Raul D'Ambrosio. He was tapping on the clipboard with his pen, growing impatient by the minute. The candidates he had shortlisted for the interview were scheduled to meet him half an hour ago and one of them was still missing. "I wasn't having high hopes anyway...", he mutters under his breath and goes to press the intercom when it blares loudly, freezing him for a moment.
"Tasha?"
"The other candidate is here, Sir."
"Let him in." With a slightly irritated undertone he muttered and leaned back with his fingers tapping against each other, deep in thought. 'The candidate mustn't be very eager or too arrogant,' he judged the candidate already annoyed by his careless behavior.
But as a twist of fate, just like the previous night, his bias came back to slap him when a frail man, with greasy, wavy, not to mention shoulder-length hair, stepped in. Raul sat up straight in shock at the rugged smile on the man's face. His guilt deepened when he took note of the neck band.
Now Raul was kicking himself on the inside for jumping to conclusions. He suddenly felt like a cold-hearted, narcissistic, inconsiderate and sorry excuse for a human being. He wondered when he became so ruthless as to have no empathy. But he came to his senses when he heard the man's voice, or rather a hoarse croak.
Horrified and ashamed, he cleared his throat. "Please, Mr. Oberti, don't exert yourself. No need for pleasantries. Take a seat, we shall go over the process."
The man gave a gratified sigh as he carefully took a seat to not snap his head. Observing closely, Raul could see that the man was lean, too lean to be a man. But he decided not to embarrass himself as he had been since the previous night. The thought of the previous night only brought back memories of a certain woman he was still beating himself up over. He took a deep breath and turned to the man.
"You could have mailed my assistant that you're not in good health to attend the interview." He drummed his fingers against each other, thinking. "We could have rescheduled?"
The man tries to speak again and impulsively shakes his head but winces. Raul pushes an iPad to him as he walks towards the couch. "Please, Mr. Oberti, we can continue over here and you can write your answer on the iPad."
Once they both comfortably settled down and began their discussions, Eleonora dressed up as Mr. Oberti could not help but admire his passion for renovation. Although she loathed his gullibility, she also felt guilty for deceiving such a compassionate man. 'D'Ambrosio, forgive me,' she chants in her heart as she gives him a rough sketch and estimate for his question.
Looking at him, concentrating on her answer, she knew he wasn't going to throw her out without a second glance. In fact, with each question she knew she was on the way to getting the job.
"Not bad, Mr. Oberti. I had my doubts but you know your stuff." Raul's fingers started their dance against each other, a habit when he was deeply contemplating. "Why work in landscape architecture, though?"
She directed a mysterious smile his way and he, for a moment, thought it was a little mischievous. One look at the iPad and he chuckles, lightly shaking his head. She wrote, ' The past was full of me, landscape architects.'
Raul could feel himself being convinced by the shabby man. He looked professional but shabby. Raul couldn't shake off the feeling that the man beside him had intentionally come in half shabby but one look at his neck was all it took for Raul to shut his paranoid mind out. Guilt certainly was bad for a business.
"What do you intend to bring to the table? Or to the site?" The man raised an eyebrow. "If I offered you this project, I mean," Raul explained.
Eleonora smiled to herself as she scribbled on the screen. A satisfied smile across his face, Raul raised his feet and offered his arm. Her face did not express much as she gripped his hand firmly. Raul was taken aback for a moment. He had been thinking the man's hand looked too feminine as he drew, but the soft palms could never be a man's. But, could it? His stomach stirs uncomfortably. He wondered why this man seemed like an enigma.
Intending to run a background check on him, he replies with a placid face. "We'll be leaving for the site in two days, Mr. Oberti. Rest well. You'll get your job details in the email."
"Very well," Eleonora alias Mr. Oberti's mouthed earned a smirk from Raul.
"Get your voice back, you'll need it. Until then." With that curt response from her new boss, Eleonora leaves with a triumphant smile. She had successfully completed the first part of her plan. Now, for the most exciting part, she had to trap him in some form of competition with her. And then she had to make him lose.
As she waved a taxi and got in, she reflected on that small mistake she made and cursed herself for not being cautious. 'That handshake...' she mumbled with a sigh. Then a comical scene entered her mind. What if she told him...? She immediately shook her head, not wanting to put another dimension to her alibi. But it was indeed a good plan, a dangerously good plan. 'With a dangerous man,' her mind chanted.
Staring aimlessly, her answer to his last question floated back to her mind. That was the only answer she was sure of, in fact, the only question she was sure of. Even before the interview. But after listening to his passion for the history of architecture, she just knew.
At the same moment, Raul was tapping his fingertips against each other, replaying the shabby man's answer to his last question. The question his first candidate had raved about for a quarter hour, sucking his energy with his exhilaration. To say he was impressed was an understatement. The second one, the frail one, wrote two words. Two words that made Raul hire him. Two words they did not foresee the power of. Two words that would shake their world.
'The past.'