The Ambassador and Me: an unlikely love story (The Ambassador Trilogy Book 1) (23 page)

“Morning, hot stuff.”

“Christ, what are you doing? How long have you watched me?” I sat up and she handed me a half-drunk cup of coffee. She was dressed and ready to hit the road.

“Get up and dressed. We are to be at the Piori compound in an hour.”

The thought of getting up and dressed drained me. I grabbed my phone and turned it on to see if Fabrice had texted. Nothing.

“You haven’t heard from him?” Avery asked.

“No.” I pulled the covers over my head.

“You will. You told him to leave you alone. That’s what he is doing.”

I did but I didn’t mean it. I wanted him to tell me to shut up and that nothing would keep him from me. I wanted him to take me back to Paris and tell me everything was going to be okay. I didn’t want him to ignore me.

“Want to go shopping after the sit down?” Avery asked, jumping up and looking at herself in my mirror. She was dressed for a cocktail party, not a breakfast.

“No. We will probably have to stay over. You know how long these things can take. And if they cook it will even be longer. I’m coming home and going to bed.” I had no interest in anything.

“Come on, Izz! What are you wearing this morning? I will get it out for you.”

“What I have on.” I didn’t care. I heard Avery going through my closet.

“Come on, girl. We need to get going.”

I moaned and tossed my legs over the side of the bed, and I made my way to the bathroom. I started the steamy, hot shower and I could not help but think about Fabrice getting in with me that night after our meeting in Paris. How nice it was to have him wash me and then carry me to bed. I missed him terribly.

Avery and I drove my car to my family home. She drove and I looked for Fabrice's car as we headed down the highway. It’s amazing how many black BMW’s were out there that I didn’t notice before. I tried to make myself better by enjoying the wonderful sunny day and the slowness of Avery’s driving. She took her driving lessons from an eighty year-old woman. I wanted to reach my foot over and step on the gas.

“Ave, is there some reason we are driving ten miles per hour?”

“I’m not going ten. I’m doing the speed limit. I don’t like tickets.” She looked over the steering wheel like it was some huge yacht she was trying to maneuver. I knew it was going to be a bad idea to have her drive.

Once we arrived, Avery fit right in, talking and eating. Her and Sophie went and tried on clothes. I stayed with Danny trying to talk to him. He wasn’t himself and it worried me.

Marco made mimosas and I drank one too many, as usual. My mom watched how much I drank, but she seemed to be having her fair share as well. Once brunch was over we were called into the living room and the beating of Anthony was the topic of conversation. My dad sat in the middle of the living room with his brother on one side and my mom on the other. Each one of them described what could have been done to Anthony, and Danny swore on my grandfather’s life he didn’t do anything to him.

“I swear. I went over there to do something to him and the cops were there.”

“Well, we can put this behind us and, I guess, hope he doesn’t die. Then we can get justice for what he did to Isabella the right way, with the police,” said my mom, looking at my brothers. She had each of us tell what we did that night so that if asked we would be prepared. My mom had visited Anthony’s parents the day prior to offer her words of encouragement to them. She also wanted to get a sense if they blamed her or her family for what happened to him. They gave her an update on Anthony’s condition and said he was improving slowly.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was later the next day when Avery and I made it back to the condo. After begging to drive home, Avery obliged. The wind was so fierce I didn’t know if I could keep the car on the road. Trash and limbs blew all over the highway making it a scary ride. A storm was brewing off in the distance, which I loved. Ever since I was a little girl I loved a good thunderstorm.

“Do you care if I go to Cherise's now?” Avery was pouring a glass of wine. We had stopped and bought a couple of bottles of our favorite pinot noir.

“What? Why would you ask me that? I don’t care.”

“I know this is upsetting to you.”

“No, I’m fine. I need to unwind and get a bath and catch up on some shows I haven’t watched in a while. You go and get flogged, I’m good. Tomorrow morning I’m going to start running again. I haven’t done that in a while. Plus, I love a good thunderstorm. I’m going to enjoy the thunder and lighting and sit in the tub.”

“You’re a weirdo, Izz. Isn’t water what you’re supposed to avoid in a thunderstorm?”

“Please, I’ve done it forever.”

“If you get scared or something happens, promise me you will call me. Please don’t turn your damn phone off. That annoys the shit out of me and everyone else.” Avery was drinking wine like crazy. She had the whole bottle gone in minutes.

“I will be fine. And I will call if I notice something strange or if I hear anything. I wonder why the detectives haven’t questioned us yet.” I smiled at her.

“Quit worrying about it. If they want to question us, let them. We have nothing to hide.”

She came up to me and gave me a hug. Avery was a hugger. I didn’t mind a hug from her. She kissed my cheek and grabbed some things out of her room and left. I was relieved to be alone. I locked the door, cheeked the sliding door on our porch and made sure the stick was in the runway. The lights flickered so I grabbed some candles out of the kitchen and a lighter in case.

I had email alerts on my phone that I had ignored while I drove. Flopping on the couch, I opened the first one up and noticed it was from someone I had not recognized. In front of me was a picture of Fabrice and Marin at the Vintage Formal event that went on the night prior. I remember asking Fabrice if he was going to attend and he insisted that he would not.

There were at least five pictures of them, arm in arm, smiling for the camera. She was wearing a short cream-colored dress, her hair in a chignon and she was looking beautiful. One was captioned “The ever-lovely socialite Marin Fisher and longtime love, Ambassador Fabrice Arbidoux, enjoyed a night at the Vintage Day Formal.”

I closed the email and was dizzy. We told each other how much we meant to one another. How could he do this? He out right lied that he wasn’t going. I opened up my email again and made a copy of the picture and sent it to Fabrice in a text with my own caption. “Have fun last night?” I'd had my fill of men at that moment. He knew how I felt about that redhead. I don’t understand why he lied. Maybe I didn’t know this man at all.

I threw my phone, walked into my bedroom, and ripped my clothes off leaving them scattered on the floor. I turned on the bath and filled it with scorching hot water and bubbles. Laying there, soaking in the hot water, brought to mind Fabrice and I in the bath in Paris. How safe and comfortable I was in his arms. How many other women has he given that same bullshit to? Obviously, he has Marin.

Who sent me those emails? Once Avery came back home I would ask her how we could find out. Whoever sent them was doing it to be mean and making sure I saw them. It had been three days since I talked to Fabrice. I was beyond angry with him. Fuck him. I don’t need this. I have been alone for three years- what’s a few more?

Getting out of the bath I grabbed my robe and headed for the bedroom. I turned on my cell phone to make sure my family hadn’t contacted me. A number I couldn’t recognize had called me eleven times. Who was it? My cell phone rang with that strange number on it again. I hesitated to answer it but, with everything going on, it could be the hospital calling. I reluctantly answered it and was shocked when I heard who it was on the other end.

“Isabella, don’t hang up.” It was Fabrice. The sound of his voice made me catch my breath.

“Fabrice. What the fuck? Don’t you have some formal to go to again tonight?”

“I’m outside your back door. Let me in.”

“Fuck you!”

I hit the button on my phone and hung up on him. I wasn’t about to let him in. I walked out of my room to the back sliding door I had checked prior to my bath. He started knocking on it and calling my name repeatedly. If I didn’t let him in the neighbors would call the police. My heart pounded and my entire body responded to the sight of him.

I removed the stick and unlocked the door. I wanted to beat him with it.

“You shouldn’t be here. Someone could have seen you and I don’t care to look at you.”

He wore jeans and a black shirt with a baseball hat and a black coat. He looked more like a model then an Ambassador.

“I can’t stand not being with you. I would rather be dead than be without you.”

“You should have thought about that last night! I bet you were fine at the formal without me.”

“It was last minute. You were gone to your parents. Jean asked me to go with him and his wife. I said okay. I wanted to call or text you, but you told me not to get in touch with you for a while. When I got there, Marin waited for me and jumped in front of the camera. I swear I didn’t go with her. Jean will vouch for me.”

“You think I’m going to believe you? I’m sure Jean will lie for you. You are his boss.”

“Isabella, don’t do this. I swear to you. At least it looks like I’m with her again and the press won’t say we’re together. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes, God forbid if anyone knew you were sleeping with me.”

“You are the one that has a problem with it. I don’t care who knows! You told me to stay away from you for a while. I honored your wishes.”

I had to distance myself from him and fast. I needed to get some air. He was right. I was the one telling him to stay away. I needed to go out and get a drink.

“I’m going out, alone. I need to get out of here for a while. I have had enough of you, Anthony, my parents, and this Marin. Not to mention, Celeste, whom we have yet to discuss.”

“Please, listen to me.”

“No, I won’t listen to you. Not now. I’m not going to be fucked over by some French bastard who thinks he can make it all go away with his love talk.”

“Don’t you understand what you mean to me?”

“No, I don’t. Not if I’m lied to, hidden away, and used as a sex toy.”

“Isabella, what? Have you lost your mind?” He tried to come closer to me and I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. I may have lost my mind.

“Leave me alone! Get out and go!” I held the door open for him and he looked at me and hesitated. He said nothing more and walked out the front door. I heard his car start and he was gone down the road.

I needed to get out of the condo. I had no idea where I was going to go. I called a cab and told him to take me to a bar. He drove me about two miles from the condo and I got out at a place called The Senators' Lounge. The place looked like a dive on the outside with a stream of motorcycles parked in front. Perfect.

The place was not too busy and a Senators' lounge it was not. Inside, the old, run down bar smelled of beer and cheap men’s cologne. The floor was sticky and two televisions were on at the bar overhead, one showing a car race, the other a baseball game. Three guys were playing pool and all of them stopped to look at me when I walked up to the bar.
Leave me the fuck alone
is what I wanted to say to them. If one of them came near me I would have laid them out. They had no idea what they would be messing with.

The bartender was an old guy with a white apron tied in front of him. I wanted to kill the cab driver. Of all the places around, he leaves me here. What the hell was he thinking? Oh well, I was there for a purpose. To get drunk and then go home and pass out.

“What can I get you?” he asked wiping his hands on his apron. I smelled limes.

“Vodka straight up over ice.”

“Rough day?” he asked.

“You could say that.” I was in no mood to talk to a damn person. I wanted to be left the fuck alone.

He laid a square napkin in front of me and poured the vodka over ice.

He slipped it in front of me and I thanked him. I drank the drink in about three sips. I cringed as the liquid burned my throat and chest going down.

I waved him over.

“Another one, please.” He poured. I drank. Thankfully, the guys kept playing pool and left me alone.

A weathered-out, bleached blonde with a short mini skirt, tube top, and scuffed high heels sat down at the bar. She ordered a whiskey sour, wobbled over to the jukebox, and played Kid Rock. The men laughed while they watched her and I almost felt the need to go and defend her. We were sisters, women against these idiot men. Men were such pigs. These fat fucks were laughing as they stood around a pool table with potbellies, Nascar shirts, and baseball hats. Who did they think they were? Who do any of these fucking men think they were? It’s fine that they can stalk you, fuck you, and fuck around on you and you are supposed to say: “Oh, it's fine.” Fuck them all.

After the fourth vodka, I wanted to tell Fabrice what a piece of shit he was. I was feeling quite vocal and it was a good time to let him know he wouldn’t touch my body again. I dialed that strange number he called me from. He answered before it finished ringing.

“Where are you?”

“None of your damn business. I’m calling to tell you we are done with this sex thing we have going on.” I was still in the bar and the haggard blonde sitting by me gave me thumbs up.