Six 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 admitthe 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 hecould 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 seenin 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.
