My Sweet Isabella (The Ambassador Trilogy #3) Read Free

don’t know exactly. I’ve been more worried about you.” She was lying to me. I could tell by the tone in her voice that she knew.
    “Tell me, Isabella.” I was so weak and in so much pain, to speak was a struggle.
    She closed her eyes and whispered. “Ten people were killed and eight injured in the coffee shop.” Oh my God. I shut my eyes and turned my head away from her. Those fucking cowards killed innocent people to get to me.
    “I need to know if the boy was killed. I need to find out where he is.”
    “I will ask Gustan and have him find out. Please rest, Fabrice. You have to rest.”
    How could I rest knowing what happened because of me. “Are those bastards dead?”
    “Yes, there were two of them and Gustan killed them both. Fabrice, I could have lost you. You could have been one of the ten. You could have died. You were supposed to have been killed. If it weren’t for Gustan, you wouldn’t be here.” She laid her head on my chest and cried. Her tears were warm as they trickled down onto my hospital gown. With determination, I was able to finally lift my arm and caress her head. I brought a few strands of her hair to my nose and breathed in the scent of her shampoo.
    “You promised me you weren’t in danger. I believed you. You knew didn’t you?” She looked up at me, and her gaze bore in to me. In my fog, I couldn’t read her. I felt her body tense with anger towards me.
    “I didn’t want to worry you, Isabella. You don’t need to worry about me.” She touched my face, and her gaze stayed on me.
    “I do need to worry about you. I love you, Fabrice.”
    “I need to get back to work. I want to get out of here.”
    “You will. Everyone has been here to see you. You are the top news story on every news network here and in America. The press has been camped out for three days in front of the hospital. Jean and his wife, General Morou, and the President, called to make sure you were okay. Your Prime Minister stopped by last night, and the French President also called. Your mom and dad have not left the hospital. They are outside in the waiting room. Your mom has been a mess since this happened.”
    “I love you,” I whispered. Fuck, even with mascara smudged and swollen eyes, she was so beautiful. Maybe even more beautiful then she had ever been before. Her familiar aura and sweet scent made me feel at home. She was my home.
    Her eyes locked onto mine and she began to cry again. “I love you more than anything.”
    “Don’t cry.” My fingers felt big and swollen, but I managed to stroke her face and brush the tears away.
    “I’m so relieved you’re alive, Fabrice. I wouldn’t be able to make it, if you died.” I wish I shared in her happiness. I was still pissed off I had been shot and now in this damn hospital when I should be working trying to stop this type of shit from happening.
    I noticed something in her hand.
    “What’s this?” I nodded towards her hands.
    “Your rosary. I didn’t have mine with me, so your mom gave me yours. I prayed so hard. I even prayed to St. Anthony for a miracle, and he always comes through for me.”
    “He listened. Thank you. Kiss me,” I murmured.
    She didn’t hesitate, and her lips touched mine ever so slightly. My lips were dry and cracked and hers so wet and warm. I wanted to melt into her. Nothing tasted better. She was all I needed to keep me alive. She was everything and so much more.
    ~~~~~~~~~~~
    That afternoon I had more visitors then I cared about. My parents, Isabella, and Gustan were the few people I wanted to see. That wasn’t the case with the rest. When the team of physicians felt I was alert enough to answer questions, authorities came in to get more information on what happened. I wasn’t sure the exact details. As I tried to recall those few minutes, some of the faces flashed through my mind, the screams, and the splattering of blood on the walls. I looked towards the window as my stomach clenched at the thought of what