Worlds Between

by Sherry D. Ficklin

  Vicky looked up from her meager meal and entertainment to find her new boss staring at her. She swallowed the bite of sandwich that had just gone dry in her mouth and dropped the rest so it was hidden behind her desk. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Ritter?” she asked, in the best professional voice she could muster with sandwich crumbs spread across her lap.

  Darien considered her for a moment. “I did say you could take the lunch hour to get something at the café?” He was sure he had made himself clear.

  Vicky raised the sandwich up to show him. “I didn’t know what to expect, so I brought something from home,” she admitted shyly.

  Darien chuckled to himself. Glancing over the meal she brought, his eyes caught on the little fruits on her desk. “What’s that?” Darien pointed at what looked like wrinkly, mini oranges.

  Vicky looked where he was pointing and set her sandwich down. “They’re clementines.” Picking up one of the citrus fruits, she split open the peel to reveal the cute, little pieces inside, and held the whole thing out for him to take.

  Darien pulled one of the slices out and slipped it into his mouth. His eyes lit up at the burst of juice that was close to an orange, yet not quite the same. “Oh wow,” he exclaimed.

  Vicky smiled at his reaction.

  Darien popped a second piece into his mouth before realizing he was eating his new assistant’s lunch. “I’m sorry.” He tried to give the unfinished clementine back to her, but she waved it away with a smile.

  “I have more, enjoy it.” Vicky felt a little more relaxed at seeing the great man that terrified her act just as human as the next guy.

  “Thank you.” Darien accepted the gift and paused for a moment. “I’m heading down to get some coffee. Would you like to join me, Miss Westernly?”

  Vicky jumped at the opportunity to learn more about the man she would be working for. She quickly packed her lunch away and stuck it in the top drawer of the desk. Pushing the laptop closed, she picked up the bag she had been charged with.

  Darien smiled to himself as he watched the protective way Vicky slipped the bag over her shoulder so she could easily carry it without losing it.

  Munching on the clementine, he led Vicky through the building, pointing out things she would need to know. Whenever someone spoke to him or waved, Darien told Vicky their name and what they did in the company. By the time they reached the fifth floor café, Vicky’s head was spinning with the sheer quantity of information he had thrown at her. The locations and their functions were easy, but the names and faces he paraded past her were just too much to handle in one go. Darien ended the tour by stepping up to the counter at the café.

  “The usual, Mr. Ritter?” asked the barista, smiling at the handsome CEO.

  “Make it two, please, Sue,” he answered the spunky girl. “This is my new personal assistant, Miss Victoria Westernly.” Darien presented Vicky for Sue to look over.

  Vicky considered the petite woman with short, orangish-brown hair. She was sure the cute girl couldn’t be more the eighteen or nineteen.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Westernly.” Sue smiled warmly at Vicky as she retrieved the things to make the coffees.

  Vicky returned the smile and the greeting.

  When finished, Sue placed the drinks in Darien’s hands. “Here you go, Mr. Ritter.”

  “Thank you very much, Sue.” Darien started to leave.

  Vicky stood there, gaping at him. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” she called to the girl behind the counter as she rushed to catch up with her new boss.

  Sipping on his drink, Darien held one of the coffees out so Vicky could take it. She looked at the cup before sipping on it gingerly to find it was delicious.

  “I own this building and everything in it, so I don’t pay for anything at the café,” Darien explained to his companion. “And since you are now my personal assistant, you don’t, either.” He hadn’t extended this privilege to the previous temps. She hadn’t even been there for a full day, and Vicky had already exceeded his expectations. “If anyone says anything to you about it, let me know. I’ll take care of it. Understand?” He gave the wide-eyed woman walking next to him a pointed look.

  “Yes, Mr. Ritter.” It was the only response she could give the powerful man, and the only one he would have accepted.

  “So what do I have scheduled for the day?” Darien asked, wanting to see how well his new assistant had done her homework.

  Vicky proceeded to rattle off the list of meetings that filled the rest of the afternoon without having to pull out the planner. He smiled into his coffee. This woman looked to be exactly what he needed to take Marianna’s place. And to think, this was the first time she’d ever worked as a PA.

  Darien left Vicky at her desk and went back into his office to finish preparing for his meetings.

  Kicking off her heels, Vicky flopped down on the worn couch just inside her small apartment. Glad that her day had finally ended, all she wanted to do was go to bed, but she had to find food first. If tomorrow were going to be as hellish as today was, she would need all the strength she could get.

  Vicky pulled the messenger bag off and dropped it to the floor next to the couch. She had been reluctant to take the important man’s life home, but Darien had insisted she keep it with her at all times. Turning her mind back over the hectic day, she levered herself from the cushions to scrounge in her kitchen for something edible.

  She couldn’t believe how insane Darien’s life was. Vicky had followed him through eight meetings, across every floor of the building without hitting the elevators, and scribbled enough notes to fill ten pages of her notebook. She needed to get one of those pocket recorders so she could keep up with the man who spoke lighting fast as he walked just a hair quicker than she could move. If she weren’t careful, he would get away, leaving her running to follow.

  Vicky was sure Darien never noticed her plight as she struggled to keep up with the pace he set. Maybe he took a sadistic pleasure in seeing how far he could push his new little shadow before she complained about his breakneck speed? Now she understood what her contact at the temp agency had meant when they said her new boss was a difficult man to please. It would’ve been nice to have a little more warning about whom she was going to be interviewing with.

  Setting her jaw in determination, Vicky dumped a brick of ramen noodles in a pot and added the water and spices. She wasn’t going to complain about the job and be let go on the first day, as she needed this job if she was going to stay in Brenton. Vicky was currently down to her last few dollars, and if she didn’t make this work out, she was going to have to go back to selling plasma to make up the rent on her tiny apartment.

  Pulling the pin from her hair, Vicky headed into the bedroom to change out of her suit while her food cooked. She stripped from her work clothing in favor of some sweatpants and a T-shirt and was just heading back to the kitchen when she heard a strange noise. Looking around for the source of the eerie music, she realized that the phone Darien had given her was ringing. She caught it up and snapped it open.

  “Hello?”

  “I was starting to worry that you wouldn’t answer.” Darien’s pleased voice rolled out of the phone.

  “Sorry, the ring tone surprised me.” Vicky said the first thing that came to her mind, smacking her head at how dumb she sounded when Darien snickered on the other end of the line.

  “Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor. Such a lovely piece,” he mused for a moment before turning to the reason he called. “Sorry to disturb you so soon after getting home, Miss Westernly, but I need something.” Darien’s voice took on a more serious tone.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Ritter?” Vicky went back to the kitchen and clicked off the gas under her dinner. It looked as if she was going to have to go back out.

  “I need something from the bag. Can you please bring it to Fourth and Vine Street?”

  That was just a couple of blocks down from where Vicky lived. “Let me change, a
nd I’ll be on my way.” She started to head to the bedroom to put her work clothing back on, but Darien’s words stopped her.

  “I don’t care what you’re wearing; I need it now.”

  She grabbed some socks and changed her course for the door. “Yes, Mr. Ritter. I’m on my way.”

  Hanging up the phone, Vicky pulled her running shoes on over the socks and grabbed the messenger bag from the floor. Snagging a bandana for her hair, she hit the door at a run. The sadistic man had to be testing her, and she would be damned if she gave him a reason to fire her tonight.

  ***

  Darien checked his watch as he waited for his new personal assistant to arrive. It had been about five minutes since she said she was on her way and hung up without waiting for a reply. He knew she lived close from her employment file and figured it would take her about thirty minutes to walk the distance. Leaning against the wall, he disappeared into the shadows of the night to wait. Darien liked watching how people, so accustomed to the light, handled darkness and the things it hid.

  While studying a scantily clad woman trying to convince a very drunk man that she was worth the fifty bucks it would take to pick her up, Darien’s attention was grabbed when something familiar shot past. Turning his eyes towards the streak, he found his assistant had arrived almost twenty minutes before he had expected her to.

  Huffing, Vicky leaned against the lamppost on the corner where he had sent her and grasped at the stitch that had formed in her side from the run. She rubbed at it before standing up and looking around to find her new boss.

  Darien clung to the shadows, studying her. He noted that Vicky’s hair hung free about halfway down her back, held in place by a purple bandana that clashed with her neon green T-shirt and blue sweatpants. While looking around for the man who had called her out, she walked back and forth, stretching the lactic acid from her legs.

  Darien watched for another minute until the hooker, having lost her mark, turned towards the young woman to see if she was horning in on her corner. When Vicky raised her hands to fend off the woman and stepped backwards, he emerged from the darkness, straight into the retreating woman’s path so that she bumped into him. “Is there a problem, Miss Westernly?”

  Vicky whirled around to see the man she was looking for and let out a sigh of relief. “Just a misunderstanding, Mr. Ritter.” She stepped out of her boss’s personal space.

  Darien looked up to see the light in the hooker’s eyes. She knew a man of money when she saw one, and she was going to do her best to make sure that this handsome guy took her home, not the scrawny thing in front of him.

  “Hey, baby.” She sashayed up to Darien. “I can show you a much better time than she can.”

  He looked down at the woman with curious eyes. “Can you now?” Darien asked in a sophisticated tone.

  The woman smiled at him and stepped closer to play with his tie. Vicky moved back from the pair. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but she suddenly felt the need to run.

  “Of course I can,” the working girl answered, before looking up at the burning, green eyes of her potential mark. Her hands froze on his tie as Darien released just a hint of power. The intense pressure staggered the offending woman back, and he smiled at her.

  “I really don’t think you can.” Darien turned away and swallowed back the little bit of power that had been released, so he wouldn’t frighten his new employee.

  Vicky just stared at him, wide-eyed. She didn’t know what she had just witnessed, but she was not going to ask and risk her meal ticket. “I b-b—” Vicky swallowed hard, trying to stop the stutter that had slipped into her voice, “—brought the bag for you, Mr. Ritter.”

  Darien sighed. He hadn’t meant to scare his new assistant with his little demonstration. He was almost positive she wouldn’t be showing up for work tomorrow. “Thank you,” he sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now, short of erasing her memories, but he liked the girl and fiddling with people’s minds had always given him problems. Everyone he had ever tried that trick on seemed a little flighty after he was done, if they remembered anything at all.

  Vicky pulled the bag from where it hung on her hip and raised it, so Darien could get into it. He pulled out an electronic key fob before dropping the flap back into place. Vicky stared at the box in his hand in surprise. She had emptied out the satchel earlier and was sure it hadn’t been in there.

  Darien turned and started down the street. Vicky just stood there, trying to work out how she had missed that when she had done her exploration.

  Darien paused in his retreat and turned back to the frozen woman. “Are you coming, Miss Westernly?”

  Her feet moved automatically to join him. Vicky muttered an apology for her delay, and the pair walked slowly down the street.

  The hooker stared after the girl with pity and crossed herself. She didn’t know what the tall man was, but he terrified her. The look he had given her spoke of death and destruction, and she actually feared for the safety of the young woman walking away with him.

  ***

  Vicky walked next to her employer as they headed in the opposite direction of her home. She glanced back over her shoulder, wondering if Darien needed her to stay or if she was free to go back to her apartment now. Her stomach chose that moment to remind her she hadn’t eaten since the half-finished sandwich at noon.

  Darien smiled at the sound and turned his attention to his young companion. “Have you had dinner yet?” he asked softly.

  Vicky looked up at his profile before returning her attention to the darkened street in front of her. “Not yet,” she admitted. “I was in the process of making something when you called.”

  “I’m sorry I pulled you away,” Darien replied. “Will it be okay?” He was genuinely concerned for the girl. The lunch she had at work seemed rather pathetic. He imagined she was hungry.

  “It’ll be fine.” She waved his worry away. “It’s only ramen.”

  Darien cocked an eyebrow at her. He had run her hard today, and she was only having ramen noodles for dinner? This would not do at all. He stopped next to a black sports car and opened the passenger door with the fob from Vicky’s bag.

  She looked questionably at the expensive, little two-seater and then at her boss, trying to decide if she really wanted to be trapped in a small space with the powerful man. Seeing no way to refuse without losing her job, she climbed into the passenger seat.

  Darien laughed silently as he walked around to the other side of the car and got in. He liked that she was wary of him. It meant she knew danger when she saw it, and that was always a good instinct to have.

  Pulling the Aston Martin DB9 into light traffic, Darien took off faster than he really should have. Vicky gripped the handle of the door as he slipped the car into spaces almost too small for it to go. She had never been in anything this powerful… or expensive.

  She assumed he was giving her a ride home, but they zipped past her building without even slowing down. Staring out the window, Vicky tried to make sense of what was happening. “Where are we going?” she finally asked.

  “To get something to eat,” Darien answered as he pulled up to a red light.

  Vicky gave him a confused look. “I’ve got dinner waiting at home,” she informed him again, in case he hadn’t heard the first time.

  “I know, but your noodles will probably be very soggy by the time you get back,” he explained. “Consider this an apology for getting you out so late and ruining your meal.”

  Vicky thought about refusing the offer, but the man was right. By the time she got back, the noodles would be mushy and unpleasant. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Ritter,” she thanked him.

  An odd grin curled the edges of Darien’s mouth. It had been some time since anyone had sincerely told him he was kind.

  ***

  Pulling the sports car up to the curb, Darien shut it off.

  Vicky looked out the window at the darkened building next to her. This was the rich e
nd of town, and she knew of no place around here that would allow her inside dressed as she was. Darien opened the door, and she stared out at him. He cocked his head in question, and she stepped out, clutching the bag to her.

  Shutting the car door behind her, he led the way across the street into a low-lit doorway. Following her boss, Vicky’s steps faltered before hitting the mat in front of the restaurant that was clearly an upper-class establishment.

  Darien paused as he noticed her hesitation. “Is there something wrong?” He looked back to the door he was holding open for the reluctant woman. “Do you not like Japanese?”

  Vicky shook her head, trying to hide behind the messenger bag. “That’s not it, Mr. Ritter,” she explained. “I’m not dressed for someplace like this.” Vicky felt her boss’s eyes travel over her as if he were seeing her for the first time.

  “You’re right.”

  She sighed in relief as Darien conceded her point and released the door. Now, she just had to convince him to get her a quick hamburger and let her go home. Before she knew what happened, Darien had his hand on her shoulder and was propelling her into the shop next to the restaurant. He spoke in quick Japanese to the shopkeeper. Vicky didn’t even have a chance to voice her protest before she was relieved of her bag and pushed into the waiting hands of a small woman.

  Twenty minutes later, Vicky was let out of the building in the most beautiful kimono she had ever seen. Her outfit was completed with Zori sandals over Tabi socks, a small bag that matched the obi, and a dark, wooden comb placed smartly in her hair. Her T-shirt, shoes, and pants had been stuck in a wooden box and given to the shop owner with instructions that Vicky didn’t dream of understanding.

  “That’s better,” Darien said as he looked over the outfit his assistant was decked out in. The silk of the kimono started a soft, silvery blue around the collar and shifted in intensity as it fell away from Vicky’s shoulders, so the ends of the sleeves and hem were the blue of a clear sky. There were curvy branches of golds and grays hand painted on the sleeves and down the length of the garment. The kimono was held in place by a peach-colored, textured-silk obi with some kind of large, reddish flowers on a light brown branch and a cord the same color as the deepest blue of the kimono. Vicky felt odd, swaddled in such unusual clothing, but Darien nodded his approval and tucked her hand into his arm as he led her back to the door of the Japanese restaurant.