The Italian Heir-CASTELLANO SERIES: MARTIN’S STORY

6

Marco Salvatore and his wife Ana were seated comfortably in the lounge room of the Castellano family home when I arrived a little later in the evening. Mom was already in the kitchen with an apron tied around her waist. I kissed my mother on the cheek as I removed my necktie, rolled up my sleeves and began chopping up garlic, onions, mushrooms—all the ingredients that would go into mom’s cooking.

I still wonder how she does it—a full-time working woman/wife who never misses a meal with her family, cooking for her family.

“How was Erika’s first day?” mom asked, searing the premium beef with a blow torch lightly, the meat was gradually turning brown at the top and recoiling in size. I mentioned the meetings she sat in with me, the note-taking, the potential investors that showed up today (her ears perked when she heard one or two familiar names). I easily left out the part where Mr. Tate had proposed working with me as I hadn’t made up my mind on that just yet. Last but not least, I also mentioned Zoe showing up in the lobby.

“Your father mentioned having dinner the other night with her father and her. I just can’t seem to wrap my mind around the fact that it was your first meeting with your ex’s father.” Mom said whilst stirring the butter in the pot and I shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“And singing lessons? That’s the best you got?” I tilted my head to the side to look at her. She grinned. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I should have showed up if it meant something to you.”

“Mom, please.” I stopped her. “It didn’t mean anything to me.” Then I told her about the note that Zoe had left at my office about a week ago. My mother and I were close, there was no reason for me to hide menial things like that from her, but there were also times where I refrained from telling her certain things—I didn’t want her to worry about me.

From the look on my mother’s face, she looked like she was about to console me. She knew, despite that exterior I had put up with after Zoe left me, I was a little messed up, a little disorganized even in the emotional department. “Don’t you worry mama.” I smiled warmly. Mom liked it when I called her like how I did when I was much younger. “There are other things on my mind that I need to worry about, the past shouldn’t matter anymore.”

She sighed and nodded. “I know…you’re no longer the little boy that used to run around the house without his pants anymore.”

“Mom!” I groaned.

This evening, for starters, mom prepared seared giant scallops and drizzled them with yellow buttery sauce on top, followed by wagyu flamed cuts with pumpkin mash and grilled asparagus on the side as the main course; for dessert, dad baked tiramisu cheesecake. Oh yeah, did I mention dad was a pretty good cook himself even before he met mom?

“You look so much older than the last time we saw you kids.” Marco said for the third time that evening to my siblings and me.

“It happens when humans age, Marco.” Dad reached for his glass of wine beside his plate. “Now don’t you feel too left out when your big head is ripe with old age. Tell me Ethan, does it feel obnoxiously heavy on your shoulders?” Marco mused, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “I assure you, I’m ageing like fine old wine.” Dad shot back.

“Oh will the two of you ever learn to behave at the table?” Ana rolled her eyes as she cut a huge slice of cake and slid it onto her husband’s plate. “You enjoy having a go at me instead of your old man, don’t you? I can’t help it if my best friend speaks like he’s losing his marbles.” Dad chuckled. It was dad’s little joke between him and Marco. Marco and Ana were at least 10 years apart in age but that didn’t stop them from getting married (once Dad had taken it out on his best friend from sneaking around with his baby sister).

“How do you put up with this old fart Lizzy, really?” Marco clicked his tongue, reaching for another spoonful of pumpkin mash.

“We’re literally the same age, voi idiota.” Dad argued.

“Their bickering is the only thing that keeps them young. Don’t sweat it Ana.” Mom waved her hand at her sister-in-law who narrowed her eyes at her older brother seated at the front end of the dining table. “What?” Dad said a little innocently. “You never say that in the bedroom, you said with age comes…”

Mom stuffed a whole spoonful of tiramisu in dad’s mouth to keep the rest of the innuendos from spilling out. “Okay that’s enough from you darling,” Mom said quickly.

Alexander and Elijah looked at each other and snickered, muttering to each other under their breaths. “Do you think Uncle Marco’s showing signs of the early stages of dementia?”

I was seated in between the twins and my brothers. It was much needed—to keep them from bickering because it happens too often at the table.

The twins shot their brothers a scowl; the girls’ sharp hearing never ceased to amaze me. “Geez, as if you two weren’t thinking about the same thing.” Elijah said with an eye roll. “That’s why it’s said up in here.” Lucy pointed to her head, “You uncultured swine.” I patted both my Alexander who was seated on my right on his shoulder. “When will you ever learn to behave yourselves at the table?”

“You’re always siding with them, fratello, geez.”

“When you’re as adorable as your sisters, maybe I’ll think about it.” I gave my wine glass a little swirl before sipping on it. At this point, the twins were already gloating. It wasn’t news that I spoiled my twin sisters rotten.

While we’re having family meals, we rarely talked about work at the table—which was a good thing because that gives us ample time to catch up with each other after a full day of running around. I have made it a point to come home for dinner at least 4 times a week ever since I moved out. Occasionally, my siblings would come over for meals if our parents were out of the city for business trips (they went everywhere together), followed by a sleepover in the guest rooms.

It was getting late into the night, Uncle Marco and wife Ana were already leaving for the hotel they’d booked nearby. Just as they left, Erika’s car made its way into our driveway. “Oh no, did I miss them?” she asked as she got out of her car, slamming the door real hard to which the men of the Castellano house winced.

Men and cars, something women will never understand.

“Don’t worry darling, you’ll get to see them real soon.” Mom assured her while dad looked at Erika’s car door pitifully. “Okay, uhm, Martin, I sort of need your help on something.” She now turned to me. “Let me guess, your report?” I didn’t have to guess too hard.

“Yeah, but I think I’ll just catch you at work tomorrow.” She said, looking around the tired faces of my parents and siblings.

“It’s fine. But we’ll go back to my place.”

“Sure.” She chirped. After bidding my parents goodnight, we then headed back to my place, which was just 10 minutes away. I was half-hoping Steve wasn’t at my place, lying on my couch (he says it’s the softest furniture in the world ) and munching on my snack bars—that’s the only snack I keep besides the Oreos where I specifically hid behind the oven (they seem to disappear magically).

Thankfully, he wasn’t there when we arrived.

“Give me a couple of minutes, will ya? I need to take a shower. Make yourself at home…like you always do.” I dropped my briefcase on one of the dining chairs and bounded up the stairs. Erika and I have been alone many times. This time shouldn’t be any different, right?

There was a time when we were younger. We had always slept in the same bed on afternoon naps and we were each other’s playmates every single day. As we got older, there was this thing where she was bewitched by her other girlfriends that boys have cooties—but she didn’t have a problem sticking like glue to me, which irked her friends to no end.

Then junior high began. It was a time when we were more aware that our bodies and physical appearance were changing rapidly. There was a certain unspoken boundary between a boy and a girl and how we should behave around one another, but it was one of those things we never really placed importance on. I remember Erika was crying all day when she got her first pimple on her nose and told me not to look at her because she thought it made her look ugly. 15-year-old me gave her a short presentation on puberty and told her it was okay. I even went as far as using my mother’s marker and made a red dot on my nose—I didn’t know that the marker was permanent, and that alone took me days to get rid of it. And then came a day where the topic of ‘cute boys’ suddenly seemed way more interesting to her than her C- grade on her math paper.

Later in high school, there was this thing where every single teen’s sole purpose in life was dating—at least now they were old enough to realize what went beyond in the world of relationships (if you know, you know). Mind you, I’ve never had a girlfriend all throughout high school, but that didn’t mean the idea of having one repelled me, it was just that I didn’t find any girl worth spending my time with except my best friends and Erika (who dated guys who weren’t even worth her time) and none of which lasted longer than 3 months.

College, well, you know the rest. Zoe came to be a huge part of my life and that somehow made Erika distance herself from me and that made me realize that the two girls never really got along. And it was also during that time I realized, somewhere in the middle of my relationship with Zoe, for the first time I saw Erika as a woman. And as to how and why? That’s something I’ll get to later.

When I went back downstairs, Erika was lying on the armrest of the couch on her stomach, butt sticking out in the air while her fingers moved rapidly against her phone screen. I tip-toed towards the couch and grabbed the nearest pillow I could find. “Hit me with that pillow and I swear you’ll howl like a wolf when you get your balls kicked.” She warned me without even turning around. At the top of the screen, I had a quick glimpse of the name ‘Lucien’ on it.

I threw the pillow back down on her legs. “That’s what I thought,” she said gingerly.

“Since when do you pay attention to your surroundings?”

“I could literally see your sneaky ass through the reflection of my screen.” She retorted.

Her stomach rumbled and she pulled a face, her lips all scrunched up looking slightly embarrassed. “Have you not had dinner before coming over?” I asked.

“I had a little snack with Lucien at the café but that was…how long has it been?” she lifted her phone to check the time on her phone. “Three hours?” It came out more like an exclamation than a statement.

“And did you tell him you were hungry?” I asked, raising a brow as I moved over to the kitchen, looking through the fridge.

“Obviously not, if I eat any more than those 3 donuts he got me...” she trailed.

“Only three? He was definitely skimping on you.” I snorted. She ignored my statement. I rummaged through the chilled container box and pulled out a Tupperware of mozzarella cheese, sausages and a loaf of bread. “What are you doing?” she asked, her phone dumped smack against the couch and she pranced, literally pranced into the kitchen. Her hair was sticking out in all directions after lazing around earlier.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making you a sand—” I stopped myself. “What?” she asked innocently, coming to halt behind me to peek over my shoulder. “I sure as hell hope you did not hang around that French boy with your hair looking like its’ been in an air fryer.” I nudged at her hair with the side of my jaw.

She pushed her head against the center of my shoulders with attempted force but I did not budge one bit, she then spoke with her voice muffled. “I appreciate your concern for me, but the only people who have seen me looking like a hobo are our friends and you, consider it an honor.”

“Sweetheart, that is certainly not how I feel about your dressing in those days.”

She let out a sigh of frustration and pushed herself off me, turning to leave. “You are the meanest prick, I swear.”

“Alright I’m sorry, where are you going?” I grabbed the edge of her sweater and she smacked my hand away. “You’re never sorry.” She sneered. “Now let go of my sweater, I need to use the bathroom.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line whilst I trained my eyes on her, thinking it was her preparing herself to ignore me for the next few hours while being there.

“Why? Do you want to come with us?” she asked irritably.

“You’d love that, won’t you?” I smirked.

“Well, it’s not like there’s anything on you I’ve not seen.” Her smart remark somehow came out wrong, how did I know it was wrong? Because I could feel my own face burning and a faint tint of pink filled her cheeks. “I assure you it’s been years and much has changed.

” Yeah Martin, I’m sure there was a crying need for you to further elaborate on that aspect.

“I didn’t ask for details, Martin.” Now it was her turn to smirk. I’m sure she was feeling triumphant that she had finally got back at me.

Once she disappeared out of sight, I grabbed an empty cup and poured myself a full glass of iced water, chugging it down took me less than 2 seconds. There was absolutely no reason to feel embarrassed, is there?

She came back minutes later looking all freshened-up; the top half of her hair was tied up and it reminded me of a baby palm tree.

“Are you okay? You look flustered.” She looked at me carelessly as she began working on the loaf of bread. “Are you still thinking about you-know-who that came by earlier today?”

Nothing could stop me from replaying Erika’s invite earlier in my head, so I merely nodded although the thought of Zoe did not stay at all as the day progressed. “There are only a handful of times I can avoid her, but I’d still have to meet her soon. Come to think of it, avoiding her at all costs suddenly makes me look like I’m still hung-over her.”

“But you aren’t…aren’t you?” Erika asked carefully.

“I can assure you, I don’t intend to reminisce about our past relationship. I just don’t see a need for exes to be working together.”

“Many would argue that it wouldn’t be professional. And I know you, Martin, you’re never one to mix business and personal feelings.” She recalled thoughtfully, watching me rummage the fridge for olive butter.

“But I would argue that I can choose whomever I want to do business with.” I said, kicking the fridge door shut with my heel and proceeded with defrosting the sausages in the microwave for a bit—they were ice cold to begin with.

“I would argue, as much power and status you hold in this company, Castellano Holdings still belongs to your parents. Have you at least sat down to hear what Zoe has to say about her business preposition? Who knows, aside from her good looks, there are other things she could offer you,” she asked, raising a brow as she leaned against the counter.

“Are you perhaps siding with her now? The one person you hated so much?” I said, hating that I sounded so indifferent all of a sudden.

“I don’t hate her, and this has nothing to do with me siding with Zoe or anything.” Her voice sounded agitated now.

“But you’re keen on meeting her more than I do. Why is that?”

“Maybe because you think you’re too good for her, the same way you denied me countless times before allowing me to carry out my assignment in your company.” She shot back, her eyes trained hard on me as if daring me to go on.

“This situation differs entirely, Erika.” My shoulders sagged; I hadn’t realized they were tense in the first place. “You have no idea what Zoe is really like. She’s ambitious and she’ll stop at nothing, disregarding everything and everyone else until she reaches her goal.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re intimidated by what an ambitious woman can do?” she said indignantly, stabbing the piece of bread with a knife.

“I’m just taking precautions, like any practical Financial Advisor with brains would.”

“You hate taking risks, don’t you?” she asked. The microwave beeped, the sausages were defrosted. Neither of us said anything, thus making the silence feel almost deafening even. I stopped what I was doing and took a step forward towards her. I towered her effortlessly. “If I were really afraid of taking risks, did you think you’d be able to wear your Intern ID today?” I asked quietly.

She stared at me blankly as if she was trying to figure out as to why she was a liability to me, but I made no move to continue this any further. All I wanted was a quiet evening with her, perhaps even without all these bombarding questions, but I think we’re way past that. I relented, not wanting to give out more than I should. This begs the question. Did I hire Erika on a whim or was it for other selfish reasons?

“How about we play Mario kart on the Play Station? That sounds good to you?” I offered, taking a step back ready to heat up the pan to fry those sausages, but she grabbed my forearm; before she even asked, I beat her to it—for I already knew what she had in mind. “You’re not a burden and you’re not a liability.”

You remind me of myself when I was younger. The eagerness to learn…anyone with such a thirst for knowledge should never be turned away—was what I wanted to say. But I didn’t.

“You meant that?” she asked, her defiant look softened, her lips into a pout as she let go of my forearm. I pinched her lips with three fingers and nodded reassuringly. “And as for Zoe’s case, you need not to speak on her behalf. Need I remind you, I’m still your superior at the office. I will meet her like I had told her and hear what she has to say but on one condition.” I said, holding up one finger with my other free hand.

“Wot?” she tried to speak but her lips were still mushed together. “I want you there with me, regardless if she gives you the cold stare or throws a snarky comment. Please also do refrain from any form of cat fight or I’ll have you both removed from the premises by security. Am I clear?”

She nodded and I released her lips; she rubbed them with the back of her hand. “I can’t promise I won’t give her any smart-mouthed comments, that is, if she provokes me first.” Erika said grimly while I removed the sausages from the microwave and placed them on the cutting board.

“A minute ago you sounded like you pitied her and now your words are telling me otherwise. Tell me, why are women so complicated?”

“And this is coming from a man who’s only ever had one girlfriend, ever.”

“That’s it. You’re not getting a snack anymore,” I said.

“You know what they say about men.” She shrugged hastily. “They can be really petty.”

Erika’s initial plans to work on her assignment took a slight detour and we were both at the PlayStation console, nudging one another so that the latter would lose their controls on their avatar’s race cart. “Stop cheating! I’m not kidding when I say I’ll restart this game right now!” I threatened, keeping her away by a leg’s length, if there’s even such a thing, what with my foot sticking her away from me.

“Then promise me you won’t say a word about this to Rhea, all she needs to know is that working with me has been a real joy and pleasure. Make sure to drop a hint that I’m right on track with my report writing.”

“So let me get this straight, you want me to lie?” I gasped mockingly. “Oh don’t be such a twat.” She shot back, “Oh look, I just won! Ha!” she let out an excited shriek and dropped her console, doing the little body roll which irked me to no end. “I demand a rematch. You’ve been distracting me all evening.”

“With my good looks or sass?”

“Your poor gaming skills did the trick, so much as you feel the need to cheat.”

I hadn’t realized when or how Erika fell asleep with her head leaned against the seat of the couch, but when I did, I switched off the game console, removed the controller from her hands and scooped her up in my arms.

She didn’t even rouse from her sleep—that was how tired she was. I wanted to tell her she did well on her first day but I think she already knew without me actually saying it. I tucked her into my bed, pulled the heavy duvet over her body and stuffed a pillow under her head.

I sat there at the side contemplating where I should sleep tonight because it dawned on me that this was the first time in a long time Erika was sleeping in my bed; the first time since my break up that I had a woman that I occasionally dreamt about lying on my bed.