"I do, but I don't want to know why that detective has a problem with you."
"Okay, so what do you want to know?"
"Was the raid on my parents' home caused by you?"
"I simply passed on some of the information; what the other party wanted to do with it is their business."
"So there's more that could bury my father?"
"Not just him, Tesoro," Othello said. "Your mother as well." He stared at Des for a few seconds before speaking. "I can tell you what else I have on them, and you can do whatever you want with the information."
Des shook his head. "No, I made a deal with you that whatever you found out, I didn’t want to know. It might sound crass, but my parents made their beds, and now they must lie in them."
"Are you sure?"
"I am. As long as they leave me out of it the way they have my entire life, I don't care what happens." He bit his lips, wanting to feel a little pain. "Does that make me sound like a terrible person or son?"
"That's not for me to answer, Tesoro." He stretched out a hand, and Des, like a magnet, went straight to him, straddling Othello's legs. "You know that you can ask me for help, and I can make it all go away. Your father can win the race, and everything will be as it was. Or you can use me to exact your revenge for the hurt they caused you." He cupped one of Des's cheeks. "I am your sword, Tesoro. Use me to strike your enemies no matter who they are, and I will make them bleed."
Des had never had anyone speak in such a manner to him or want to fight his battles for him. Common sense said he shouldbe afraid, but he was so aroused he wanted to give and bear all to Othello.
"And what should I give you in return?"
Othello smiled. "The one thing no one else can have." He placed a hand on Des's chest. "Your heart."
Des leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, wanting to tell Othello that he’d had it from the moment they met, but all he could muster was a nod as he tightened his arms around Othello's neck.
"Hold on to the information for now. Let me see how he digs himself out of this hole."
Othello pecked the tip of Des's nose. "As you wish."
Des sipped his coffee leisurely,looking at the two people across from him who appeared as if their world wasn't slowly crashing down around them. It had been a few days since the news came out, and although things had died down, it was still a topic of discussion.
The detective didn't return to talk with Des, nor did the press. He was thankful that his parents kept him somewhat away from the public eye, and no one bothered him. So, of course, he was curious when his mother called earlier that morning and asked that he meet with them.
Feeling spiteful, Des asked Othello to tag along, who’d only chuckled when he made the request. By the way his father was glaring at Othello, and it seemed his effort wasn't in vain. Theyhad been sitting at the table for over five minutes with neither party saying a word.
"Desmond," Ava said, clearing her throat.
"Yes, Mother."
"Aren't you going to introduce us to your companion?"
Des looked at Othello, noticing the sly, playful smirk on his lips. He grabbed Othello's hand, steepling their fingers together and putting it on the table for his parents to see.
"He's my lover, Othello Moor," Des said.
"I forbid it," David growled just as Ava spoke. "Lover?"
"What the hell do you forbid?" Des said, facing his father. "You no longer have a say in my life."
"You have been nothing but a damn disappointment from the day you were born," David hissed. "No carrier has been born into our bloodline, and to make matters worse, you're with a man, utterly disgusting."
Months ago, those very words would have crushed him to the bone, but now he could face the words head-on.
"Why did you call me here? Because if it's to insult me, you could have done that over the phone," Des snapped.
"Moor," his father said, ignoring his question. "Are you, by chance, Othello Moor, son of Alessandro Romano?"
