The Ambassador and Me: an unlikely love story (The Ambassador Trilogy Book 1)
Read The Ambassador and Me: an unlikely love story (The Ambassador Trilogy Book 1) Online
Authors: Mia Villano
The Ambassador Trilogy Book 1
Mia Villano
Mia Villano Books
This book is fiction. Name, characters, businesses, places, events and situations are all products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Copyright © 2015 by Mia Villano
The Ambassador and Me
Cover Art by J. Sheats jnsheats.com
Edited by Amy Stone
Chapter 1
T
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cool September air welcomed me as I stepped nervously out of the blacked-out SUV. It didn’t hit me until right then: I was alone. Why did I agree to attend this highly-publicized political event solo? My heart pounded in my back as a man in a tux and a headset escorted me out of my car and toward the festivities. Cameras flashed everywhere like a red carpet affair waiting for an A-list celebrity. Limos and high-end SUV’s were letting people out one after the other. I scrambled to pull myself together before I walked any further.
I’m in control. I can do this,
I told myself.
No one needs to hold my hand and walk with me
. I fidgeted and pulled at my new Chanel dress. Black and tastefully short, it showed off my toned legs, my ample breasts, and ass. Since the age of thirteen there was nothing I could do to hide my curves. No diet, exercise or spandex would get rid of these boobs and ass. They sprung up overnight and stayed. I had the body of my grandmother, I was told. That was fine if you’re running around a farm in a dress and apron making spaghetti and milking goats. I hated my curves and had to be careful of everything I wore. I hope I picked the right dress for this event. I guess it was a little too late now to worry about it. Usually my parents attend every year and we go as one big happy family. This year things were different. I was the only one that wanted to attend. But, I had my reasons.
The clacking sound of my new Louboutins against the sidewalk gave me something else to focus on as I walked up to the magnificent house. The mystique surrounding the French Ambassador’s mansion, with its huge ballrooms and snobby guests, came to light as I walked up the wide front steps. The security guard at the door smiled at me as he guided me where to line up to introduce myself to the man everyone was talking about. Once inside the double wooden doors, the clanging of glass, the low hum of people talking, and a band playing in the distance set the mood. A huge army of staff people escorted me to a line that went on forever waiting to be greeted by him. I took my place in the receiving line and noticed it was moving quickly. I inched up slowly and moved closer to the end of the line as I caught a glimpse of this extraordinary man.
A waiter came up to me with a tray filled with four flutes of champagne.
“Champagne?”
I hesitated. I wanted a vodka straight up, but champagne was better than nothing. It also gave me something to hold onto instead of clutching my shoulder bag to my body.
“Thank you.” I said, with a nervous smile.
The couple in front of me also accepted champagne and turned to me with their glasses up.
“To the new Ambassador,” they said, in some sort of accent I wasn’t familiar with. I smiled and did the same.
It was hard to believe in two short days I would be working at the French Embassy as the Defense Attaché’s assistant. This job was what I wanted and fought like hell to get. I had obsessed over my interview, painstakingly went over every aspect of the Ambassador's job at the Embassy, and had studied the country of France every day. I brushed up on what few words and phrases I knew and overly prepared. Oddly, neither the Attaché nor the Ambassador had the time to interview me. The office assistant conducted the entire interview process and I made it through three rounds. Once I was informed I was hired, I did take the opportunity to look up the new Ambassador on the internet and, if the pictures did him justice, he was beyond gorgeous. Just appointed to replace the French Ambassador that passed away, Fabrice Arbidoux was thirty-six years old, single, and powerful. He commanded an army in France before becoming the Ambassador and wrote two books on defense. He looked more like a movie star than an Ambassador. Hoping the Attaché would be just as handsome, I looked him as well. Unfortunately, he was not. He was an older, short man with a scowl on his face, a mustache, and a couple of chins. This was my first real job away from the family restaurant and I didn’t need any distractions. Sadly, there would be none working for him.
As I crept up further in the receiving line, I was able to get a good look at the handsome Ambassador who was hosting the gala. Gazing at him, I wondered if he fucked as good as he looked. Mr. Arbidoux was even more exquisite than the pictures on the Internet. The lines around his eyes made him look handsomely mature when he smiled. He was dressed in a black tux, black tie, and I noticed how delicious his body looked under it. I had seen a picture of him in camouflage leading the French Special Forces and in khakis and a sweater, but this black tux was over the top. His tall muscular body made it unbelievable. Masculinity and relentless power oozed out of him. His hair was dark, peppered throughout with gray. A day's worth of scruff on his face made me think of sex instantly. I would love to feel it rubbing across my body. With a full pouty mouth, and deep-sea-blue eyes, his good looks were brutal and intimidating. Without even trying, he was in charge of the room; Fabrice Arbidoux demanded respect and took in everything without a blink of an eye. I noticed this in a few seconds and without speaking to him.
One more person and I would be standing in front of him. The idea of leaving crossed my mind because I didn’t know what I would say. Dear God, I was going to touch him when I shook his hand. What if I tripped and fell? The floor seemed to come out from under me and I prayed I didn’t wobble in my heels. I kept my eyes on him and tried not to look at anything else. He extended his hand to me as I concentrated on walking up to him. I placed my hand in his and he had the softest hands I ever felt.
“I’m Fabrice Arbidoux, the French Ambassador. Welcome to my home.”
Jesus Christ, that accent. I looked down as I shook a strong hand and noticed he had a manicure and a Rolex watch under his shirtsleeve. He also wore the same new, very expensive, cuff link bracelet my brother just bought. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen from head to toe. I hoped that he didn’t realize I was eye fucking him as I stood there and took him in.
Don’t do it Isabella.
My brain stopped like a skipping record. As if my body was detached from my head, my eyes went right to the front of his pants. I couldn’t control it. As he held my hand, someone came up to him and whispered in his ear and he continued to look at me. Was it me or did he do that with all the women that came through the line?
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ambassador. I’m Isabella Piori, your Attaché’s new assistant.”
“Is that right?” This man riveted me. I was in a trance. He was raw sex in a tux and nothing like I had ever seen before.
“Yes, I start on Monday.”
He let go of my hand and continued to look into my eyes. His gaze searched my entire body and made me self-conscious. It was a moment I wish I could have stopped time. I didn’t know how he did it without being obvious, but somehow he managed. My body wouldn’t move once I stood in front of him and he touched me. I knew I had to move along, yet something wouldn’t let me. Maybe it was his eyes, his voice, or the way he smelled. How could he look so at ease yet so capable in a room full of people?
“General Gerard is here somewhere. Please introduce yourself to him tonight. Have a wonderful evening, Miss Piori. Let’s talk later. Mingle and enjoy yourself.”
“Thank you.” That was all that I could say. I walked away, and it wasn’t but a few minutes when I turned around and saw Vance, the man that interviewed me for the job.
“Didn’t I interview you for the Attaché’s job?”
I smiled. “Yes. Remember, I spilled water on my resume?”
“That’s right. I’m glad you made it to the gala. It’s something else, isn’t it?” A tall and lanky man, he eyed me warily. He was Asian with hair cut in a flat top. He had deep dark features and full pink lips. Not good looking, but his appearance was impeccable and well groomed.
“I was happy to do it. It gave me a chance to meet the Attaché before I work for him and the Ambassador.” I didn’t feel it necessary to inform him that I have been to these types of parties since I was a little girl.
“Mr. Arbidoux is a hot commodity tonight. Every single woman in D.C would drop their thongs for him in seconds. If only I could mesmerize women like that. Christ, I’ve worked with him every day and none of his charm has rubbed off. I’m still waiting.” Vance crossed his arms and nodded toward the Ambassador. Some of the women standing around him looked like super models. Quite a few introduced themselves and hung around like vultures circling their prey, smiling, and laughing nervously at everything he said.
“Would you like another drink? I’m going to get champagne.”
I looked at my champagne glass I had forgot I was holding. It was still half-full but I could use another soon.
“Yes, thank you.” He walked toward the bar, leaving me standing there alone.
Leaning up against the wall, I parked myself near a beautiful portrait of what looked like a French countryside. I knew it would be a bad idea to come to this by myself, but I had wanted to do it. Venturing out of my comfort zone was something I needed. For the past three years I haven’t been myself, and it was time to get it together. This solo adventure seemed like the perfect start.
After standing around for ten minutes, I realized Vance must have forgotten my champagne. I glanced over at the bar and he looked engrossed in a conversation with a tall blonde. It was at that moment when I decided to leave, the Ambassador caught my eye and nodded at me. I smiled and looked away. Heat crawled up my face as it usually did when I felt uncomfortable. Congressman Stern, a regular at the restaurant came up with his wife, asking where my parents were. I made small talk with him, referring to my new job, and before I knew it, the Ambassador was standing in front of me.
Handing me the glass of champagne, he winked, leaned close to my ear, and whispered, “You look like you could use this.” His accent was beyond arousing. My nipples hardened in my strapless bra. What I could use was a quickie in the closet, I thought to myself.
“Thank you, yes. I’m waiting for the Attaché and heading out.” I smiled slightly, afraid to look into his eyes.
“Leave already? You just walked in.”
“I did.” I wanted to introduce myself and not stay. “I’ve been going to these parties since I was ten years old. I never liked them.” I cringed inside after saying that. I forgot this was his home and his welcoming gala.
His smile relaxed me.