“I heardyou 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 timetogether, 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, feelingannoyed that there wasn’t a guard at the door that shouldn’t have been unlocked.
