Riad Dubois: The Complete Romance Series

by Avery North

  Meeting Louise at the foot of the ornate staircase, Helen noticed that she too had dressed for dinner in that expensive gypsy way of hers. Good, she thought to herself as she tucked her arm into Louise’s, she couldn’t bear it if Louise had lost touch with her artistic self.

  “Well, this is certainly luxurious,” Helen commented as they took their places at the table.

  “And wait until you try the food,” Louise answered, beckoning over a server. “Gilbert will be with us shortly. He is meeting some business associates. Let’s have some wine while we wait.”

  “Business associates?” Helen asked. “That should be interesting.”

  Business was her thing; she should be able to hold her own in this conversation.

  The waiter was pouring their wine when Gilbert arrived with the two young men Louise had seen in the lobby. They had changed, their crisp business suits replaced with more relaxed shirts, trousers, and leather jackets.

  Introductions complete, Gilbert turned to Helen. “Are you enjoying Morocco, Helen?”

  “Well, yes. It is not quite as I had expected.”

  “And what had you expected?” the young man who had been introduced as Aryn turned his dark eyes towards her, running them appreciatively over her appearance.

  “I’m not really sure,” Helen answered, blushing under his gaze. “Perhaps slightly less luxurious.”

  She took a sip of her wine, hoping to hide the color in her cheeks as she raised the glass.

  “Gilbert mentioned that you work in business?” Aryn asked.

  “I work in finance," she answered, taking another sip of her wine before returning the glass to the table.

  “Superb! We will have to talk further,” Aryn swept his eyes over her again. Raising his wine glass to her, he added, "I would love to learn more about finance in your country. Aziz will be more than interested also. He is our accountant.”

  He indicated his companion, another dark-skinned Moroccan without the gold jewelry Aryn was displaying proudly, apart from a simple wedding band.

  “Yes, that would be interesting,” Aziz answered.

  “Of course, but perhaps not tonight.” Louise was surprised to hear her friend turning down an opportunity to discuss business.

  “Of course, not tonight,” Aryn agreed. “We have all had a long day. From Casablanca to here is a long trip. But tomorrow, perhaps?"

  Helen regarded him for a moment, taking in the gold jewelry, the expensive jacket, and the heady smell of his aftershave. Those dark eyes were flickering over her face again, and down to her décolletage.

  “Yes, tomorrow,” she answered, determining to keep her composure and control the color in her cheeks.

  From her seat beside Gilbert, Louise watched the exchange. Had Helen met her match? Perhaps so had Aryn?

  “And you Louise? Do you work in Finance too?” Aryn turned his dark eyes on her next.

  “Nothing as exciting as that. I’m a writer,” she laughed.

  The tagine had arrived when Aryn suggested a plan for the evening. “We should go clubbing. There is a new place open in the Ville Nouvelle, you know, the new city,” he explained to Helen.

  Aziz shook his head, “Count me out, I have work to do before our meeting in the morning. But you go and have fun.”

  Louise was wondering how Helen and herself should deal with this. She had seen a wrinkle of distaste on her friend’s face. There was to be no escape, however. Gilbert agreed with Aryn that a night of entertainment was a good idea, especially as the following day, they would be busy with meetings.

  Their meal finished, the four of them pushed through the Riad doors into the balmy Moroccan night.

  Chapter 2

  Aryn insisted on driving. With the soft top down, music wafting from the speakers the car purred along the rough surface of the road, Aryn skillfully avoiding potholes.

  Sitting beside Louise on the leather rear seats, Helen whispered angrily, “What are we doing? I could see you didn’t really want to come. Yet when Gilbert agreed, you didn’t object?”

  “No,” Louise was taken aback. “I didn’t because it wasn’t really an issue. Let’s just go for a while, Helen. Then we can get a taxi in an hour or two.”

  Slightly mollified, Helen nodded.

  “We can leave whenever you want. OK?” Louise admitted to herself that going along with this idea might not have been the best plan while her friend was here.

  Parked outside the club, Aryn turned to Gilbert and remarked with a grin, "Aziz does not know what he is missing. That man is allowing his marriage to stop him from having some fun. Ladies, I hope you are not going to fall into that trap! Let’s go have some fun!”

  Jumping out of the car, he opened the rear door for Louise and Helen. A leather wallet in his hand, he shepherded them into the club, his hand resting casually on Helen’s shoulder.

  “Now, this is what I call a good club.” Aryn looked approvingly at the lights, the couples gyrating to the music, the servers moving from table to table.

  “We need a table and champagne, yes champagne,” his imperious wave caught a server’s attention.

  “Tell me about yourselves, ladies.” He tipped his glass towards Helen, indicating she was the one he really wanted to find out more about.

  Sitting stiffly beside Louise, her back straight, Helen looked at him for a moment without answering. She had already noticed him undressing her with his eyes; he had walked uncomfortably close to her entering the club, his hand brushing against her hips. He was arrogant in every way. But this could be her moment to curb his arrogance.

  In answer to her silence, he worded his question more carefully, this time with a charming smile. “So, you work in finance, Helen?" he whistled softly. "I am impressed, really impressed."

  “Thank you,” Helen said sweetly, “but it’s no big deal.”

  “No, I think that is a very difficult industry to work in. You must be incredibly clever and determined.”

  Louise, her head on Gilbert’s shoulder, listened as Aryn worked his charm, getting Helen to discuss the topic closest to her heart. Stocks, shares, and bonds rolled over her head as Gilbert joined in the conversation.

  A change in the tempo from the dance floor brought the conversation to an abrupt end as Aryn rose to his feet.

  “Helen, please dance with me,” there was an exciting urgency in his voice as he reached for her hand.

  Louise watched them draw closer together as the music became slower. Could this really be the Helen who had arrived in Morocco earlier today, convinced that Louise should return to Wales?

  "Another romance made in Morocco?" Gilbert whispered, nibbling at her ear lobe.

  “Perhaps, perhaps not.” Louise nestled into his arms and met his lips with hers.

  On the dance floor, Helen was trying to focus. She hadn't intended to dance with him, merely to entangle him in intelligent conversation before pointedly rejecting the advances that she knew were coming. But feeling the arms firmly holding her, feeling his chin brushing off her forehead, sensing the bulge in his trousers as he pulled her closer, her resolve began to slip dangerously away. It had to be the champagne … but Helen had to be brutally honest with herself. She had only taken a sip of champagne, not enough to make her feel like this.

  When his hands skimmed her hips, the electricity coursing through her body answered her. Damn, she couldn’t be falling for him, surely!

  Sensing her reaction, Aryn raised her chin and forced her to look at him. She looked into dark eyes that smoldered with passion.

  “You are enjoying this, Helen?” he asked.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Good,” he folded his arms around her again. “Let’s dance some more.”

  Electricity coursed through her body again, adding to her confusion. She knew he must be able to sense her reaction. Probably the same reaction he got from every woman he danced with. She had to break the spell he was weaving on her, but how? Reminding herself that she w
as Helen and not just another woman in thrall to him, she danced free from his arms, swinging her hips to the quickening tempo of the music, her clothes outlining the curves of her body.

  "But Helen?" He could see she was playing cat and mouse with him.

  “Yes?”

  “You were enjoying what we were doing.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Yes, you were. You cannot hide your feelings from me,” he took her hands, interrupting the rhythm of her dance and swinging her around to face him. “Don’t worry, Helen. I am not going to hurt you. That is not my style.”

  Scooping her back into his arms, he bent low, his mouth probing hers, a firm hand on her lower back. Taken by surprise, she responded even though her mind screamed at her, this was a mistake, a serious mistake. She had to stop this! When she slapped his face, it stung her hand. Standing back, painfully aware of the other dancers watching the scene, he muttered in a voice thick with anger, "You will regret that."

  Walking back to their table, Helen had a slight moment of regret; maybe she shouldn't have done that. But then she remembered how obnoxious he had been, utterly obnoxious, thinking she would consent to being groped like that on the dancefloor. And yet, a part of her had enjoyed it …

  “Louise, time to get that taxi you mentioned,” she interrupted the conversation Louise and Gilbert were engrossed in.

  As they left, Aryn was already casting his eyes over the dancefloor.

  ***

  Back in the hotel lobby, Louise looked at Helen with concern.

  “What happened, Helen? What was that about?”

  The taxi journey had passed in silence, Helen seething on her side. “What happened? He tried to kiss and grope me on the dancefloor. He assumed I was there for the taking, just because he is rich and successful.”

  She took another sip of the drink the server had brought her.

  “But Helen, you gave the impression you liked him! You do like him, don’t you?” Louise watched as the color rose in her friend’s face. “Admit it, Helen, he is very attractive, and you did enjoy the conversation with him.”

  “Louise, you are far too innocent to be left out on your own! His conversation was engineered to draw me into his net,” Helen ran a red-painted nail along the leather armrest.

  “Maybe. But because he liked you. Remember, you do have shared interests. And you are on holiday. Time maybe to have a bit of fun?”

  “Fun? Yes, if your idea of fun is meeting a man who thinks every woman wants him.” Helen was not going to relent.

  “Perhaps, he deserved the slap.. .” Louise took a sip of her own drink.

  “Were you actually afraid you were falling for him?” Louise looked at her quizzically. “You were dancing quite close to him. Closer than I have seen you dance to someone in … well, since then.”

  Helen knew her friend was thinking about the relationship with Mark; she had ended to pursue her career in London.

  “Well?” Louise was waiting. Helen could sometimes be so damn stubborn − beautiful, intelligent, successful, and stubborn.

  “Life here is a little bit different, Helen. More fun, more relaxed, not always so politically correct.”

  Helen looked at her from beneath her perfectly groomed eyebrows. She was taking in what her friend had to say and already beginning to see that Louise might have a point. Marrakesh was very different from London. She could never see herself living there, but the difference was captivating. Maybe she should have confronted Aryn before going straight for a slap.

  Leaning back against the sofa, she looked at Louise, "OK, I will apologize. You are right; I shouldn’t have done that. That does not mean I am going to stop asking you to return to the UK.”

  “Let’s deal with that another time,” Louise said, relieved.

  Chapter 3

  Helen woke with a start. She had been dreaming she was at home, sifting through a pile of work she had to attend to. Seeing the bright sunlight streaming into the room, she realized she was on vacation in Morocco. Remembering the previous night at the club and her talk with Louise, her heart plummeted.

  She had promised to apologize. Knowing how seriously Louise took a promise, she knew she would have to apologize sooner rather than later.

  “Shit,” she unfurled herself from the bed. Better to rise and face the music.

  Louise was already working at a table in the lobby when she got downstairs.

  "I do work here, you know," was her answer to Helen's greeting.

  “Still in contact with the London office? Don’t tell me you are missing Joshua?” Helen had never understood how Louise had managed to work with that misogynist.

  “Yes, I report in once a week. They may be coming back here in the autumn. Want some breakfast?”

  In answer to Helen’s nod, Louise closed her laptop. “Let’s get a tray and take it through to the courtyard. You should enjoy the sunshine while you can.”

  Helen’s eyes widened when she saw the courtyard with its banks of flowers and tables and chairs arranged around the pool.

  “This is lovely,” she exclaimed, “heavens, there’s even a cat!”

  “Yes, she’s Gilbert’s. Apparently, she was a stray who wandered in here one day. Ah, here comes the food.”

  “Speaking of Gilbert, did you see him again last night?”

  “Yes, of course. And no, he didn’t say anything about your incident with Aryn.”

  “I will apologize, don’t worry.” Helen reached for the coffee pot.

  “They will probably be here for breakfast shortly. You won’t have to wait too long.”

  Louise was right. A server arrived to set a poolside table for breakfast. Helen watched as everything was laid out with meticulous attention to detail.

  “Are these important people?” she whispered to Louise.

  Louise nodded as Aryn and Aziz entered the courtyard, followed by Gilbert. Gilbert kissed Louise’s cheek as he passed. Aziz greeted then with a cheery “Good morning,” while Aryn pointedly made a beeline for a glass of juice without looking at them.

  “Ouch,” Helen winced at Louise. She had messed up badly, but for him to freeze her out like this and include Louise in his general frostiness was too much. Biting her lip, she concentrated on extracting the stones from her peach. Louise watching her sliding the knife under the stone, warned, "Careful, you are going to …”

  It was too late, the knife slipped and sliced into Helen’s finger. The clatter of the falling dish and Helen’s yelp of pain alerted the men at the other table to the catastrophe. Gilbert was at their side immediately, followed by Aryn rushing to Helen’s side to take the injured finger in his hands.

  “Helen, hang on, let me help,” he wrapped a napkin around the finger, stemming the flow of blood.

  Helen mumbled her thanks, attempting to hide her embarrassment, insisting she was OK. As Gilbert ushered herself and Louise to his table, she again remembered the apology that she had promised to give and determined that she would do it after breakfast.

  “Does it hurt Helen?” Aryn asked as he poured her coffee.

  “Not really,” Helen answered, her composure regained. She tried to laugh the incident off, “I think my pride is more injured than my hand.”

  “Well, that happens to all of us,” he replied with a soft smile.

  Helen blushed, “Yes, especially when some people are being stubborn.” She brushed her hand along his to indicate that she was referring to herself.

  An answering squeeze on her hand told her the message had been received.

  Louise raised her head from where she sat across the table. The brief moment between Helen and Aryn hadn’t gone unnoticed. Hopefully, it would be plain sailing for the remainder of Helen’s visit. Crossing her fingers under the table, she turned to Aziz.

  “Did you have a nice quiet evening?” she asked.

  Aziz looked up from the documents he had brought to breakfast. He was certainly the quieter of the two Louise reflected, intent on his work and anxious
to hurry home to his new wife as soon as possible.

  “Yes, of course. I had my work to prepare. I have noticed some discrepancies here, Mr. Gilbert. Perhaps we should discuss them?”

  “And that’s that conversation over,” Louise thought rising from the table.

  She felt very uninvolved at times. Sometimes she felt as she had done in the past, moving from new bride to settled, perhaps boring wife. But Gilbert was different – he was kind, loving, gorgeous. She bent to kiss him in passing by way of silent apology, but for what she didn’t quite know.

  Meeting Ahmed in the lobby, she stopped to talk for a moment. Ahmed always made her feel better.

  “Ms. Louise, would you like to join me for morning coffee? I think you need one.”

  “Is it so obvious?” Louise took the coffee gratefully. “And Ahmed, it’s Louise, not Ms. Louise.”

  “OK, Louise,” he joined her on the couch, “are you missing home?”

  Louise thought for a moment. “No, there isn’t anything to miss.”

  She instinctively twisted the serpent ring on her finger. Gilbert had told him about that ring, her good luck talisman, that never left her finger.

  “All is good here, then?”

  “Yes, it is. Except … ” what was it about Ahmed’s eyes that made her feel she could talk to him about anything?

  “Except?”

  "Would it be terrible if I decided to move out, get my own place?" she placed a restraining hand on Ahmed's arm. "Here is fabulous, beautiful, really. But I like having my own place, my own office, my own bedroom.”

  Ahmed rubbed his chin thoughtfully. This was difficult. He was honestly surprised this question hadn't been raised before; in fact, he was surprised she had stayed in Gilbert’s apartment for the best part of three months. And Gilbert obviously hadn’t brought up his idea that she should live permanently at the Riad.

  Typical Gilbert. When would he realize that modern women did not need protection or a man’s support? And why should Ahmed, sixty years old to Gilbert’s thirty-five, be the one to tell him?