Riad Dubois: The Complete Romance Series

by Avery North

  “Only a little, he is only in hospital as a precaution.”

  “And the man?”

  "In hospital, too, and waiting to be taken in by the police."

  “We have to go to the hospital,” Joshua was pulling his shoes on hurriedly, new energy in his movements.

  Louise held up a hand, “You don’t need to. Brad will be here soon,” now she looked at me, “With your father.”

  “My father, why my father?” Now I had to sit down.

  “Your father was the one who found him, with the help of some people he knows.”

  I shook my head dumbly. My father, of course, he knew people here, he had been coming here for vacation for as long as I could remember.

  “And of course, the men at his factory helped him,” Louise was still talking.

  The factory, the little perfume factory that he never really talked about, except when he brought gifts from there to my mother and me whenever a new product was launched.

  "So," Louise continued, "Maybe some coffee and a little breakfast are in order.”

  I sat beside Joshua while we waited for the coffee, still too confused by the situation to speak.

  When Louise arrived with the coffee, my mother was walking behind her, carrying a tray of bread and fruit. She was still in her dressing gown, dark shadows under her eyes. Putting down the tray, she raised a hand, "No need to talk, chérie. We do understand, you know. Your father was determined that the man who had saved his daughter should come to no harm.” I heaved a sigh of relief.

  Brad

  I winced as the car jolted over a bump.

  “Sorry if that hurt,” Frederic Berger commented. “We’ll soon be there.”

  It still seemed unbelievable that I was safely in a car traveling back to the Riad I had left less than twenty-four hours earlier. Even more unbelievable was that I had survived that beating from Simone’s assailant and that little man in the fez and that I only had some bruises to show for it.

  “At least they’re going behind bars,” I said.

  “Yes,” Frederic nodded, “And people like my daughter will be safer in Marrakesh − as will people like you who try to protect them.”

  This was praise indeed from the Frenchman. But he had been growing in my estimation from that moment he and his men had found me lying in that foul-smelling souk. True, they wouldn’t let me help search for my attackers, but I had known that I wasn’t really in any shape to help. He seemed to have some clout in this part of the world from how quickly he got the police involved in the search for the pair and their subsequent capture.

  “At least you won’t forget your first trip to Marrakesh,” he said, a wry grin on his face.

  “I sure won’t,” I replied, thinking to myself I wasn’t likely to forget his daughter either or the special night I had promised her.

  Simone

  The sun was breaking in the sky when Papa’s car pulled up in front of the Riad. Seeing it from my balcony, I patted down my dress before I rushed for the stairs. Reaching the car as they exited, I wanted to throw myself straight into his arms, but with a gesture, my father warned me that he was still quite sore. Taking his bandaged hand gently, I walked beside him into the Riad and over to the staircase.

  I needed to talk to him, to hear him reassure me that he wasn’t too seriously injured, that he had missed me as much as I had missed him. But I had to wait until he had spoken to Joshua.

  “He’s all yours,” Joshua said when he finally left the bedroom, “none the worse for wear, a few bruises but nothing that won’t heal.” Giving me a quick pat on the shoulder, he was gone.

  Entering the room, I was conscious of my heart beating faster but relaxed when I saw the figure in the bed. He was still Brad, his tattooed arms emerging from his pajama sleeves, his blond hair tousled.

  “Simone,” he greeted me with a smile, and then I was in his arms, feeling his stubble grazing my cheek.

  “Our night out,” he muttered, “I’m so sorry I messed it up.”

  I laughed. He had been beaten and had to go to the hospital, but he was apologizing for a missed night out.

  “No, making up for it tonight,” I insisted. “You need time to recover.” Kneeling by the bed, I said, “Consider me your nurse.”

  “You care enough to do that for me?” he flashed me a roguish grin.

  But following the hospital’s instructions, the Riad had arranged for a real nurse to care for him, and I was ejected from the room. Wandering around on my own floor, I met my mother coming out of her suite, a dejected look on her face. Without warning, the tears I had been keeping in check started to fall, stinging my cheeks, and ruining my make-up.

  “Come here, Simone. Come here,” her arms were around me, her familiar perfume filling my nostrils. “You have had a difficult time.” Her hand under my elbow, she ushered me into her suite.

  My father was sitting there, surrounded by the paperwork that traveled everywhere with him. Raising his head, he smiled at me.

  “Just filling in the report that will see those thugs put behind bars. How is your young man?”

  Without waiting for me to respond, he rose and put his arms around me.

  “He will survive. He is a fine young man.” He gave me a squeeze, then held me at arm's length. "Now, when are you coming back to our suite? Spend the rest of the holiday here with us. Then you can decide what you are going to do.”

  I smiled through my tears.

  ***

  Brad had to spend two days on strict bedrest. Two days that I spent wandering about on my own, swimming lengths of the pool, having meals with Joshua and my parents, visiting Brad only when the nurse allowed me. Finally, he was discharged – well, allowed to leave his room.

  Joshua made the announcement at breakfast.

  “The nurse leaves today. Brad has been deemed fit and does not require any more medical care.”

  “Wow, that’s great news,” the gloom of the past few days lifted. Now I could be alone with him, put some of that lotion they were using on his bruises, and hold his hand.

  “When does she leave?” I asked Joshua.

  “At eleven, then my son will be all yours,” he answered with a knowing wink.

  Brad

  Finally, the nurse finished packing her bag. She had been efficient; my bruises healing quickly were proof of that. But she had also been a barrier, only letting Simone enter the room for only short periods and then insisting on staying in the room with us. But now, with my bruises mending and nurse gone I couldn’t wait for Simone to arrive.

  I heard her light tap on the door just ten minutes after the nurse had left, then her chestnut head popped around the door. Bliss! She was a breath of fresh air in her cotton kaftan, and her hair swept back from her glowing face.

  “You’ve been in the sun,” I greeted her as she rushed into the room, flinging her sandals on the floor before climbing onto the bed next to me. I could feel the heat emanating from her body as she cuddled up beside me, stroking my face and the now yellow bruises on my arms.

  “You are better?” she murmured in my ear.

  “Yes, still slightly sore, but better. Even better now, you can stay here. God, I missed being able to see you.” My hand was already on her breast, feeling its supple curve under her kaftan. Nibbling on the ribbon at the neck of the garment, I pulled it loose, watching her eyes widen as it slipped off her shoulders.

  “You getting into bed?” I lifted the covers and looked at her suggestively.

  Simone

  We slept, arms wrapped around one another, cocooned in a tangle of sheets.

  I woke first to see the sun streaming through the curtains. Checking my watch, I saw it was already late in the afternoon. Slipping quietly out of bed, I dropped a kiss on Brad’s sleeping face and, after a quick wash in his bathroom, went downstairs. He still wasn’t fully recovered, so going out for our planned meal would have to wait. But I could have it delivered to the bedroom, a full meal, with wine and candles.

&n
bsp; I was searching through the room service menu at reception when Joshua joined me.

  “You’re up at last?” he said teasingly. “You didn’t hear me check in on you an hour ago? You were both sleeping like puppies. I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

  I smiled at his joke. I found myself liking this man but was glad he hadn’t visited our room before we fell asleep. He might not have found what we were up to so cute.

  “We are going to eat in Brad’s room tonight; I’m going to order room service.”

  “Well, I am eating with your parents. I’ll see you both in the morning. I promise not to disturb you.” He tipped an imaginary hat at me.

  The meal arrived shortly before eight. By then, Brad was up and sitting on the balcony in his t-shirt and boxers. I had retrieved fresh clothes from my room, a cotton skirt and blouse, and the fancy underwear I had been saving for the occasion.

  “Thank you,” I said as the server placed our first course on the little table and busied himself, opening a bottle of wine.

  “Compliments of Monsieur Dubois," he said, pouring a glass for each of us. “Enjoy.”

  Brad took a sip of his wine, looking at me across the candle flickering on the table.

  "Music?" he asked, reaching for remote control.

  Humming along to the rhythm and blues, we started our appetizers and fed prawns to each other.

  “Will you stay tonight?” Brad asked when the last dish had been cleared away.

  I nodded. Getting to his feet with a slight wince, he pulled me to my feet and took me in his arms.

  This was the moment we had been waiting for. Standing on my tiptoes, I reached up to kiss him, moaning as I felt his tongue exploring my mouth.

  “I want you,” he whispered into my ear. “I’ve wanted you every night.”

  His hands were roving over my hips, reaching to trace the base of my spine, pulling me closer against him. I felt one of his hands moving under my blouse to caress my breasts then reaching behind to unclasp my bra. I could feel desire flooding my body, a pulse in my most secret place urgently wanting him to stroke my clit. I kissed him passionately and found myself being led to the bed while his hands tugged off my blouse and skirt.

  “I want you too, have wanted you for so long,” I moaned again as he bent down over me, running his tongue down my body, between my breasts, my navel and lower, lower until it reached my clit, his fingers already exploring my innermost place. My body arched at the pleasure his touch instigated, but I wanted more. I sat up and reached for his boxers, feeling his cock hard beneath my hand. I grasped his t-shirt and lifted it over his head, throwing it on the floor to join my clothes before running my hands over his smooth torso. His boxers soon followed.

  Our mouths locked again, his fingers stroking my clitoris as I stroked his cock, feeling it get harder as I became wetter. We were both moaning with pleasure now, our breathing heavy.

  He stood still for a moment before pushing me back onto the bed and looking deep into my eyes as he followed. His hands separated my legs, and I instinctively lifted my hips so he could plunge his cock deep into me, filling me completely. I wrapped my legs around his hips, holding him tight against me while he thrust into me, harder and harder until we both came together in a rush of ecstasy.

  Chapter 7

  Brad

  Simone stirred sometime during the night as I lay awake listening to her steady breathing, a frond of her hair across my face.

  Christ, I was falling seriously in love with this Frenchwoman − in love with her personality, her strong body, her beautiful face. This had to continue. But how? With me, in London and Simone in Paris, it sounded impossible. There had to be some way to make this work.

  She stirred again in my arms, molding her soft body even closer to mine, a hand on my chest.

  By dawn, I had it resolved. We would have to talk, preferably in the morning, while we were alone.

  She rose early. I was getting out of the shower, a towel around my waist when I heard her moving around the room, picking her clothes up off the floor.

  “Good morning, Simone, you slept well.” I bent to help her pick up a stray piece of underwear.

  "I did," she smiled. "But, your bruises, how are they?" She spun me around to check the marks.

  “Sore but getting better. Honestly, I think last night helped me forget about them.”

  Standing on tiptoe, in that way she did, she smiled and kissed my cheek.

  Walking to the coffee machine, only half dressed, she smiled over her shoulder. “Coffee?”

  “Sure,” I took the cup from her. “Simone, I’ve been thinking.”

  “So have I,” she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, cradling the coffee cup between her hands.

  “Have we been thinking about the same thing?” I asked.

  “About spending more time together? Getting to know one another better?”

  “Why not? But when we all have to go back home … what then?”

  “Then we have to find an answer,” she smiled mysteriously and reached across to tousle my damp hair, pulling the towel from my waist as she did so.

  ***

  Breakfast was almost over when we finally got downstairs. Searching along the almost empty buffet counter, I met my father.

  "Well, son, you look much better."

  “I am better. And how are you doing?” I asked, remembering he had dined with the Berger’ the previous night.

  “Great, Brad, just great. I had a lovely dinner last night and good news from the office this morning. I am due back in Morocco before the end of the year. This time Emma will be coming as well.”

  “Wow,” Emma was one of Joshua’s favorites in the office. “You’ll enjoy that.”

  I walked back to our table, or rather the Berger table. Simone had already fetched coffee for both of us.

  “I could get used to this,” I remarked as I sat beside her.

  “Yes, to all of this,” she arched an eyebrow and shot me a saucy smile.

  I spotted her parents coming and shot her a warning glance. Hell, I was sitting at their table, and it was too late to make a bolt for my own place. There was no need to worry, however.

  “Great to see you two together,” her father said as he placed his napkin over his knees.

  “And great to see everybody safe and healthy again,” his wife remarked.

  “Thanks to Mr. Berger,” I said gratefully, acknowledging the role he had played in recent events.

  “True, he was brave,” his wife added before reaching to touch my arm. “What about these tattoos? Frederic, do you make anything in the factory that could be used to remove them?”

  “Mama!” Simone said loudly, causing me to spill my coffee. “Mama, they are staying!”

  Common sense told me it would be better to leave them to finish their breakfast alone.

  Murmuring a hasty goodbye, I went to join my father.

  Simone

  I found Brad in the courtyard when breakfast was finally over. Putting my arms around his waist, I nuzzled his neck.

  “Brad, we have to get away from here, even if it’s only for a few hours. Sometimes I feel like I will scream if I don’t get some space.”

  That he could understand. “Why not go to this new city, do something fun. Could we get a taxi there?”

  Only an hour later, we were in the Ville Nouvelle, a modern city with its wide streets, fashionable shops, and coffee shops. The air was cooler here, the pace less frantic, passers-by more stylish.

  Taking his arm, I commented, “This reminds me of a French city.”

  He looked surprised. “I thought Marrakesh was all souks and pink walls, a bit of a throwback to earlier times?”

  I laughed. “No, we French left our imprint here too. You have to read your guidebook.” I gave him a playful slap on the bum and raised my face for a kiss. An arm slung across my shoulders; he guided me to a pavement cafe.

  As we sat, waiting for our coffees, he looked at me seriously, his b
lue eyes holding mine. “Can you ever see yourself leaving France, maybe trying the UK for a while?”

  “Perhaps, why not?”

  “Just wondering. By the way, have you listened to the recording I gave you?”

  I wasn’t sure where his line of questioning was leading but told him I had listened to the recording and liked it.

  Holding my hand, he asked, "Could you see yourself singing along with a group like this? It doesn't pay very well at the moment, but we are getting good reviews, and the bookings are coming in."

  “Yes, I guess so … ”

  “We may be looking for a vocalist. You can sing, you’ve shown me that. Would you be interested?”

  “Me? Singing with your group?” I looked at him in disbelief.

  “Yes, you.” He squeezed my hand. “Make a demo tape, and I will send it on to the rest of the lads.”

  I sat back, amazed. Could this be the career move I had been searching for? More importantly, could it be a way for us to keep seeing each other?

  Seeing the intensity in his eyes, I knew this was right. There would be changes, but there would be him and me, the chance of being together.

  I placed a hand over his and returned his gaze.

  “Yes, I will make the tape. But promise you will get yourself beaten up again.”

  “Promise, but not if somebody hurts you.”

  “Deal?” I raised my hand to gently touch his face.

  He murmured, “Deal. Thank you,” his eyes were gleaming as the server placed the coffees on the table in front of us.

  We could hear a band starting to play in the square nearby as we finished our coffee, both basking in the happy glow of our relationship.

  “Let’s go,” he reached out a hand to me, leading me into the midday sunshine in the direction of the music, his hand warm on my back.

  Epilogue

  Simone