and threw his ass out. When he returned to the club and saw that it was still empty, Othello decided that besides Lucy, he would have to rehire a whole new staff.

“Fuck, and today started out so well.”

Des removed his helmet, stowed it away, pocketed his keys, and walked to the club entrance. Just as he was about to open the door, he was stopped.

“Hey, Doc.”

Turning, he saw Tallen walking over to greet him. “Hey,” he said, greeting him back. “I’m here to see Othello.”

“I know,” Tallen said. “It’s why I’m here. He got caught up in a meeting and told me to meet you and take you to the apartment. He’ll be up as soon as he’s done.”

“I don’t have to wait for him there. I can just go to the bar.”

“You can’t,” Tallen said hurriedly. “The boss forgot a private party was happening tonight, so the club is closed to the public.”

“Oh, I’ll go up then.”

Tallen nodded and led him to the apartment, about a ten-minute walk or less from the club. Tallen let him in with his key and left him to take care of his own things. Since he was preoccupied the last time he was there, Des took in the entire apartment without invading Othello's space. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten in a while and had hoped to catch a meal and drink with Othello. Going to the kitchen, he opened the fridge and looked for something to eat. Not seeing anything he liked, Des decided to go shopping. Maybe he could cook something for dinner. He stopped at his thoughts, wondering if Othello would think he was thinking too far with their friendship.

Des didn’t know how to explain what they had going on. Over the past few weeks, they’d gotten together on and off and texted constantly. Their flirting became so distracting that lately, he couldn't concentrate on the painting project he was working on for Othello or sit through a lecture. He found his attraction to Othello growing rather than waning. He'd grown accustomed to Othello being a part of his circle, and he spoke with his two best friends less than normal. It didn't help that each time he felt them getting closer, Othello would pull away, putting distance between them.

“Fuck, I don’t know if I’m coming or going with this guy.” His stomach growled again. “Forget it, I’ll just cook something. He can think whatever the hell he wants.”

Opening the door, he was about to step out, but stopped when he saw Tallen standing outside.

“Hey, Doc, do you need something?”

“What are you still doing here?” he asked, instead of answering the other man’s question.

“Oh, I’m waiting for the boss to get here, plus he wanted me to stick by your side in case you needed anything.”

“O-okay.” He went to leave, but once again, Tallen got in his way. “Um...is there a reason you’re not letting me leave?”

“No, of course not," he said with a wry chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "But if you need to go somewhere, I can take you.”

Des stared at Tallen, wondering what his deal was, but put it aside for now. “I need to go to the store. I want to make something to eat.”

“Did you check the garden and the freezer?”

“Um..."

"Boss's garden is on the roof, and the freezer has extra meat and stuff."

Well, that's efficient. "I didn't check, but still, I want to get fresh meat. I can get a few things and then look at the garden when we return."

"Alright, make a list, and I'll shop for you."

"You don't have to. I don't mind doing it myself."

"Then I'll go with you," Tallen insisted.

Des was getting ready to object again but felt Tallen wouldn't let up. "Okay, let's go."

“The store is a few minutes by car and much longer on foot. Plus, it's too hot for you to walk.”

Des had to admit Tallen had a point. “Sounds good.” As they walked to Tallen’s car, the man talked nonstop, mostly about his boss. But Des had to admit it eased the weirdness he had felt around the guy a few minutes ago. During their shopping trip, he discovered Tallen had started working for Othello six years ago and sometimes acted as his assistant.

He wanted to ask more questions that he knew Othello wouldn’t answer, but he didn’t want to put Tallen in an awkward position. So, instead, he simply listened, hoping Tallen would let something slip. It didn't take them long to get what he needed. Soon, they were heading back to Othello's apartment, where Des had to drag Tallen inside, because, for some odd reason, he didn't want to enter. Des told him he had to show him that garden, and it ended up adding another reason to fall in lust with Othello.

The man is too damn perfect. Does he have any flaws?