Standing with equal height to the door was the stunning muscular figure of a man, whose silver dyed strands parted at the side, brushing the frames of the transparent glasses rested on the bridge of his nose.
Dressed in a black turtleneck and a plain pair of dark pants, an opposite contrast of his pale white skin.
With his being towering every height in the room, he trailed after the old man with a supportive hand on the elder's back as he accompanied further from the door.
"Now remember what we agreed on, Mr Nate..." Came his calm voice, resonating from the depths of his chest in a commanding yet soothing tone.
The old man continued for a reasonable distance into the receptionist room before turning to the man. He popped out the candy on the stick, "I know, I know..." He let out a cranked sigh. "I won't argue with my wife any more."
The man smile.
Turning away as he waved his wrinkled hand, the old man added, "But you better tell Petra what you told me! If not, that woman will be the death of me before my weak liver."
A light charming laughter escaped the man's lips. "But of course, Mr Nate. Just make sure you survive until your next booked session."
The elderly chuckled with a smile, returning his treat between his lips as he paced carefully towards the door with the help of his staff.
Walking pass Karen to make his slow way out the door, the gentleman still standing by the open door finally shifted his gaze to lock with hers.
Karen stilled.
His deep ocean orbs locked on hers with his lips pressed in a thin line and his expression neutral.
His lids slowly squinted to the slow raise of his cheeks as his lips curled up slightly. "Good morning. You must be the one who applied online last week. Karen Benjamin, right?"
Still stunned by the visual charm of the man's mesmerizing details, Karen remained silent for a moment more before blinking repeatedly as her lips gapped. "U- Uh... Yes..."
His smile widened, seeming both warm and calm. "Welcome..." He took long precise stride forward, halting at a reasonable distance from her as he stretched out a hand. "I am by name, Drogo Vetter. The head psychologist of this Mental health clinic."
"Nice to meet you."
Returning his handshake in a cautious motion, Karen's eyes couldn't help but gauge him swiftly — her eyes instantly fell on the rosary wrapped around his other wrist to hang off between his fingers.
And her gaze did not go unnoticed as the gentleman finally cleared his throat to seize back her attention as he maintained his meek expression.
"Shall we go in for your interview now?"
Karen only nodded with a weak smile as she watched him turn to back her, wasting no time to take note of the broadness of his shoulders and back.
"Ahem!"
Karen's glare darted to the sound of the old hag standing on the opposite side of the receptionist table.
Narrowing her spiteful eyes at Karen, the wrinkled lady pouted with a tut as her eyes drank in her 'inappropriate' appearance once more before throwing an eye roll.
Karen frowned, pressing her lips tightly to trap the sour words arching to spit at her.
She followed the man named Drogo, into the inner office as he stepped aside to hold the door open before closing it behind her.
"Have a seat." He offered at the chair on one side of his desk.
Without dropping his charming smile,he walked over to the opposite side to draw out his and sit.
Karen remained standing as she gazed round the mundane standard office of dull design and paint, gingerly lowering herself to sit as well.
Drogo then placed his hands interlocked on the table between them, his smile unwavering as he watched Karen engross herself with the criticizing gaze round his office.
"Is there a problem?"
Her eyes returned to him in an instant, shaking her head instinctively. "N- No..." She smiled sheepishly, "Just a bit nervous, that's all..."
"Hm. I see. It is reasonable to bear a sense of panic when you just returned to your home country to work under entirely new policies after being away for most fraction of your life."
She nodded with squinted eyes that tagged the word, 'Exactly', to his explanation.
Drogo then took in a deep breath, "Well then, would you like anything to relax? Coffee? Tea? Water?"
"I do not feel comfortable eating outside. But thank you for the offer," she gave a cunt bow.
"Very well then... Let's get down to business." He exhaled softly, "First off, I would like to apologize on behalf of my receptionist."
Karen's eyes quirked with the obvious question of how he knew what she did to be apologizing for, when he wasn't even there.
Drogo chuckled, "I know her very well. She wouldn't even wait for an explanation before attempting to kick you out with the assumption that you're here for... Might I say, provocative reasons."
Karen crooked her head as her brows only furrowed deeper. "Judging by her hostility, it is indicative of the number of admirer that must flood this office..."
A light chuckle escaped his lips with a meek smile. "I wouldn't say... Flood," his fingers slid to the back of his neck. "... But quite a number, I must say."
Office men and their promiscuity... The thoughts gnawed at the back of her mind, mentally rolling her eyes as she masked her revolting disgust with a decent smile.
"But back to the relevant matters..." He stretched to the side to pick up a perculiar folder his drawer, bringing it to the wooden surface between them.
Flipping open the folder, he started, "You graduated from Université de Brabant Wallon, Wallonia, Belgium with an honored distinction in human psychology and social behavior, correct?"
"Yes."
"You can speak three languages. Your first being french, followed by English and then Dutch."
Karen's expression remained neutral.
She felt the piercing cringe of her knowledge in different languages being narrowed to three — she actually spoke six languages — But the other three held no relevance to her recurrent assignment.
He continued, "Interesting..." His brows arched slightly. "From your resumé, it shows you have three months experience as an intern in Organisation pour le Développement Émotionnel et Social (ODES). One of the biggest nonprofit organizations for emotional intelligence and social psychology research."
The edge of her lips tugged higher to a proud smirk. "I was opportuned to work with them as a commendation award from the university."
"Impressive indeed," his eyes took a quick skim over the remaining lengthy text that choked the three paged resumé in his grasp before placing it back into the folder.
Lifting his serene ocean blue eyes to lock on her figure, Drogo interlocked his finger before him maintaining the same sane smile that seemed like a default setting on his face.
"One thing I must commend you for is you level of exposure and quality of your skills well outlined in this... Very. Wordy. Resumé..."
Karen's eyes narrowed to the switch of his tone.
"It is an undisputable fact that any organization wouldn't blink twice at such an outstanding resumé, seizing the candidate in a gaze."
Karen smile, offering him a subtle bow. "Thank you..."
What else did he expect? She maintain a humble smile. Everything related to her was an admirable example of excellence and privilege.
She slowly raised her head, thinking to herself, of course there was no need for this interview. He should have just provided her work schedule through her stated contact and save both of them the time and drain.
She was tempted to pinch the bridge of her nose.
"Never the less, I am sorry to inform you but your application as an assignment therapist to this community mental health clinic has been rejected."
Karen froze.
Did she mishear? Or was he playing a dirty prank to watch her reaction?
Karen maintained her composed demeanor with plain expression.
"Pardon?" She crooked her head, batting her lids a few times.
His smile didn't waver. "I will repeat myself, Ms. Benjamin, in simpler terms, in fact. We can not offer you the applied position despite your exceptional resumé."
Her brows knitted into a frown. "And may I ask why?"
What sort of insolent joke was this? A psychology trick to review her level of intellect for the job or what?!
"Because it is obvious you do not want this job."
Her brows quirked. "Excuse me?"
"The organization you did your internship in, ODES, is not only the biggest and most established in Belgium, but also most difficult to associate one self's with. Only 0.2% of applicants get selected, and majority are based on interior network."
Karen's composure was slowly cracking at the translation to his vindicating accusation.
"I mean no disrespect, Ms. Benjamin, but I want to bring to light that, not only did you attend one of the most prestige universities, but you graduated with an outstanding result and complied and built a remarkable resumé, one would think your first job application would be to the top ranking institutes or organizations. Yet, here you are. Not only are you far out of your familiar element in another country, but you are here... In a community mental health clinic of your home town."
He chuckled, "Now, it is obvious to say you do not want this job, but you need it for political and selfish agenda."
Yep... That was the last strand of tolerance she could endure in one sitting.
"How dare you!!" Her palm slammed on the surface, pushing herself off her seat as her eyes narrowed at his figure. "Not only do you accuse the eligibility of my skill quality, but you sit there and make outright claims on my character and personal standing just because I had a well privilege education! What sort of—"
"Do you know what body runs this clinic?"
Karen's word lumped in her throat to his sudden interruptions. "What?" She needed time to process his question.
What body runs the community clinic? Surely the government...
About parting her lips to answer, he spoke, "The community church."
Her brows furrowed. Church?!
"Of course as an indigene of this community, you should be aware of the lacking concern of the ruling government to these areas and locals as a whole. And most definitely something as trivial as a mental health clinic. Which is why..." He slowly pushed himself up from his seat, "I, alongside the church, came together to bring life to this very building you stand in as an active contribution to our undermined community."
His flawless meek smile suddenly dropped. "And you aren't the first over pampered surname privileged ignorant to come here and apply with a Harvard worth resumé, only so to add to your philanthropic image and use to sort for higher political standings to only further extort this withering community and many other!"
He drew in a light breath as his long fingers reached to push closer his glasses. "So, with respect to your application to this 'small' organization you chose to grace with your elite profile... I am afraid we can not offer you a job here. Have a good day."
He shut the folder to toss it to the side, striding briskly to the door. Swinging it open with slight force, he turned to face her as the default smile returned to his lips and his eye softened to causality of his actions.
He gestured to the door.
Flickering her eyes between the open door and the man holding it, a disbelieving chuckle erupted from her throat as she forced on a smile — her brows twitched.
Feeling her nails dig into the skin of her palm and her muscles stiffened, Karen drew in a deep breath between her clenched jaws before exhaling.
"Very well then..."
She clutched unto her pause and began striding to the door.
"Until next time, Mr. Vetter..." She halted.
Her brown irises glared from the corners of her eyes, keyed on the calm expression marred on his face.
She frowned, "If this building survives until then." Her heeled footsteps echoed with each step out of the room.