Chapter 25
S eldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken. - Jane Austen , Emma
Emma
This all seemed like a dream.
This morning I had awakened to the dreary grey skies of Chicago, and now I was stepping into the warmth and sunshine of Morocco. This was insane! This kind of thing didn’t happen to normal people, or at the very least they didn’t happen to me.
I was grateful for the secure feel of Dimitri’s hand on my lower back as he led me into the hotel. I couldn’t suppress a gasp as we crossed the threshold.
I was inside the pages of the Arabian Nights!
The lobby was flooded with sunlight and bright bold colors.
Highly polished mosaic tiles in complicated geometric patterns covered the floor and countless columns.
Massive glass vases filled with gorgeous flowers gave the air a fresh floral scent.
As he led me toward the reception desk, we stepped past a center fountain surrounded by a shallow rectangular pool of cool water.
The hotel staff greeted us warmly. Apparently Dimitri was a frequent guest. Instead of showing us to our room, they mentioned a word I wasn’t familiar with.
Grasping his elbow, I leaned up on my toes and whispered in his ear, “What is a ri-yad?”
He leaned down and whispered back, “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t want them to think I’m uncultured.”
He pulled on one of my curls. “You’re adorable. The Royal Mansour doesn’t have typical hotel rooms or suites; they have riads, which are a traditional Moroccan house that surrounds a private courtyard. They cater to a clientele who prefer their… privacy.”
Despite the warmth of my surroundings, I shivered.
It was a subtle reminder we were not here on some spur-of-the-moment romantic getaway.
Dimitri was here on business. Shady, criminal business I wasn’t supposed to know anything about.
Dangerous business I preferred not to think about.
It was easier to be with him and reconcile my love for him if I stayed inside my ignorant bubble.
The only problem was… bubbles were fragile things. They usually burst.
As they showed us into our personal riad, I walked past the living room, which was dimly lit by several hanging iron and stained glass lamps, through the open door to the courtyard.
It was stunning. Breezy palm trees shaded the many jewel-toned ottomans and lounges, which surrounded a fountain depicting a large urn pouring water into a circular pool.
The cobalt tiles made the water look impossibly blue.
It was a reader’s dream.
I could easily imagine spending hours each afternoon curled up on a lounger, listening to the quiet music of the running water as I read.
Closing my eyes, I inhaled. Just like in the lobby, the air had a fresh floral scent.
It felt like the entire city was a brightly colored blossom floating on crystal blue, sun-kissed waters.
Strong arms closed around my middle.
“You must be starving. They are setting up lunch in the dining room.”
Turning, my cheek brushed the soft bristle of his goatee. “Can we eat out here?”
“Of course. I’ll go tell them.”
* * *
I was seated in an alcove in an upper corner of the courtyard, tucked between two lemon trees. It had a low table with several bejeweled cushions and was hidden from view by silk draping in vivid yellow, orange, and crimson.
A breeze rustled the branches of the lemon tree, sending a sweet citrus scent into the air.
Just then, Dimitri appeared. He had changed out of his suit into a loose-fitting white linen shirt that was partially unbuttoned exposing his colorful tattoos and heavily muscled chest, and a pair of tan linen trousers.
Fuck, he was hot as hell. Even his bare feet were sexy.
Once more I felt a cold fist twist inside my chest. I didn’t really consider myself an insecure person, but it was hard not to feel a little trepidation around someone like Dimitri.
He was older, more cultured, and probably richer than I could ever imagine.
Places like this were just a Tuesday business trip for him.
Meanwhile, I was gob-smacked at my exotic, luxurious surroundings.
He sat down on one cushion, then leaned over onto his elbow next to me. He looked like a dark sultan, the kind from the movies who seduce gullible virgins into following them deep into the desert. Looking into his silver eyes, I knew I would definitely willingly be one of those women.
We lounged in the shade while Dimitri explained the different dishes and offered me bites from his fingertips. There were spicy salads made with shredded carrots and coriander, marinated purple artichokes, poached spiny lobster with a citrus vinaigrette, and lamb with saffron and almonds.
Every mouthful was a burst of decadent flavor.
It felt like I was tasting color. I know it sounds strange, but it was as if everything had a vivid filter on it.
Cerulean blues, malachite greens, copper oranges, amethyst purples, and magenta reds, and all of it had a thin thread of metallic gold and silver that made it shimmer and dance in the golden yellow sunshine.
Dimitri reached for a sugared date off one of the tiered platters. Taking a bite of half, he held the other half up to my lips. I ate from his hand, licking the extra sugar from my lips.
He growled. “Don’t you start or I’ll forget to feed you and just take you to my bed like a savage.”
Leaning close, I licked my lips a second time, in what I hoped was a seductive manner.
Dimitri pounced.
The dominating force of his weight pushed me into the cushions. His muscled thighs captured my kicking legs between them. His already hard cock pressed against my stomach.
He leaned over me with one forearm. Stretching his arm out, he reached for an orange half from the silver platter filled with fruits and cheeses.
“Open your mouth.” His voice was low and husky with desire.
I obeyed.
He crushed the delicate fruit in his fist. Squeezed the rind till sweet juice trickled into my mouth and over my lips. His lips then followed, tasting the honeyed nectar on my tongue.
Much later, as I lay naked by his side on the cool mosaic tiles, trailing my fingers in the water and listening to his deep and even breathing, I couldn’t help thinking we were in the Garden of Eden.
Too bad I had forgotten about the evil serpent.
* * *
Dressed in a gorgeous cobalt blue silk dress with slip-on ballet flats, I took Dimitri’s hand as he led me from our exotic oasis.
“Can you at least give me a hint?”
We were on our way to Dimitri’s big surprise and I couldn’t contain my excitement.
“If you weren’t so preoccupied with tearing my clothes off, you’d probably have guessed by now,” he teased.
Taking him up on his challenge, I thought about what I knew about Morocco. It wasn’t much, and he had kept me occupied since arriving at the hotel, so the books he had given me were untouched on the table inside.
My mouth fell open. I turned to him with wide eyes. “No!”
He smiled. “Yes!”
“Really?”
He nodded.
Oh, my God!
This amazing man who had stormed into my life with the force of a hurricane, tossing all my emotions into a chaotic wind and stealing my heart, was about to make one of my biggest dreams come true.
* * *
I can’t believe I was actually here.
I took a deep breath and tried to quiet my beating heart.
It was pounding so hard I felt lightheaded.
Trying to collect myself, I looked down at the geometric tile of gold and brown under my feet.
I then focused on the pristine white arches, then the gorgeous emerald green tiled roof.
A simple fountain in the center of the courtyard was the only other decoration.
“Do you want to go inside?” asked Dimitri.
“In a minute. I just want to take it all in.”
I took another deep breath.
I was standing in the courtyard of the University of al-Qarawiyyin, the world’s oldest library .
The feeling was overwhelming. This was Mecca for any librarian. It was the top item on my bucket list. An item I never thought I’d ever get a chance to check off.
In the rooms surrounding this courtyard were over four thousand rare books and ancient Arabic manuscripts, centuries’ worth of human thought and innovation.
I laid a hand over my heart. “You remembered.”
I could only remember casually mentioning once to him I wanted to see the world’s greatest libraries… and he had remembered.
“I remember every word that has come from your lips, моя крошка.”
My eyes filled with tears. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I rested my head against his heart. “Do you have any idea what this means to me?” I asked, my words muffled against his shirt.
His hand came up to stroke my hair. “I only want to see you happy. Please, always remember that, моя крошка.”
He was a hero straight out of a romance novel. Sure, he had some dark and twisty parts to him, but really, what hero didn’t?
A man approached us from a shaded arch. For the next hour he took us on an exclusive tour of the entire complex, even reading rooms only reserved for scholars and clerics.
I marveled at the intricate wood and ironwork as the curate talked about how it was founded by a woman in the ninth century and how women were responsible for the recent renovation.
Standing in one of the library’s temperature-controlled rooms surrounded by gilt and leather-bound volumes and fragile vellum scrolls was awe-inspiring.
The curate even brought out an original version of Ibn Khaldun’s famous work, Muqadimmah , dating back to the fourteenth century.
He displayed it on an emerald green and gold velvet pillow.
After putting on a pair of white cotton gloves, I was allowed to flip through a few of the pages. It was like touching God.
As we were getting ready to leave, another staff member ran up to Dimitri and handed him a cloth-wrapped package. “Your purchase, sir.”
“What’s that?”
Dimitri handed it to me. “Open it and see.”
My eyes narrowed. “You promised no more elaborate gifts.”
“I lied.”
“Dimitri…”
He gave me a wink. “Would it help if I promised it wasn’t jewelry?”
My lips tweaked at the corners. He really did have the devil’s own charm.
Pulling back the black velvet, I could only stare in stunned wonder.
It was a three-volume collection of books. They were a beautiful dark green Moroccan leather with heavily gilded spines and moiré silk endpapers.
Carefully opening the cover, I stared down at the intricate title page.
The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night by Richard Burton, First Edition 1885, published by the Kamashastra Society.
It was the quintessential English translation of the Arabian Nights.
I adored rare books. There was something about the electric feeling you got when you touched them.
As if you held not only the author’s work in your hand, but the energy and essence of those who had read the book over the centuries. It was an extremely powerful feeling.
“Is this truly for me?” I whispered, touching a single reverent fingertip to the page. “I love it. I’ll treasure it for always and always.”
Stepping up behind me, he wrapped an arm around my waist as he looked over my shoulder down at the book. “You really are a marvel, Emma. I know no other woman in the world who would be happier getting an old book than a quarter of a million dollar diamond bracelet.”
Shocked, I turned in his embrace, hugging the books to my chest. “Wait. What?” I help up my arm, displaying the ever-present diamond bracelet on my wrist. Horrified, I asked, “Dimitri, please tell me I haven’t been walking around with a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bracelet on my arm!”
“Did you know your eyes become flecked with gold when you’re angry… or aroused?”
“Don’t change the subject!”
He looked down at his watch. “It’s getting late. We should head back to the hotel.”
“Dimitri…”
After that he picked me up into his arms and kissed me senseless, so I forgot why I was mad.
* * *
“I won’t be long.”
I looked up from my book. I was in heaven, reading volume one of his gift outside in the courtyard surrounded by the soft glow of several stained glass lamps with the smell of spice and citrus in the air. It felt like I was truly in an Arabian palace, experiencing every word on the page.
He had showered and changed into a suit for his meeting. I didn’t have to be told I wasn’t invited.
He sat beside me and nuzzled my neck. “Did you know they consider this translation the most sexually explicit?”
I knew that. It had had to be privately printed otherwise they would have thrown Richard Burton in prison for the graphic descriptions of the various Kama Sutra-like positions throughout the text.
“Perhaps when you return, I’ll read some of it to you… naked.”
Dimitri growled and loosened his tie. “Fuck my meeting.”
As he leaned over me, there was a knock on the door.
He hung his head and muttered a curse under his breath.
Rising, he straightened his tie. “Be a good girl. I’ll just be downstairs in the restaurant. Order something from room service while I’m gone.”
He bent down and gave me a quick kiss before leaving.
Moments later there was a knock on the door.
Dimitri must have forgotten something.
Closing my book and holding it against my chest as I headed toward the door, I called out, “Coming.”
“Did you forget your key?” I asked as I opened the door.
There was a sharp pain… then everything went black.