My Sweet Isabella (The Ambassador Trilogy #3) Page 3

  I called for the nurse again.

  “Yes, Ambassador.” She sounded annoyed with me. I couldn’t fucking care less. I was annoyed with myself.

  “Where is Isabella?”

  “Who?”

  “Isabella.” How many times did I have to say it? My attitude was on high aggressive alert.

  “Oh, your girlfriend.” I don’t like this woman. She was rude and put off by my questions.

  “Yes, where is she?”

  “I believe she went home with your parents to sleep. She said she would be back in the morning.”

  I turned away from her and looked out the window.

  “Is there anything else?” Yes, there was. Go fuck yourself I wanted to say.

  “Yes, where is my phone? I need my phone to call Isabella.”

  “I don’t know. I gave your personal belongings to your girlfriend.” That’s just wonderful. How was I supposed to call anyone if I didn’t have my phone with me?

  She walked over, took my temperature, and checked the lines going into my body. I still had an IV, and a heart monitor. She put a shot of something into my IV.

  “What was that?” Maybe she was a terrorist and poisoned me? I was going mad.

  “Something to help you sleep and you have a slight fever. You need to sleep.”

  She looked at my tray of food and shook her head.

  “You also need to eat, Ambassador. You aren’t going to get well if you don’t. Would you like me to have something brought up from the kitchen?” Was she kidding. This wasn’t food. This shit was disgusting.

  I shook my head no. She said nothing more, grabbed my tray, and left. Good riddance. I had enough of her. Whatever she put in my IV took effect. The fight to keep my eyes open was overcome with sleep. My dreams were of Isabella. Always of Isabella.

  The next time I opened my eyes, I was more aware of where I was. The sight of the armed guard outside my door would not let me forget someone wanted me dead. I looked over and saw my beautiful girl there sitting beside me. She held my hand as I woke up.

  “Good morning.” Her voice echoed the beauty of her smile.

  My morning was good now. Staring into her brown eyes soothed my soul and comforted my agitated state. Isabella was the best medicine there was.

  “Hello. You look so beautiful and I feel scruffy.” I managed to croak out. The day was overcast and rainy. I heard the rain on the window and saw the big drops trickle down the panes of the glass, but she was my sunshine inside that dreary room.

  “I like you scruffy.” She reached over and pushed the hair out of my eyes.

  “You slept for a long time. They were worried you were getting an infection, so they pumped you full of antibiotics and more medicine to keep you asleep. I’m so glad you are up now. No signs of an infection either. Are you hungry?”

  God, I was hungry for her. I guess that part of me hadn’t gone to shit. I looked at her neck and pictured my tongue licking my way down to her gorgeous cleavage. My mind wanted her, but my body would not be able to cooperate yet. The soreness of my leg reminded me I was still not capable. Would I ever be able to have her like I was used to? Would I ever be fully recovered to do what I needed to her? I was so helpless in that hospital. I wanted out of there.

  “I brought your favorite dessert. Your mom said you loved these when you were a little boy.” I sat up and smelled the coffee in the two cups she sat on the tray in front of me. The scent of freshly brewed, strong black coffee, stirred my appetite. I attempted to sit up and winced. Isabella was quick to assist me. There was an odd whooshing feeling in my head. Sharp stabs of pain went through my leg with each move I tried to make.

  “What did you bring me?” I asked, plastering a smile on my face to hide my distress.

  “Mille-feuille. Your mom and I made these last night. Boy, what a job. I think we were up till two in the morning.” I loved hearing she was cooking with my mother. Cooking was her passion and she cooked so well. I would eat anything she made.

  Isabella kept talking. “Everything you eat here is filled with butter and cream. If I don’t get home soon, I’m going to weigh four hundred pounds.” She laughed at me as she fed me pieces of the wonderful cream filled pastry. The memories of home dashed through my head as I savored each bite. The smell of this delicious dessert was part of my pleasant childhood. My mom cooked these for me on special occasions or when I was sick, and the smell of butter and cream would be in the air. That memory took me back to better days of youth and innocence.

  “You really made this?” I asked in between small bites. She fed me, and I loved the food and the attention.

  “I did. Well, with the help of your mom. I can’t wait to make this at home for my family. They’ll love this dessert.” She was so alive when she talked about her family and cooking. I loved to see the happiness in her face.

  “Next we’re making macaroons.” I lifted the cup slowly and carefully sipped my coffee. The cup felt heavy in my hand as I shakily lifted it to my lips. The heat of the beverage going down my insides felt warm and soothing.

  A nurse walked in, interrupting my moment with my fiancé.

  “Good morning, Ambassador and Isabella.” She seemed surprised to see the food going into my mouth and gave Isabella a wink.

  “I see you’re getting him to eat. The nurse last night said not only wouldn’t he eat, but he was asking for you, and was quite grumpy. Mr. Ambassador, I find that hard to believe. You, grumpy?” she smiled at me and I wanted her to leave me alone with Isabella so we could go back to enjoying the dessert she brought me in private.

  “Fabrice, be nice to these nurses. They’re making you better so you can come home with me,” Isabella smiled between a soft kiss on my lips.

  “The doctor will be in soon. Your chart says you are being discharged today. That’s a good thing. You are going to need to get up and walk to this chair for me with the crutches before I can let you out of here. Whenever you are ready, call me. Enjoy your breakfast first. Is there anything I could get you?”

  I shook my head, no.

  Thank God I’m getting out of here. No one told me, or maybe they did and I don’t remember.

  “I brought you some clothes. Sweats, actually so we can get them over your cast. I remember they told you yesterday about leaving today, but you were so out of it. And yes, we’re going home to the vineyard. Your dad had everything set up for us.”

  “The vineyard?”

  “Yes, the house you have there. You asked your dad about the security last night. He has everything taken care of. I told you about the security system yesterday. We are going to stay there until you get better and can get back to Washington. The house has been cleaned thoroughly, and the electricity and water have been turned on. We had your things taken out of storage and set up your office for you. You can get back to work in a few days and, I’m staying with you until you kick me out,” she laughed. I tried to take all of this into my foggy brain. Some things I couldn’t remember as a dream or actually happening.

  “You did this in three days?” I asked.

  “Well, your dad hired people to do this in three days. They worked around the clock. You wouldn’t believe what went on there. The place was filled with contractors, painters, and security. Your home is so beautiful. I may not ever want to leave.” She smiled at me.

  I had not been inside the house since my brother stole money from me. The last time I was in there, Celeste was my wife, and we had planned on growing old in that house. We had plans to fill the house with babies and never leave. Now I was going there to convalesce with Isabella.

  “There have been so many reporters in front of the hospital these past three days. I had to be taken into a secret back entrance. It’s insane, Fabrice. I don’t know how we’re going to get you out of here. Though, Gustan says he has the security handled.”

  I have not watched the news in days. I had no idea what was going on outside those four walls. I didn’t even know what day it was or how long I had
actually been there.

  “You’re all the talk. Gustan has been interviewed numerous times Witnesses say you and Gustan were heroes. My mom and dad said the news is all over CNN, and Anderson Cooper is here somewhere broadcasting.” I became somber recalling that day again. I was not a hero. Because of me ten people were killed.

  “Where is Gustan?” He was supposed to be with her. I gave him orders to be with her. Where the fuck was he?

  “He is setting up in the guest house on the vineyard. He’ll be here when we are ready to leave. He said he’s going to stay with us for a while.” I caught her rolling her eyes.

  She grew quiet and walked to the window to look out. I knew something was on her mind.

  “Fabrice, there was someone else who insisted on seeing you.” She walked back over to me and sat down on the bed again. Her hand came to sit on my chest over my beating heart.

  She turned to look at me again. One of the survivors, General Morou, who?

  “Who?” I finally asked.

  “Your brother.” Ice rushed through my body. Fuck. I knew he would take this opportunity to make an appearance. That bastard.

  Her eyes searched my face. A sigh escaped her lips. She knew how I felt about Romain. That bastard only came around when he needed something and that something was usually money. He would pick now to weasel his way back into my life. If I was hurt and the story was on the news, he could use that to get to me. I had not spoken to him in years. When he nearly ruined me and embezzled money from my winery, I vowed not to speak to him again. However, Isabella changed my feelings for him when I saw how much she loved her family. I had a change of heart when I talked to her about what he did to me. That was until this.

  “Where is he?” I demanded.

  “He’s at your parent’s. He arrived there yesterday,” she said, shakily, afraid I would be mad at her for him coming around.

  “You’ve met him?” She looked away from me and nodded. This bastard Romain was nothing but a playboy with a weakness for women. His grimy ass better not have made a move on Isabella. I would kill him, crippled or not.

  “Yes, I met him last night. I was apprehensive to talk to him, but he was extremely nice. He’s different, Fabrice. He’s turned his life around. I had a long talk with him.”

  “What kind of talk?” I didn’t like the sounds of that. I couldn’t get out of here soon enough.

  “He told me about himself. I asked him about the time he stole money from you and he admitted he did. He knows embezzling from you was wrong. He’s drug free and working in Rome. He has a fiancé now. She didn’t come with him, but he showed me pictures of her.”

  I didn’t have anything to say. He’d been married before. I met one of his three wives. She was a prostitute or a stripper from God knows where. I’m sure this new fiancé was as bad.

  “You don’t have to see him right now. He isn’t coming up here. Your parents told him to stay away until you were ready.”

  That was a relief. I might never be ready.

  “How is Mamma?” My poor mother was up at my bedside many times. Her and Isabella would take turns each day sitting with me. I know this had to be hard on her. I had to tell her to go home and get some rest a few times and she would refuse until Isabella came back. I remember her talking to me when I was in and out of consciousness, holding my hand and praying.

  “She’s doing better since you’re better. She’s been helping me get the house ready and of course, we have been baking. She’s there now cooking your favorite meals. You are quite the spoiled boy, Fabrice.” My Isabella smiled at me again. Her eyes looked dark with the strain of exhaustion. I wondered how she saw me now. Did she see I was a beaten down man or was I still her hero? Did she see someone she was expected to take care of?

  As If she could read my mind, she said, “Let’s get you up and walking, Fabrice. I want to get you home and take care of you. I will help you get dressed, and we are going to get you to that chair. I know I want to sleep with you and snuggle up to you tonight in your bed. I want to feed you, massage you, and take away your pain. Only you and me tonight in that big vineyard of yours and after all of this, doesn’t that sound amazing?”

  God, it did. The last time she and I were at the vineyard, I poured hot candle wax on her body outside under the stars. That was the same night I had proposed to her. Our lives were so filled with promises and future plans. Would I still be the same man? Would our lives still be filled with plans for the future?

  I hated to have Isabella help me get dressed. She took so much care in not hurting me as she eased my arms through the shirt and was so careful pulling up my pants. I felt like an eighty-year old helpless man or like a bystander watching from a distance. I hated to depend on anyone to help me. I never depended on anyone.

  The doctor came in and told me I had a long and hard road ahead of me to get back to the shape I was before the shooting, but he was optimistic I would be able to make a full recovery. I would need physical therapy every day, and I would remain on more antibiotics and pain medication for a while. I had to stay put in Paris for three months so they could monitor my leg and my progress in healing. He told me I would be able to resume sexual activity as soon as I felt comfortable. That’s fine, but he had no idea the type of sexual activity I enjoyed? I highly doubted it. Once again he told me I was lucky to be alive and could put this behind me soon. I doubted that too. I’m not the same man. I didn’t say that to him, willing to portray myself as anything other than the strong, confident Ambassador.

  I took the crutches and willed myself to walk to the chair and get the hell out of there. The first step was the hardest. As soon as I stood up I was lightheaded and the pain in my leg shot through to my foot. However, I had a lot of eyes on me and that was motivation enough. Sweat covered my body and every nerve inside me throbbed from the pain. Isabella walked beside me ready to grab me if I fell. To see the concern in her eyes hit me hard, how weak I was. I was no longer Fabrice Arbidoux, but the shell of the man I use to be. I was a disappointment. No longer the Special Ops hero or the tough invincible guy. I had an injury that screamed I was weak; I couldn’t look weak. The only thing I had to worry about was making sure Isabella was safe. I had to get stronger in order to make sure she would be safe. I’m not the weak one. I’m the strong one, in charge, leading the way into battle. I might not be myself right now, but I would do everything I could to be the man I used to be and maybe a little tougher. No, this was not going to break me. This was going to make me stronger. I had an angel to protect.

  Getting out of the hospital was a feat in itself. There were reporters from everywhere standing around waiting for a glimpse of me. Gustan had to sneak me out through the basement in a wheelchair with a towel covering my head. It was like we were on a covert operation again. We managed to speed off undetected by the paparazzi. By the time we made our way home, I was exhausted and my leg screamed in pain. The hour long ride from Paris to the vineyard gave me the opportunity to try and sleep, but I couldn’t. Every bump made me cringe and a shot a pain tore through my leg. Isabella was snuggled up against me as she slept soundly. I didn’t want to wake her so I bit my lip to keep from screaming out in agony as I watched her looking peaceful and content.

  There was now a guard at the entrance to the vineyard. My dad had a small building put up for him by the entrance to the drive. He was big, mean looking, and very serious about his job. His name was Marcos, and he assured me no one would be allowed past him without clearance. He told me Gustan handpicked him for the job, and served in the Special Ops Brigade as a commander. That was a good sign. I felt safer after talking to him. I told him I would be down to see him soon and go over a few things.

  The long, dusty, dirt road led to my vineyard with my small house far in the back of the property. Seeing the house in the distance, I realized I had missed the place. The peacefulness and acres of green grass made me feel comforted. I peered out the window to marvel in the rows and rows of grapevines just now growing. T
he sun was setting and cast a pink hue over the property I fell in love with as a young boy. My parent’s house was close by and I grew up riding my bike out to the vineyards to sit and read. I knew then the vineyard would be mine one day and at a young age, I vowed to buy the property.

  The house was beautiful and nearly unrecognizable when I walked in. Isabella put her touch of decorating inside and rearranged the furniture differently than it had been in the past. The house was painted, cleaned, and remodeled. I loved how the interior looked with a French country cottage feel. A state of the art security system was installed as my dad had promised.

  Compared to my home in D.C. and my parents’ home, this house could fit in either of them twice. The house was small but opened and airy and perfect for the two of us. I always loved this house and missed living on the vineyard. My home was so peaceful and comfortable I instantly felt tired and wanted to sleep. I took a hot shower with Isabella helping to keep my leg out of the water. Isabella fed me some delicious food my mother had prepared earlier, but I was too exhausted to eat more than a few bites. She and I went to lie down on my bed. She snuggled next to me and the softness of her body and her familiar scent lulled me to relax completely for the first time in days. I was instantly asleep.

  I was seeped in the warmth of the French sunshine as I opened my eyes. I had tried not to take pain pills, but the first night home was quite excruciating. Isabella gave me a pain pill to ease my discomfort in the middle of the night and allow me to get some rest. She slept next to me all night. I gazed at the perfect form of a woman under my blankets with her back to me. Her hair splayed over my pillows and I couldn’t help but snuggle closer to her. Maybe, I was a lucky man. She was naked under those blankets. Before the accident, we made up a silly rule we would not go to bed dressed. She’d had a hard time with the idea of not wearing clothes and took some convincing, but afterward she accepted that she slept much better and enjoyed being more easily accessible to each other. The thought of anyone hurting an inch of her made the anger boil inside me. I needed to see Gustan to go over what I wanted done to keep her safe. But, at that moment I wanted to keep her satisfied.