My Sweet Isabella (The Ambassador Trilogy #3) (5 page)

“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.

G
etting
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. The 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.

My hand roamed under the covers to caress her warm, soft body. Touching her made me burn with passion and want. Her love for me was more than I deserved. I became instantly hard when I felt the swell of her hips and the dip at her. My need for her coursed through my veins. She was the other part of me I never knew I needed until I had her.

Isabella moaned and I caught a smile on her sleepy face.

“Good morning.” I whispered in her ear, trying to ignore the pain in my leg as I turned over on my side.

“Well, good morning to you, Ambassador. Did you sleep well, finally?”

“Better. The pain pill helped and knowing you were next to me was relaxing.”

“I feel something else has woken up,” she laughed and snuggled up to me. She buried her face in my neck, and her hand went to my throbbing cock.

“I’m back, and I want you.”

“Are you sure you’re up for this? I can wait till you are healed, Fabrice.” The night before I wanted to be inside her, but she was too worried sex would hurt me. She insisted on sucking me off instead, and I agreed hoping an orgasm would get me to sleep. The blow job didn’t help me sleep, but her mouth felt fucking amazing.

“We’ll go slow and easy,” I groaned, getting more aroused by the second. My cock ached to be inside her.

My hands found the spot I knew so well, warm, wet, and bare. The feeling of her was almost as wonderful as the first time I touched her there. She was made for me.

My finger went inside her and she gasped. I made some sort of moaning sound of my need.

“You like that?” I asked, half smiling. Christ, her pussy was so tight and yet so perfectly wet. I had to be balls deep in her soon, or I would come.

She nodded, and I nuzzled my face between her breasts taking in her scent and feeling the warmth of her flesh.

“Touch your breasts for me, baby,” I moaned. I loved watching her touch herself in front of me. Her hand went up to her perfect mounds and instantly her nipples hardened under her fingertips. With my hand inside her sweet pussy, I could feel her get wetter as she squirmed under me. I plunged my fingers in and out of her deeper as she dug her heels into the bed and arched her back. She urged me to push into her deeper when she did this. Fuck, this was amazing.

“I want you so bad, Isabella.”

“Fabrice.” The throaty need in her voice always turned me on.

I pushed her legs farther apart and she moaned louder guiding my hand to push farther into her. The warmth of her cunt made my stomach clench. My chest heaved as I began to breathe heavier. I felt the warm wetness drip on the tip of my cock. I wasn’t going to last long. I needed to have her come before I did.

“How do you want to do this?” she moaned.

Since the gunshot wound was in my thigh and the cast was up high, we had not considered her getting on top so soon. That was her favorite position and she went crazy when she did. That morning all I wanted was to have her straddle me. I would work through the pain to have her legs wrapped around my waist and watch her breasts bounce up and down.

“Straddle me.” I groaned, shifting my body and laying on my back. The cast felt like my leg weighed a hundred pounds.

“I’ll be gentle, baby,” she whispered. I could see the lust and need was in her heavily lidded eyes.

Closing my eyes, praying the pain would not be so bad, I let her straddle my waist. Each move brought a small shot of pain through my leg. I had to force myself to let the agony go so I could feel the softness of her cunt sliding over my cock.

Being careful to hold her weight off me, she lifted my cock up not taking her eyes off mine. Oh God, what a view I had. I put a pillow behind my head to watch as she lifted herself up and sat down on me slowly. That first glide of my cock inside her warm pussy was the best. Her wet swollen lips took me in one sweep.

She sat down on my cock and my eyes immediately rolled back in my head. Her hands touched her breasts as she moved up and down slowly and carefully. I knew what she wanted. She needed to rub her clit to get off. I reached down and let my thumb press on her. Her clit was swollen, needy and pulsating.