The Italian Heir-CASTELLANO SERIES: MARTIN’S STORY

20

There were many moments in life where nervousness got the best of me. Like that time when I gave a presentation in front of my class on what my father did for a living on bring-your-parents-to-work-day, or that time where I had my left knee planted between my forearms at the starting line for a race, or that oval shaped ball tightly tucked under my arm with my face hidden by a helmet, teeth biting down on a mouthguard as I sped towards touchdown , or that time I gave my first big pitch in front of my parents and important business investors of the company after a few months of settling in at Castellano Holdings.

But that fear was only temporary when I summoned every bit of confidence I had in me and overcame it like a champ.

I suppose meeting Erika’s parents wouldn’t be any different now, wouldn’t it?

I’ve known Georgie and Matthew Crawford all my life. They were my godparents when my parents first brought me into their family of two. Aunt Georgie doted on me like her own and Uncle Matt taught me to climb trees (because mom insists, I watched all the Disney movies she loved instead of listening to Britney Spears all day long like dad did when he needed motivation or when he just wanted to annoy his wife) and I wanted to be like Tarzan. But mom clearly did not put up any disclaimers of ‘do not try this at home’, so imagine the look on her face when she saw me and Uncle Matt swing on branches one afternoon when she had come home early from work. It got ugly. Oh, did I mention those two were real good friends?

Both our families went on trips together, we had our annual camping trips with dad’s extended side of the family. The Crawfords’ joined us as well because, hey, dad wanted his new best friend to join in the fun. Don’t tell Uncle Marco I said so. Our families were so close that sleepovers, school, homework, football matches, important events, birthdays, mealtime, and funerals were done together.

The only different thing that told the two families apart was our surnames.

There was nothing I needed permission for when it came to the Crawfords’, but wanting to date their eldest was something I could and did not want to take for granted. It wasn’t something I think I wanted to bypass them for.

I wanted to do this right, by Erika and the very people who had raised and valued her.

Before I even had the time to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, Uncle Matt flung open the large door and greeted me with a side hug whilst holding a spatula in the other. He was dressed in his shirt and slacks—guess he had just returned home from work for a quick lunch with his wife.

Aunt Georgie spent less time at the office nowadays and preferred perfecting her baking skills—especially her cheesecake, which we have all become her guinea pig. Mom never looked at a cheesecake the same ever again after being force-fed over a hundred times by her best friend, but as for my brothers—they saw it as free food.

Two years ago, Aunt Georgie had passed out from work exhaustion at the office and was monitored closely by their family doctor. Since then, Uncle Matt had made sure he picked her up every day at 4 sharp whenever she went to the office and made sure she went to bed early. The concern he had for his wife was unreal.

“Kid, you’re just in time. Georgie had just finished frying those homemade meatballs that she knows you love so much.”

“Wow, I haven’t had those in ages.”

“She made it especially for you when I told her you were coming over.”

I followed him into the familiar entrance and space of their family home. On my right, the familiar living space with the custom-made black leather couch rested not too far away from the unlit fireplace. The large rug lay lifelessly on the ground—it was where we had our game nights and still do at this very spot, with cushions strewn all over the ground and the large glass coffee table was filled with an assortment of snacks and drinks Aunt Georgie always prepares.

Further into the house, there was a formal dining table where their family usually had their dinners when everyone was at home together. Behind the dining table sat a large cabinet where it fit all of Aunt Georgie’s prized possessions—antique tea sets from both Shanghai and England, and on the far right were the floor-to-ceiling windows that had a perfect view of their swimming pool and the barbecue pit.

More framed family photos lined both sides of the walls as we walked past it and into the kitchen. The scent of herbs and fried meatballs filled my nostrils and my stomach began to grumble. “Hi sweetheart, I hope you’re hungry,” Georgie greeted, as she looked over her shoulder.

“I am,” I admitted. “Uncle Matt says you made my favourite meatballs.”

“How could I not? You said I made the best meatballs in the entire universe.” She grins, dishing out the carbonara sauce into a large bowl; Uncle Matt placed the cutlery beside each plate on the small dining table in the kitchen. I preferred eating here, it was much cosier. “Martin was only four when he said that.”

“That comment still stands till this day,” I said, giving Georgie a quick peck on the cheek and helping her move the other dishes onto the dining table. “How was your trip to Melbourne? Did you manage to settle everything you needed to?” Matt asked.

“It was yet another great experience. I met a bunch of great talents and am impressed with how Blunt Corp runs things over there.”

“Blunt Corp huh,” Georgie repeated, her lips twisted. “Isn’t that your ex-girl—” she stopped herself almost immediately after realizing what she was about to say. “Zoe’s dad's company? The advertisement company somewhere in the city?”

“Charles Blunt yes, Aunt Georgie. That’s the one.”

“Oh.” Georgie removed her kitchen mitts and planted a free hand on her hip as she watched us moving around the table arranging everything. “I’ve heard a lot about that man and his company, but do tell me, now that you’ve met him. What is he like?” her brows knit together in genuine curiosity, non-intrusive.

“Well, the encounter was rather riveting, if I may suggest. Just like any other businessman in the industry, he’s competitive, always seeking new opportunities elsewhere and he knows exactly who he wants to do business with and close deals with. That man is pretty selective when it comes to those whom he allows into his circle.”

“In other words, he’s picky,” Georgie concluded.

“Charles Blunt did fly all the way to New York just to speak with Martin.” Matt reminded his wife. “Clearly he holds you in high regard, for a man of that sort of position to make a personal visit to you, he must know you’re a man of importance.”

“Or perhaps, he must think highly of the stocks my parents’ company holds that will greatly benefit it even just by shaking hands with them.” I laughed humorlessly as I watched Matt pull open a drawer and brought out a grater with him. “I’m just merely another employee that he has to get through to my parents.”

“Yet, your parents trust you enough to let you handle this on your own. You really are something, Martin. They don’t produce enough kids like you these days.” Georgie moved towards the refrigerator and grabbed something that looked like a block of cheese.

“Parmesan, boys?” she asked.

“Yes please.” We answered in unison.

Once we were all comfortably seated at the table, none of us said a word for the first few seconds. Georgie and Matt had a knowing look and my hands were sweating buckets and my knees were bouncing on their own accord. Suddenly, even the salt and pepper shakers in front of me—the same kitchen items that I’ve seen and used my whole life-seemed more interesting as if I was noticing them for the first time.

This was tougher than I had imagined now that I have their undivided attention. Aunt Georgie looked like she was trying her best not to smile as she reached for the bowl of salad in front of her spouse, sucking in the hollows of her cheek. I busied myself scooping two meatballs and letting them sit on my plate. All hunger dissipated as the pounding in my heart grew stronger, and my stomach was in tight knots.

Just spit it out already, I told myself.

So, I got the ball rolling. No, I got the meatball literally rolling around my plate. Uncle Matt must have sensed the restlessness but he always had this thing about respecting boundaries, even if he knew what the other person wanted to say.

Then, I took a deep, quiet breath and released it ever so softly through my mouth. “Uncle Matt, Aunt Georgie,” I began. The three of us looked up at the same time. It would be a hilarious moment if it weren’t for what I wanted to say next. Aunt Georgie was all smiles and Uncle Matt looked half-knowing, half-clueless.

“Yes?”

At this point, I wasn’t so sure who answered. But I continued.

“I came here today to ask for your permission for Erika’s hand.”

“What?”

“Come again?”

Okay, that came out wrong.

The couple that sat opposite me had expressions that I'd not seen or seen before. For starters, Aunt Georgie had a look like she'd found the greatest treasure in all the history of mankind but was trying her best to keep it a secret, whereas Uncle Matt had an unreadable expression on his face. It was the first time I'd seen him like this. He was always honest and transparent; you never did have to question his intentions when he was always so upfront about them, only if you asked.

But this, this was new.

And I completely understood it because my dumb ass had phrased my sentence incorrectly.

I wanted to swallow the mountain of meatballs in front of me and get on a rocket and head straight to Mars.

“Right,” I winced, rubbing the side of my neck with a hand. “That came out slightly wrong.”

Uncle Matt visibly let out a sigh of relief, chuckling as he went. Aunt Georgie remained hopeful.

“What I meant to say was, I need your permission to date your daughter.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t need our permission to date our daughter. You’ve always been a part of our family,” Aunt Georgie interjected. As I said, I never had to ask for permission from my godparents for anything ever. It should be the same for this instance. I’d take her word for it and happily be along my way. But then, it defeated my purpose of wanting to pursue Erika intentionally. This trip wouldn’t be worth it if I didn’t so much bother to explain myself as to why I’m even seeking their permission.

I was dead serious about this relationship. My mind was set on it. I wanted to work for it.

I’ve seen the way my parents’ marriage worked out and I’ve seen the way Georgie and Uncle Matt did this married life together as well and the funny thing was, even when I was just a little boy, I knew it was something I desired. To have a love like theirs, to build a family like ours. Sure, there were arguments here and there, disagreements even, but what my parents had between them could not be merely described with words alone.

It was much more than that. All I knew was that they wanted each other in their lives and they worked hard for it. So much time, effort and energy have been invested in it and the outcome of their love was my siblings and me. It was the greatest gift my parents could ever give us—a home.

“Honey.” Matt reached for his wife’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Please let the boy say what he wants to say.”

Aunt Georgie’s kind nod was what encouraged me.

“I’ve always loved Erika; it was only recently I realized that the love I had from when we were kids is so much different to what I feel about her now. She’s always been special to me and I always took extra care when it came to her. When we were kids, there were moments I couldn’t fend for myself, especially when I got bullied by the other kids at school—for being adopted.”

A look of concern swept the couple’s faces as if they were hearing it for the first time. And they were hearing it for the first time, indeed, because I’ve always made sure Erika nor Steve very speak of this to my parents. Even at that age, I did not want to cause a scene because I knew the influence both our families had on almost everything.

“Erika came to my rescue, every single time.” I smiled, recalling the thought. “She was my superhero and she told me I needed to fend for myself. She told me I needed to be my hero at some point because there was no way she’d be able to be there for me every single time I was picked on. Just because I’m older than she is, in the eyes of others, it may seem like I was teaching her a great deal of knowledge, but I must admit, there were many times she taught me lessons I’d never forget. And that’s when I realized I wanted to be more than friends with her. She’s always been my rock—though she doesn’t know it yet, I intend to let her know every single day. In return—” I exhaled once more, all the nervousness I had minutes ago had finally dissipated into thin air. It was now replaced with newfound confidence.

“That girl is my beacon of hope when things get rough, my solace when it's painful, but also my happy place when things are good. I’d like to be the person she can count on through all the days of her life. I want to be there for her like I’ve never been before, I want to love her so fiercely the way she deserves to be loved and treat her the way she’s meant to be treated. But I know it's only right if I come to both of you for permission before we get into anything more serious.”

Aunt Georgie tilted her head a little higher, letting a single tear roll down the corners of my eyes, even Uncle Matt sank back into his chair, running a hand at the side of his jaw, digesting all that I had just said.

The two were awfully quiet. The silence was comfortable, it didn’t intimidate me. If anything, the silence helped because, if it were immediate rejection, there was no time to be wasted.

“Kid.” Matt looked me straight in the eye. I looked up. “I won’t stop you from dating my daughter. But since you both want our approval, I won’t hand it to you so easily and I believe I’m speaking for my wife here as well.”

Aunt Georgie looked at me with fondness in her eyes as she took in her husband’s words.

“The best things in life are meant to be earned. It comes at a price, but only if you deem it worthy of the effort you are about to put in. And I’m not talking about just money—both our families have plenty of it. Your father and I—pride ourselves on being far-sighted. We plan for the years ahead and what goes into the process of achieving what we want. You’re a man of strong values, for someone your age, you have exceeded all our expectations—in other words, you are ambitious.” Matt said sagely, both hands coming to rest on either side of his plate. The look in his eyes told me he meant every word he had just said.

“Hence, I need to know where my daughter Erika fits into your whole ambition. Love…” he trails as he looks at his wife with all the affection he could offer. “Is a tricky thing. It isn’t just mere emotions, it's hard work kid. It's as tough as landing a rocket on the moon, it’s not something you can master overnight, only over time. But I have faith in you. Georgie and I—we’ve been very fond of you and we always want the best for you. Your ambitions and what you have for our daughter, I need to know how they mesh together. If you can prove it to both of us…”

“Then you’ll have our blessings,” Georgie said, smiling as she reached for my hand that I had placed on the table, squeezing them comfortingly.

This time, I looked at them both straight in the eye and said, “Once I set my mind on something that I want, I'll do everything in my power to achieve it.”

“Then I guess you’ll need all the energy you can get.” Matt smiled, his eyes were shining, I could mistake him for being glassy-eyed. “Eat up, the food’s getting cold.” Georgie urged, shaking her head, and letting out a light laugh.

And that pasta dish with meatballs was the best meal I have eaten in a very long time.

**

I made my way back to the office just in time to pick Erika up from the main entrance of our office building. She had a big fat smile on her face when she got in the car along with a gym bag she had safely tucked away in the backseat. “Oh yeah, skiving off work today. I feel like a real badass. Wait till my boss hears about this.” She grins, fastening her seatbelt.

“It seems to me that you like ruffling my feathers on purpose.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s one of my many strengths and I pride myself on being able to do so. Not many people can say they have successfully irked the living hell out of Martin Castellano. It’s an impossible task for mere earthlings to complete.”

“I mean, you had tonnes of practice. But if only they knew you had been doing it since day one.”

As I stuck my foot on the accelerator, the car began picking up its speed and eased itself onto the busy streets of New York. Traffic wasn’t as bad at that very hour, but it wasn’t any better either. Minutes later, we were coursing along the highways, passing by the familiar view of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“A country club?”

Before I left for my trip to Melbourne, there was a specific task I had asked Erika to help me out with and that was to help me compile a few of her favourite activities that she loved doing or had always wanted to try. I’d told her I’d do it with her, just so I could put an end to people who are always calling me a workaholic.

Not that it wasn’t true.

But it's something I no longer want people to know me for anymore.

“Erika, I don’t think we’re dressed for the occasion.”

“Yet,” She corrected. “But you’re not the only person I know who’s good at planning ahead.”

“Please do enlighten me as to who this other person is. I’d like to meet her.”

She looked around as if she were looking for someone in particular; I too followed her gaze out of curiosity. Stopping abruptly, she turned around and pointed to herself, beaming with pride. “Oh, it's me.”

“Oh tesoro…” I trailed, sighing in defeat. She looked so impressed with that little stunt she pulled, I just had to kiss her square on the lips. That will wipe that smirk off that pretty face of hers.

She pulled back reluctantly. “Come on,” she dragged my arm up the two steps that led towards the front desk of the reception counter. “Since you and I are skiving from work, we need to make the best out of this. Remember that time when we skipped classes back in school?”

“I remember no such thing.”

“Oh yeah, it was just something I’d hoped your then cute little uptight butt would do.”

She thinks I have a cute butt.

“Good afternoon, Miss Crawford. What can I do for you today?”

“Hello Jenny, I made a court reservation for this afternoon at three. For Tennis.”

The raven-haired woman typed away noisily on her keyboard and her eyes darted from left to right on the large computer screen, effectively attending to Erika’s request. I haven’t got the slightest clue as to how often Erika had ventured in here. But then again, as I said, there were new things that I was now only discovering about her and it intrigued me.

I looked around the space we were in—there was a small lounge area by the side with a coffee table perched at the centre where a neat stack of magazines sat. A vending machine filled with an assortment of health drinks sat on each row with multiple buttons to press. Against the wall, there was a large bulletin board perched on which, what I presumed, held all the information a guest needed. To my left, a large built-in TV screen was displaying slideshows of the series of upcoming events at the club.

I moved over towards the Directory board where all the available amenities were written in gold engraved on a large marble plate. There was a pool and jacuzzi, a gym centre, tennis, badminton and squash courts, yoga rooms, a dining lounge, a golf court and lodging in the south wing, which I assume were for guests who wanted to stay the night.

“Hey, you ready?’ Erika quipped. “I sure am. The receptionist seems to know you. How often do you come here?”

“Quite, and mostly alone.”

“But why? Aren’t your parents’ members of that country club? What was its name? Harvard something?”

“Of New York City, yes.” She said flatly. “I always hated it there. For once, I just wanted to be somewhere where people didn’t recognize me. A place where I can just do whatever sports I want in peace instead of having pretentious conversations over an overrated meal that’s way too overpriced. But here it’s different: people don’t know me here. I’ve made a few friends with the all-year-rounders here, they’re really nice.”

We left the reception and walked around the building and passed the swimming pool area. There were some people who were sunbathing and the rest were doing laps in the water. Further down the stone path we were taking was the dining area, which had two levels.

It was designed in a way that there were no windows so that fresh air could venture into the space. Guests were seated and chatted away quietly on the many rattan chairs that had plush cushions on the seats, waitresses in black and white uniforms moving around swiftly serving food and drinks on trays.

Finally, the tennis courts came into view. There was only one that was occupied by two ladies chatting animatedly with each other. One of them turned around and then waved.

“Erika!” a woman who seemed to be in her early sixties with slightly greying hair greeted her, and beside her, stood another older woman dressed in a loose cotton shirt and a tennis skirt. “Hey, you’re here!”

“Madison, Nat. Glad you could make it!”

“Of course, I dropped the grandkids off at daycare for the day. Look! The weather has been absolutely lovely.” Madison chirped before shifting her attention towards me. “I see you brought a friend.”

“Ah,” Erika blushed. “Well, ladies, this is Martin. Martin, that's Madison and Natalie. My friends.”

“The Martin?” Nat winked suggestively, to which Erika had gone to a shade of bright red. “Ladies, a pleasure to meet you. I’m the boyfriend, Martin.” I added cheekily, much to Erika’s surprise and protest.

“Erika! You didn’t mention you had a boyfriend who looks like that actor, Chris Pine! Your brief description of him does this handsome young man no justice!” Madison steamrollered on, eyeing me from head to toe.

My smirk grew wider with each passing minute, Erika ignored me and suddenly found the floors much more intriguing. I planted a kiss on the side of her temple and mumbled some words of affection that she could only hear.

“I hope you’re joining in on today’s friendly tennis match. The other ladies can be gruesome at this sport. It’s like we’ve trained our whole lives for it.”

The other older ladies? Just who exactly Erika had been making friends with?

“It’s a rookie mistake,” Erika muttered under her breath once dropped her gym bag on one of the empty benches— it was as if she could easily read through my mind. “You really shouldn’t underestimate them, they’re seriously pros on the courts.”

“Tesoro, I’ve not held a racket in hand for years, you know I’ve always been a football junkie,” I said a little worriedly. “Is that fear I sense?” she raised her brow, folding her arms.

“Baby, you look much more intimidating when you do that. But I somehow find you ten times more attractive.”

“Don’t you distract me, young man.” She bit her lip but then cleared her throat, looking all serious again. “Martin, all I ever hear people say about you is just how perfect you are, that you’re well-rounded. Are you really going to allow a few old ladies to make you question your abilities? Or it's just all ego talk when you say you’re the best at everything?”

“Ma’am, I’m going to need whatever it is you have prepared for me. Let’s go win this match.”

After getting changed into the clothes Erika had prepared for me, I sat on one of the benches and observed the racket that Erika borrowed from me. It seemed like she used it quite frequently and I had no idea that she even played tennis. The overgrip was freshly wrapped and the strings were newly restrung. I tested the tension of the strings against the palm of my hand, flipping the racket around. It was a sleek black and white Wilson 97 racket—the one Federer uses.

Erika clearly knew her stuff.

“Are you about to make out with that racket or are you coming to play with us?”

My girlfriend approached me with the simplest bra top and leggings that wrapped around her legs and butt so perfectly. Under the warm sunlight, I could see just how strong and finely built she was, how the natural light really emphasized her beauty and elegance even. The way she tightened her high ponytail with both arms flexed made me lick my lips unconsciously.

I was crazy in love.

“Since when have you become so bossy?”

“Mister. You’re on my turf. You play by my rules.” She said cockily.

“Really? You sure you won’t get distracted staring at me like you’re not already mentally undressing me?”

“Nice try Marts. But I’ve already got that image engraved inside my head. And as for undressing you?” her voice dropped an octave lower and she approached me. Her lips casually brushed the shell of my ear, which caused the hairs on my arms to stand. “I’d rather do that in private instead. I really don’t like sharing what’s mine with anyone.”

I grunted when my girlfriend stepped away.

“Come on ladies.” I smacked the racket against my thigh. “Time is of the essence.”

When everyone else was busy cheering, yes, by everyone, there were at least six other older ladies that joined the court as well. It’s the ladies’ versus one man, that sort of thing. I looked behind my shoulder, “You know I love you, right?”