IT'S ALMOST LUNCH, yet Marco Tarragona, CEO of Tarra Gona, a multi-million dollar print and digital media company, sat at his desk perusing some documents. He accessed the version available only to executives. Viewing the app's dashboard, he frowned at the erratic and downward dip in the company's overall productivity in the last four months.
He remembered that a board meeting would be held in a few months. He hated dealing with politics within the board.
After leaning backward to find a comfortable spot on the luxurious chair to relax his shoulders, he took off his eyeglasses and placed them on the desk. Then he pinched the top of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to relax.
A moment later, he put on the wired earphones to listen to curated industry-related articles on his laptop. To avoid straining his eyes and triggering headaches, he installed a text-to-speech app on his phone, tablet, and laptop; hence, instead of reading articles, he listened to them.
While listening, he perused the documents in the thick binder.
When Marco spends too many hours in front of the screen, it triggers his migraines. Thus, his executive assistant had meticulously prepared this binder containing miscellaneous documents, reports, and other items deemed of interest to him. Sadly, he needed to find a temporary replacement soon because she had requested maternity leave.
While flipping through the pages, a resume with the heading 'Luke Anthony Reyes' caught his attention. His mood darkened. He leaned back in his leather executive chair. He closed his eyes and rested his arms on the chair's armrest.
"Damn it. This kid will never give me a break," Marco cursed under his breath, pissed off upon realizing that Luke's mother was pulling strings. "She's back to scheming again. I guess some lessons weren't learned. Annoying leeches—"
His head began to ache. He leaned forward and firmly placed his elbows on top of the desk. With a gentle motion, he rubbed the heels of his hands on his forehead.
"She has the nerve to make her son spy on me," Marco said, gritting his teeth. "If I knew this would happen, I should have agreed to his plea of staying in Europe—indefinitely."
A few months ago, Luke called Marco, informing him of his preference to stay in Europe. But Marco got tired of Minerva and Uncle Phillip's whining about how they missed their son. Aunt Helena, Luke's guardian while living abroad, trusted Marco's decisions and would only allow Luke to return to Blake City with his approval.
On another pressing matter on today's agenda, the family's matriarch, Catalina, set a date for Marco. He despised it. He knew that his grandmother played a matchmaker not out of love but to further their business interests.
He recalled the dinner with Catalina a few days ago. She reminded Marco that as long as he remained a member of the household, his acquiescence would bring him peace of mind.
"Just go along with it. Enjoy it. Learn a thing or two before you start a revolution," Catalina remarked coldly over dinner. "Spare yourself from the headache."
The only thing he could bargain with was to have the date take place at Cafe Tendre. Located across from the corporate building, he could easily return to the office after the date.
He stood up and paced around.
The corporate office has the best view of Blake City. His office on the 28th floor offered an unobstructed sunset view. From there, he observed the dark, heavy clouds threatening to bring rain.
"Even the tempest cannot cancel Catalina's matchmaking scheme," he murmured.
His phone rang. It was Joey, someone who worked discreetly for him, conducting investigations.
"Hey, what's up?" Joey's usual chipper vibe greeted his ears. "Sorry, I couldn't take your call earlier because the butler was around. You know he's a pain in the—"
Marco cleared his throat. He's mildly annoyed. Joey was doing a great job except for one thing: being a chatterbox.
"Oopsie—" Joey spoke in a serious tone this time. "Julian's coming soon. I'm not sure when exactly though. Two nights ago, his mother and Attorney Park came here. Their meeting with your grandma was unscheduled. They were in the study room for about three hours. They're trying to convince your grandma to let Julian come home. And by the looks of it, she's approving. The hustle and bustle of attorneys and that PR guy has started."
Marco fell silent. He suspected they were planning to oust him as CEO in favor of Julian, his half-brother.
He's displeased at the direction of how things were going. His thoughts wandered away from the phone conversation.
Attorney Francis Park, 40 years old, was married to his Aunt Manuela. She's 12 years older than him. He's the fixer.
Julian was sent abroad after a fistfight broke out between him and Marco. That face-off happened four years ago, during the shareholder meeting when Julian refused to acknowledge Marco's CEO position. The incident was leaked to the media. The Tarragonas were put in the spotlight and they didn't like that. The scandal blemished the family's reputation. They had to send Julian abroad to end the media fiasco and prevent the company's stock from plummeting. It's bad enough that the bastard son, Marco, has to take the helm of the family's business.
"Hey, boss! A-are you there?" Joey's worried voice echoed in his ears.
"Y-yeah. Go on."
"Hmmm... You know what's gonna piss you off, boss?"
Marco kept his silence even though he was close to saying, "Damn it. Such impertinence."
He preferred formality with his employees. Emotional distance was always his safety net. His disposition turned grave. One more familiarity, he'd snapped.
"It's City Administrator Loise Pedro-Smith. Yep, your date's mom dropped by yesterday for tea. Your grandma has lots of visitors this week."
"Visitors? Who?"
"Well, she normally declines entertaining visitors at her insane million-dollar humble cottage. The view from the lake must be breathtaking—" Joey gasped in admiration at his grandmother's wealth. "Anyway, I heard that the city administrator has been trying to secure a meeting for several months. It was only granted last night. Madam Catalina rarely left the estate, you know. Nothing to worry about her health, I guess. I haven't noticed anything unusual with the chef's recipe—"
"Catalina is fit as a fiddle," Marco responded casually. "I want you to profile the City Administrator. Alright, that would be all."
"Hmmm... Hey, boss. Do you think you're gonna get married?" Joey chuckled. "Your grandma and Loise were pretty chummy."
"Mind your business, Joey."
"So-sorry, boss," she said, apologizing. "There was another visitor, but I don't know his identity. I just overheard his name. Constantine. He arrived yesterday."
"Constantine," he spoke akin to a whisper.
He hadn't heard that name for a long time. It made his blood boil. His headache intensified. Everything would change now that Tarragona's hound was back in town.
"Listen carefully," Marco spoke in a worried tone. "He's a dangerous man. Stop asking around about him."
"W-why sound so dead serious, boss?" Joey was agitated upon hearing Marco's warning.
"I want you off the household staff list. Your job there is done," Marco said sternly. "Understood?"
Joey knew the drill. "Yes."
When the call ended, Marco was left to his worrisome thoughts and a migraine.
"Ungrateful son of—" he couldn't hide his anger. "When they're struggling with the company, they brought me in. And now, when everything's in place, they'll cast me out."
"F*ck," he said, angrily, as he slammed his fist on the top of the leather sofa.
He took the medicine for his migraine from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He crushed the tablet between his teeth. While loosening his tie, he noticed the rain started to pour, albeit lightly, and then gained momentum.
He massaged his forehead. Lately, he's been extremely stressed. There's a problem with the acquisition of an independent book publishing company. The board demands business expansion. Low productivity. Issues in HR that he thought were resolved. He managed to deter the publication of a damning article. Then there's the bickering among the Tarragonas. And Marco was caught in the crossfire.
The thought of Constantine being summoned by Catalina made him furious. Tarragona's hound. The man who would do anything to make sure that the Tarragonas would remain on top of the food chain.
Marco realized that no matter how he elevated the company, he would be nothing more than a means to an end. He's the bastard son. He's at the mercy of whoever would be next in line for succession. And that would be Julian.
When his phone buzzed, he was brought back to this afternoon's engagement. It was a message from his grandmother's executive assistant. She sent an email reminding him of the date and attached screenshots from his date's most recent Instagram posts.
Marco scoffed, sickened by putting on a show.
To his standards, it's a boring date. But to her date's 3.5 million social media followers, Camilla Pedro-Smith was an epitome of class. She was born into a rich family. She's well-connected to influential personalities in the city.
The email reiterated he brought Camilla's favorite cotton cheesecake. That dessert was exclusively available at Chef Sultri's Bakery + Coworking Cafe. There's a screenshot of Camilla's IG Story time-stamped 30 minutes ago. She's excited about the trending cotton cheesecake.
This date was all about assessing their likability as a couple and how their respective PR could blow it out of proportion. It's for publicity. Perhaps, to bury some issues that the public should be looking into. He didn't like that. But what choice does he have?
"I'm tired of playing a king's pawn," he said regretfully.
Marco sent a message to his driver to get the car ready. There's someone he has to meet. Then he added: 'I hope you didn't forget that goddamn cake.'
They should be at Cafe Tendre before 1:30 PM.
His mother was right. Being a Tarragona wasn't worth it. It's for that reason his father left the family.
As an illegitimate son, he strived to gain his rightful place in the family. But as he matured, it became apparent that he could never please the matriarch and the rest of the family. He would always be an outsider.