Page 7 of Moor (Twisted Bard)

SCENE I

OTHELLO

S ix months later, Othello entered through the back door of Starlight Haven, entering the code on the keypad and waiting for the lock to sound. With Starlight Haven located in the former factory district, it brought him a lot of upscale clientele, since the old factories were bought and converted into coffee shops, bookstores, restaurants, gyms, offices, penthouse apartments, and clubs like his own. When the door opened, the scent of strong liquor, money, and machines invaded his senses.

Othello opened the club two years ago. Tonight, the club's second level hosted a party for a lawyer celebrating his wife’s birthday. He spent almost half a million dollars on fifteen bottles of their priciest champagne and got to use their VIP lounges. The first floor was business as usual, with party and clubgoers enjoying themselves.

Entering his office, he sat at his desk and reviewed the previous night's receipts. Since returning from the hospital, Othello had been so busy that he couldn’t explain it. The deal with the Falcons had been completed, and just as Othello had suggested, Julian Falcon went with what they offered. Othello would admit the Romano clan still got the better end of things, but the Falcons weren’t at a loss, either. If Julian played it smart, they could make a killing out of the properties, but like he told his father, Julian didn't have the head or the heart for the business they were in. By the end of the year, they would be getting all of their properties back and more.

Othello and his family were still in the dark about who had ambushed them. The guy Iago brought back hung himself with his shirt a day later. They should have locked him up naked, because that’s what Othello would have done. Othello couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the ambush. No one but the two clans knew when and where they were meeting, so they had a traitor in the mix. Dealing with traitors was easy, but that meant they were working with someone powerful to be able to get the drop on two clans. Othello secretly had one of his most trusted guys looking into things without telling Alessandro and Iago.

Thinking of Iago, Othello had hardly seen his friend in the past few months. Before he got shot, they'd have lunch at least once a week to catch up. But they'd both been busy dealing with restructuring the Rizzo properties. In between all of that, Othello had spent much of his time healing and building his body back, and Iago was probably worried about Emilia, who was seven months pregnant and seemed to be having some complications, but the doctors and the family were hopeful for a healthy baby. No one knew what she was having and wanted to be surprised. The door to his office opened, pulling him from his thoughts, and Iago walked in as if he’d known Othello was thinking about him.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Iago asked.

Othello furrowed his brows. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I thought you’d be at home resting.” Iago entered, closed the door, and sat on the couch across from Othello’s desk.

“Am I an old man that needs resting?” He chuckled.

“O, you were shot...”

“Six months ago. I’m fully healed and in better shape than I was before. I don’t see what you’re worried about.” As he said the words, a thought came to him. “Do you think I’m going to die on you or something?”

“Stop talking craziness,” Iago said. "Nothing can kill you."

“I'm glad you're aware,” he said, moving a few papers around. Just then, his door burst open, and Marco walked in.

“Boss, you need to come quick. We have trouble,” he said.

“What kind of trouble?” Iago asked before Othello could say anything.

“Um...” Marco stuttered, looking between them both.

Othello mentally sighed. He noticed that had been happening a lot lately. It started the first week after he got out of the hospital. Subordinates seemed unsure who to call their boss, and the ones that usually came to report things to him would go to Iago as if he was the second-in-command. Othello had been ignoring the way Iago’s eyes lit up each time it happened.

He knew Iago had run things for him while in the hospital, but he was only gone for two weeks. How the fuck did their loyalty shift so damn quickly? He would like to say that it didn’t bother him; after all, he and Iago were not in any competition. He had never used his underboss authority since he had gained respect from his soldiers from the start. But it didn’t mean he could let things continue any longer where they seemed to doubt who their boss was. He would have to address things with his subordinates and Iago. If he didn't, it made him look weak as fuck. But then again, Othello could’ve been imagining things. He knew Iago was under a lot of stress these past few months.

I should cut him some slack.

“What’s happening, Marco?” Othello asked since the man had yet to answer.

“Members of the Rossetti clan came into the club. You said it would be cool if the other clans came to the party as long as they abided by the rules. Everything was okay until they started making trouble with a few of the customers at the bar. A couple of our guys tried to stop them, but things got out of hand.”

“Fuck,” Othello exclaimed, cursing even more, and shot out of his seat.

The Rossetti clan was not to be played with. They were a minor family, but had close ties to the Ricci clan. He wasn't trying to cross paths with the Rossetti or the Ricci family yet. More things needed to be put into place. Othello and Rossetti's underboss also had a very brief dating history. They were just as influential in the underworld as the Romano clan. He hurried to the dance floor, which was a disaster. People were running out of the entrance or hiding, while men of all sizes were throwing hard fists at each other. Through the loud punches and the crowd of people running, Othello heard a familiar voice and prayed that he was wrong.

“Don’t you fucking touch me, you asshole!”

Othello followed the voice, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw angel-green eyes attached to a face he hadn’t seen in six months. He had to admit time had done the man many justices, especially with his new look. The last time he saw Doctor Des, the man had a cute, boyish next-door look. Not the current, holding his own against a man twice his size. He’d grown out his hair, which seemed to have done the job of taming it, and he got a couple of tattoos on his arms. Othello wouldn't deny that he liked and missed messing with the doctor.

“Hey, boss, isn’t that the doctor?” Marco said.

“Looks like it,” Othello said, watching the man fight, taking one guy down and jumping on the back of another.

"When did he get here?" Marco mumbled.

Othello felt compelled to intervene and stop the situation but couldn't tear his eyes away from the little doctor's impressive performance. The Beast screamed when the little doctor bit down on his ear. Meaty's hands reached for Doctor Des, and that was when Othello made his move. He sprinted across the dance floor and punched the Beast in the stomach. Doctor Des quickly got off his back when he hunched over, letting Othello kick the Beast in the knee. The Beast howled in pain as bones snapped, bringing him down and ending the fight for everyone.

Othello turned to Doctor Des, who was panting and staring at him wide-eyed. “What in the ever-loving fuck possessed you to fight someone bigger than you?” Othello yelled.

“He started it,” Doctor Des shouted, pointing to the screaming man on the ground.

“I saw you jump on his back,” Othello argued.

“It’s not my fault,” Doctor Des said through gritted teeth. Othello could tell the doctor was drunk off his ass, but he had a determined look in his eyes of a man who knew when he was in the right. “I was minding my damn business, having a drink at the bar, then he and his fucking friends came up to us and offered to buy us a drink. I declined, but he kept pushing no matter how many times I said no. Then he grabbed me as if I was his property. I pushed him, and things escalated. But he started it.”

Othello sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, collecting his thoughts. “Will someone shut this asshole up?” he shouted, pointing at the man on the ground.

“We got it, boss,” Tallen said, looking a bit banged up.

Othello turned to the doctor. “Are you alright? Did you get hit anywhere?”

“No, I’m fine, but he won’t be if he doesn’t get to the hospital soon.”

“He’ll be fine, but do you know how much trouble you just cost me?” Othello huffed, then he grabbed the little doctor and pulled him over to Marco, who was rolling down his shirt sleeve. Othello was glad the doctor didn’t argue with him, since he wasn’t in the mood to fight. He had a long night ahead of him already and needed his strength.

“Take him to my apartment. Stand guard, and don’t let him leave until I deal with this shit.”

“Yes, boss.” Marco reached out for the doctor, who stepped behind Othello.

“What the fuck is going on here? I’m a grown-ass man. What room is he taking me to, and why? Are you trying to kidnap me in a room full of people? Wait, you own this club?”

Othello would have thought the man was acting scared since the fear in his voice didn’t match the I will kick your ass expression on his face.

What a feisty little drunk!

“Yes, this is my club, and Marco is going to take you upstairs so you can rest,” Othello simply explained.

“But I’m not...”

Othello didn’t let him finish and nodded at Marco as he stepped aside.

“This way, sir,” Marco said and began walking away.

The little doctor didn’t protest this time and followed behind Othello’s subordinate. He turned to the rest. “Clear out the club and close down for the night.”

“Boss, the birthday party is still going on,” one of his subordinates informed him.

“I guess the fight didn’t ruin their fun,” he mumbled. “Let them be. They paid for the entire night. But clean this shit up.”

“Yes.”

Just as he was done giving out orders, Iago pocketed his cellphone. “I’ve set up a parley for you and the Rossetti underboss.”

Othello quirked a brow, feeling quite irritated at Iago’s action, but didn’t let it show in his words or expression. “I appreciate it, bro, but wait for my order before you jump the gun next time.”

Iago nodded as an expression flashed too quickly in his eyes for Othello to register what it was, but he pocketed it for later and focused on the matter at hand.

“When and where will we be meeting?”

“East Street Diner, midnight,” Iago answered. “It’s the closest neutral spot.”

Othello looked at his watch, noting that he had an hour and a half. “Alright, you head home.”

“What? Why?” Iago asked, seeming taken aback.

“Iago, seriously, you should head home. Emilia is close to giving birth.”

“But...” he started, but Othello stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I know you want to be there for me, but Emilia needs you there more than me right now.”

Iago went to speak again but stopped as if seeing that Othello had made sense. “You’re always looking out for me, aren’t you? And especially Emilia. If I didn't know you bat for the same team, I'd suspect you're in love with her.”

“We’re brothers. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours,” Othello told Iago as he pulled him into a hug, feeling how tense the other man was. “Honestly, I think Emilia is too good for you, and I'm just trying to get you to see that."

"I know she is." Iago sighed.

"Then stop fucking around on her," Othello told him. "Get rid of the mistresses."

Iago sighed, and his body relaxed, embracing Othello back. “You’re right. I'll do better and be a good man and father to my family."

"I know you can do it, Iago."

"Okay, I’ll head out. Take someone with you. Neutral or not, don’t go alone.”

“I won’t,” Othello assured him as they separated. Minutes later, Iago left, and Othello called Don Alessandro, explaining everything to his father and about his meeting with the Rossetti underboss. After he was done with his call, Othello trudged outside the club to the back entrance and took the short walk to his place, letting the cool air fill his lungs. Ten minutes later, he took the stairs of his apartment to check on the doctor. Othello liked his apartment's location. It was in a busy part of the city but gave him a beautiful view at any time of the day.

“Hey, Marco, go take a break.”

Marco gave a curt nod, then walked away. Othello didn’t bother knocking and entered the room. The lights were off, but it didn’t matter to Othello; the industrial-size windows brought in enough light from the outside so that he could see his way perfectly. But he also installed electronic curtains to close some rooms if he needed privacy. This was his home away from the Romanos' home. No one was allowed to enter without his permission. He had it added on when the club was being built. Othello liked the area because it faced the water, and he liked to stand and drink his coffee at the window in the morning.

His apartment was once part of a chocolate factory with two levels, and Othello bought and remodeled it. The first floor had an open design concept from the living room, dining room, and kitchen. The same thick red drapes hanging on the windows also separated the bedroom, which had an ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet. Othello designed the first floor so that everything could be seen and reached with a few quick steps. On the second level was his in-home gym with a sauna and game room. A door led to the balcony where he grew a garden and had enough space for a pool and lounging.

The place was quiet, and there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen. He didn’t hear the shower on in the bathroom. He knew the doctor was still there since there was no exit except the front door, where his subordinate stood guard. Marco would have told him if the other man had left, which meant the guy was sleeping.

Moving over to the couch, Othello expected to see the little doctor sleeping, but it was empty. Furrowing his brows, Othello scanned the room and spotted a garment lying on the leather chair across from the sofa near the window leading to the large balcony.

He knew he hadn’t left it there since he was a neat freak and always kept his place clean. Moving over to the chair, he saw another article of clothes on the floor, picked it up, and noticed it was the doctor's shirt. Othello tsked at the messiness as he followed the line of clothes that was dropped as the man had undressed. He finally stopped when he reached the bed, pulling back the thick red drapes and spotting the lump under the covers. Walking over to the bed, the only thing he could see sticking out of the cover was the little doctor's dark hair.

“How dare you crawl into someone’s bed naked like you own it?” Othello mumbled, then smiled. He shook his head when he got a light snore in response. Othello wasn’t sure why he’d allowed the man in his personal space when, after he broke up the fight, he simply could have thrown his drunk ass in a car and sent the little doctor on his merry way.

Not wanting to bother with the sleeping form, Othello left his apartment and headed to the meeting location. If he knew the Rossettis’ underboss, the man would show up early at the diner. He left Tallen to stand guard and took Marco with him. As Othello had predicted, Rossetti was already there when they arrived at the diner. Since it was midnight, the restaurant was bustling with customers. Luca Rossetti was sitting at the counter when Othello walked in, and he simply joined the man. He ordered coffee and waited for Luca to start the conversation. Since it was his guys that had come into his territory unannounced and started shit, it was up to him to apologize.

“We will pay for the damage to your establishment,” Luca stated. “I will also have my people come and apologize to you personally. They broke a rule, and it's unsatisfactory.”

“What about the man he assaulted?” Othello asked, leisurely taking a sip of his coffee.

“Who cares about some easy ass?” Rossetti snapped.

Othello growled, not looking at the man. He didn’t like the way Rossetti referred to the little doctor. “And what if that easy ass, as you called him, is one of my people?”

Despite fucking with the little doctor, Othello felt responsible for what happened in his club, even though it wasn’t his fault; especially since the man had saved his life, he felt he owed the doctor protection.

“Fuck, then I supposed I owe you an apology,” he said, even though Othello knew he didn’t mean it. “But did you have to break his fucking leg? Beast is one of my best people.”

Othello didn’t respond, so he simply set his coffee cup down. Othello stood, ready to leave, but Rossetti stopped him. “That’s it?” he asked.

“What more do you want me to say?” Othello looked at him.

“We haven’t seen each other for more than a year, and the first time we met was to discuss something that could have been done over the phone.”

Luca and Othello went back to their teenage years despite being from rival clans. After the Romanos had adopted him and Iago, they’d attended a prestigious middle and high school where they met Luca and disliked each other on sight, without knowing their family backgrounds. As they got older, their differences turned into a friendship, and later, he and Luca had a brief relationship that went no further than kissing, hand jobs, and rubbing their dicks together. They broke it off since neither was willing to bottom for the other. Their friendship wavered over the years, and the more intertwined they got into their perspective clans, the less they saw each other when situations like tonight happened, and whenever they did, there was an underlying tension between them.

“I heard you got shot a few months ago. I wanted to visit, but I didn't think you'd want to see me. Are you doing better?” Luca’s eyes roved over him from head to toe.

“I’m good.” Othello sat back on his stool and ordered another cup of coffee.

"Do you know who did it?"

"We're still looking into it," Othello told him.

"Let me know if I can help," Luca said to him.

"I will," Othello said softly.

“Look, there’s another reason I agreed to meet with you. It's that our don wants to set up a meeting with Don Alessandro.”

“Why?”

“We know what moves your side is making, and we want in.”

“I need to know what you guys are offering before I can take it to the don.”

Luca nodded. “I know, so here is what we propose.” He explained what they were bringing to the table. The meeting went on a little longer than Othello wanted, and he left the diner at three in the morning. When he arrived home, he dismissed Tallen and Marco. He was so exhausted from the night's event he was moving on autopilot as he showered and moisturized his skin quickly. Before leaving the bathroom, he discarded his towel in the hamper. The second his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep immediately.

Des groaned, slowly waking up, frowning. He rubbed his face on the pillow beneath him, hating that it was so hard. The last few times it happened, he and Gray had a heavy night of drinking, and not wanting his friend to drink and drive made him sleep over. Because Des was such a wild sleeper and always got cold at night, he’d sometimes roll over in his sleep, seeking warmth, and end up practically sleeping on top of Gray.

Feeling the sun bearing down on his face, Des moaned and burrowed deeper into Gray’s chest. But then a thought came to his sleep-addled brain: If it was morning, that meant that they had to get up for work.

“Gray, we need to get up, or we’ll be late for work,” Des said sleepily as his arm wrapped around his friend’s hard torso. He expected Gray to respond with his usual “five more minutes,” only to be surprised by something new.

“Who the fuck is Gray?” a sleepy, deep voice said. “I don’t appreciate you calling another man’s name while you’re draped all over me.”

Des sat up quickly and blinked the sleep from his eyes as his gaze traveled up a naked torso. He stopped at the scar for a few seconds, before moving up the man’s face. His eyes widened when he saw who was in bed with him.

“You!” he shouted in surprise.

“Yeah, me,” Moor said.

“What are you doing in my bed?” Des asked, still in shock. “And please tell me you’re not naked.”

The man smirked and went to push down the blankets, but Des shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Why not, Doc? It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, eyeing Des’s chest, and that was when he realized he was naked as well. He hurriedly grabbed the blankets and covered himself.

“Don’t be shy now, baby. Last night, you were so fucking wild, I couldn’t control myself,” he said, sitting up on his elbows as the blankets moved down a little further, revealing more of the man's sexiness.

Des gasped, gaping at him. “We didn’t—?” Before the other man could answer, Des clenched his ass and looked down at himself, sighing in relief when he felt no pain in his backside.

“Answer my question.” Othello’s brows creased together. “Who the fuck is Gray?”

“Why the hell do you need to know that? You sound like a jealous fucking lover, and the last I checked, we didn’t sleep together,” Des huffed, getting out of bed, but was pulled back down and groaned when the other man rolled over on top of him.

“Get the fuck off me, you asshole,” he growled, pushing at the other man’s chest, and thankfully, the sheet and blanket kept them from touching skin to skin.

“How do you know we didn’t fuck last night?” Moor asked in a calm voice, and Des stopped struggling.

“Unless you have a pencil dick, my ass would be hurting right now.”

“What if it was the other way around?” the man asked, quirking a brow.

Des stared at the other man for quite a few seconds, trying to recall his night's events. He’d broken his own rule, and instead of drinking at home like normal, he'd allowed Bianca to talk him into going to some club with her so she could meet her new boy toy, but she had disappeared the second she walked through the door. He'd deal with her later. There was a reason he drank at home alone or with his best friend; when he got too drunk, he'd black out and not remember anything he did the night before. So there was a possibility that he’d topped Moor.

“Did I...” He was about to ask Moor if he’d hurt him, but the man seemed intact, so he changed his question. Swallowing his saliva, he asked, “Was I good?”

Des felt his face flush when Moor burst out laughing and rolled off him and onto the bed.

“Oh, my fucking goodness.” Moor laughed even harder, holding his stomach as if Des had said something so funny. But instead, his ego was bruised. He was that bad. The man thought he was a damn joke.

“You don’t have to laugh at me,” Des snapped. “You could simply tell me where I need to improve.”

Des growled and kicked the man in the leg when he continued to laugh. Then Des crawled out of bed, grabbed the blanket, and wrapped it around himself. Spotting the bathroom, he hurried inside, slamming the door before he screamed, “Asshole!”