The Ambassador and Me: an unlikely love story (The Ambassador Trilogy Book 1) (7 page)

Fabrice smiled at me and nodded. The meeting lasted an hour and I was glad I attended. Most of the talk centered on a terror threat in Paris and the need to up security in government buildings. They placed a conference call to Paris with the Vice President. It was going to be necessary to send someone there to oversee the police and forces. The Attaché volunteered to go, but informed us quickly that he was not taking an assistant. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I watched as Fabrice held his meeting with authority. Everyone seemed to respect him and listen to what he had to say. I watched how he sat, relaxed and yet ready to start talking at a moment’s notice. He seemed intent on running the meeting, yet he focused on me whenever he looked out. With his chair across from mine, we couldn’t help but look at each other.

After an hour of discussing a hostage takeover at the American embassy in Africa, the price of gas, and the week’s events the meeting was over. I wanted to get out of there before I missed my train and had to take the later one. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the meeting, except Fabrice who watched me as I walked to the door. He told Elizabeth he would meet her back at the office. I tried to take my time collecting my things because I thought he was going to talk to me. He started to walk in my direction when the Attaché cornered him.

“Fabrice. It seems we have a situation. I just received a call from Paris. It looks like we both will have to fly out this evening. Can you come into my office? I have the Defense Ministry on the line. We have a situation that needs addressed immediately.”

He looked at me and our eyes caught as I walked out the door. It was uncomfortable standing there while they spoke.

It wasn’t until that evening when I was watching the news that I was officially told what happened. Apparently terrorists stormed a coffee shop in Paris and took hostages in a news station. It was a very bad situation, and one that Fabrice had to deal with. I stayed up all night watching and wondering if Fabrice had made it there safely and hoping to get a glimpse of him. By the time I fell asleep, around one in the morning, twelve people had died and they stormed the news station and killed the terrorists.

Arriving at my job the next morning, I found out the General Gerard and Fabrice would be gone for several days. The General left me detailed instructions on how I was to set up and organize the French defense authorities’ visit for the next week. I had to get one of the senior administrators to guide me along but, in the end, I handled like a pro. I was proud of myself and was sure that General Gerard would be happy or at least amused.

When they arrived back the following Monday, I was excited to see Fabrice. My heart skipped a beat when they called us to a meeting. We were informed on what happened and nothing that was reported in the news was accurate. Once again, I was transfixed on Fabrice as he ran the meeting. The meeting didn’t last very long, and I was ready to go home and call it a day. Everyone walked to the door and, before I could get all my work gathered up, Fabrice came up to me.

“Miss Piori. Can I have a word with you?” He asked as I stopped in the doorway.

“Certainly.” All I could think of was he hated my father’s food and he wanted to tell me he would not be back to the restaurant, or the Attaché wanted to replace me.

“Share an elevator?

“Sure, I’m going down, though.”

“Moonlight again tonight at the restaurant?” He smiled at me as we walked to the elevators down the hall.

“As a matter of fact, I think I’m scheduled.” I laughed.

Fabrice remained quiet until the elevator descended.

“Are you headed home?” he asked. The question came out of nowhere and it took me by total surprise.

“Yes, I’m trying to not miss the train. It looks like it is pouring out.”

“I have to be somewhere; come with me, and I will take you home.”

“No, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Come on.” He gestured to the main doors where there were several blacked-out SUVs parked with their flashers on.

“Ride home with you?” I became a babbling idiot. My face was on fire.

“Yes, Isabella, with me.” He looked at me and I couldn’t look away. He had those eyes that I could get lost in. The sudden wetness between my legs told me that this would be a lot better than riding the train.

Fabrice grabbed an umbrella from the door attendant and opened it over my head before we ran out. Once the driver opened the door for both of us I slid into the backseat with him behind me.

“Did you enjoy your meal last week at my restaurant?” I asked nervously. I was trying to make small talk but didn’t know what I should ask him. He sat right next to me with his wool pants touching my bare leg.

“C'était délicieux.”

“I assume that was delicious?”

“Oui, I mean yes. I love Italian food and visit Italy as much as possible. That dinner was very authentic. Do you have a chef?” he asked.

“We did, but he and my dad got in a huge fight.”

“Was fish involved?” He smiled.

“Ha, no. He did overcook the linguini. My father believes it should be al dente and the chef disagreed. He caught my dad on a bad day,” I babbled again and forced myself to shut up.

“Your father is tough.”

“Yes, he thinks he’s tougher than he is.” My dad’s past was sketchy and he only told us some of it. I do know he was one of ten children. His parents came over from Italy and my grandfather had started Mayme and Danny’s as a diner. The whole family worked in the restaurant and there was no time for anything else. Two of my dad’s brothers were killed in Vietnam; I was close to some of them and we saw them on Sundays. My father, the youngest, was the most successful of the ten. He worked his way up the streets of New York as a kid and fought his way through the Italian gangs. He claims he was friends with John Gotti back in the day. John wanted them to work together but my grandfather beat the crap out of my dad when he found out and forbid him. Thankfully, my dad changed his way of thinking and took my grandparents advice. He was the only one of the ten interested in the restaurant, so he took it over and kept it going.

After my second uncle died in Vietnam, my grandparents moved the restaurant to Washington D.C. I didn’t know why they chose that area. My mom was going to school at Georgetown and that is how she met my father. She was studying to be a lawyer but quit once she met my dad and didn’t go back. She fell in love with my dad when he beat up a guy one night that wouldn’t leave my mom and her girlfriends alone at a bar. She knew he was the one when he took out the guy with one punch and turned to her and smiled.

I sighed and tried to ignore Fabrice’s sensual good looks by concentrating on the traffic and impending storm coming in. It was virtually impossible. He was so visible to all my senses. My thoughts were on how gorgeous he must be under that suit. Did he have boxers on? What color was his underwear? Did he groom himself down there? How his skin would burn against mine. How big he must be and how good it would feel inside me.

“I’m on my way to another meeting with and the Secretary of State. I need to stop at my old office to pick up notes for my meeting. Do you mind?” He said, in a thick accent. All I heard was, “I need”.

“No, not at all. I appreciate this ride home. I have a car. I hate having to deal with the traffic and finding a place to park. The train goes right to my apartment, so it is convenient.” I needed to shut up. Like he cares about all this.

He pulled a bar of chocolate out of his leather bag and ripped it open. He broke off a piece and asked if I would like to try it. It smelled heavenly.

“No, thank you.” I politely declined. I glanced over and watched him enjoy the piece of chocolate he was eating as he closed his eyes. It was quite a sensual sight. It, of course, made me think of how he would enjoy a blowjob, his head thrown back and eyes closed, moaning. It must have had caramel in it, because while he was chewing some of the caramel was on his lips still. The thought crossed my mind to lick it off, but I knew that would not be proper.

“Fabrice, you have some.” I motioned with my finger to my own lip. He tried to wipe it but kept missing the spot.

“Did I get it?” he asked.

“Not quite. If you don’t mind.” I was going to touch his lip. I couldn’t breathe. I wiped the caramel on his lip and he grabbed my hand. Without missing a step, he had my finger in his mouth and licked the caramel off. I almost came. His mouth was so wet and warm. His soft tongue brushed my fingertip, and I wanted it to brush my clit.

“Not missing a sliver of that. It’s La Maison Du Chocolat, the best. Are you sure you would not like to try some, Isabella?” Boy, did I want some.

“No, I’m fine.” I was still reeling from his finger licking. He smiled.

“I love this chocolate. It’s another guilty pleasure of mine.”

“I see. You are starting to have a list of guilty pleasures, Mr. Arbidoux.”

“That I do, Isabella. That I do.” He licked his bottom lip and I had to turn my head and focus on the weather.

“That makes two of us.” I said, as I looked back at him and smiled.

We arrived at another office building, not far from the Embassy.

“Come in with me. I will show you my old office before I moved to my new location. Plus, you shouldn’t sit outside in a government car for too long.”

The driver opened the door for us. Fabrice helped me slide across the seat. He told the driver not to leave and the driver nodded at him.

He swiped a card through the security at the door and opened it for me. An older woman sat at a desk and smiled when he walked in. I was confused at what was going on.

“Good afternoon, Ambassador Arbidoux.” She smiled up at him.

“Good afternoon, Rita. I won’t be long. This is Isabella Piori. She is the new assistant to the Attaché. We are retrieving something for a meeting.”

He touched my waist and guided me to a hallway; he unlocked the door and stepped into a spacious office. I was even more confused at where we were. The office was elaborate with artwork on the walls, a huge television, and lush expensive furniture.

“I had this office when I was appointed Ambassador, and I don’t want to get rid of it. I still have most of my personal things in here. It is my hideaway. Make yourself comfortable. I will only be a minute. Would you like a coffee or maybe a piece of chocolate?”

“No, thanks.” I had to smile because he kept pushing that chocolate on me.

I sat on the sofa. It was brown, thick leather with brass buttons and overly stuffed.

Fabrice was at a huge desk, leafing through papers and opening drawers.

“I do a lot of my writing in here, and sometimes I forget and leave half my things behind,” he said, shuffling papers.

“This is nice.” I didn’t know what else to say. I was somewhat uncomfortable. The office resembled his Embassy office only messier. I could tell by looking around that he spent a lot of time in there.

“I want to work this situation out, Isabella.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. He stood up, walked closer to me, and set his papers down.

“You and I both know there is something between us. We have been ignoring it now, and I’m starting to think of you a lot.”

Suddenly I became faint. His eyes narrowed and he became more serious.

“I’m going to be serious. I’m an Ambassador, and I have certain standards I must live up to. I have to behave in a certain upstanding way in public. My job puts me at the highest level of the ministry.”

He sat next to me. His leg brushed against mine. His expensive wool pants on my skin made me tingle. He narrowed his eyes and looked at me. He studied my face watching for a hint of emotion. I tried desperately to hide what I was feeling. I didn’t know what I was feeling- it was a sense of excitement, fear, happiness and lust all in one. I nervously fingered my pearl necklace.

“I’m going to be direct and to the point.” He was leaning on his legs with his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes, please.” I was beginning to wonder what he was trying to say.

“I want you. I want to date you, or whatever it is Americans call it. I want to be with you when I have free time.”

I didn’t know what to say. I was shocked and at the same time turned on.

“Want me?”

“You have intrigued me madly since I saw you at the gala. I can’t stop looking at you when you are near me. I want to undress you every time you walk into a meeting. I want to run my tongue across your body and taste you when I smell you in the building.”

I was both apprehensive and excited over what he said. Having thoughts of fucking him was different from actually doing it. This was my career I was fooling with. This was his career. There were rules and I didn’t want a scandal.

I stood up and walked across his office. I didn’t know what to say. I was at a loss for words. I stood in front of the window overlooking the outside. It was dreamlike. What I needed was to focus on something other than him.

“Fabrice, you’re a sexy man and when I’m near you I can’t think straight. But, we can’t do anything like this. We have to be professional. You could lose everything.”

He stood up and walked behind me.