SORRY EX-HUSBAND, I AM NEVER COMING BACK

CHAPTER 7 - EX HUSBAND, NEW CLEANER

NATALIA

The door clicked shut behind him and I stood there for a moment, staring at the space he had just occupied.

His words echoed in my head.

"Legally, you are still my wife."

The audacity of that man. The sheer, breathtaking audacity!

Less than an hour ago, he had grabbed my arm and dragged me through that same hallway like I was an intruder. He had stood there with Ciara pressed against him and called me pathetic. He had looked me dead in the eyes with that smug curl on his lips and told me to move on with my life.

And now he wanted a second chance!

I sighed as the thought of everything ran through my head.

How had I let this happen? How had I looked at a man like Robert Brooks and decided that he was worth giving my heart to?

I had been so blinded by what I thought was love that I had ignored every warning sign.

In a fit of uncontrolled rage, I picked up the cup of coffee on my table and hurled it towards the door.

And in that exact moment, the door slid open.

My stomach dropped as I watched the cup of coffee fly in the air and land straight at Wesley who was about stepping into my office.

My hand flew to my mouth.

"Oh my goodness." I was already moving around the desk before I had finished the sentence. "I am so sorry, I didn't know you were about to — I wasn't aiming for — "

"I figured," he said, looking down at his stained shirt.

"Come here, let me clean you up— " I grabbed a box of tissues from the desk and rushed toward him, pressing them against the wet fabric. It was doing absolutely nothing but I couldn't stop myself. I kept dabbing at his shirt, muttering apologies, and he stood very still and let me, which somehow made it worse.

"It's fine," he said.

"It's not fine, your shirt is completely ruined and it's entirely my fault — "

"Natalia."

Something about the way he said my name made me pause.

I looked up and I saw that his eyes were fixed on me. My hands were pressed against his chest and the moment I realized, I disentangled from him.

I pulled my hands free and cleared my throat.

"Sorry," I said again. "What were you coming in for?"

Wesley studied me for a while, then reached into the folder tucked under his arm and held it out toward me.

"I have a proposal," he said. "I think there's an opportunity for us to work together. Our companies have overlapping interests in a few key areas and I've been looking at some figures that I think you'll find worth your time."

I took the folder from him and set it on the desk without opening it.

"I'll look through it," I said. "Give me a few days to review everything and we can set up a proper meeting."

Wesley nodded slowly. He glanced once at the coffee-stained tissue on the edge of my desk and then back at me.

"Are you alright?"

"Perfectly fine," I said, perhaps a little too quickly.

He didn't push it. He simply nodded again, and walked back out, pulling the door shut softly behind him.

The moment he was gone, I exhaled.

I gathered my bag, and walked out of Diamond with my head held high and my thoughts in complete disarray.

I had planned to use the time to decompress, to mentally file away everything that had happened and begin thinking clearly about the next steps for the company. There was a lot of work to do. Diamond needed a thorough audit, a restructured leadership team, and a communication strategy to manage the optics of the sudden CEO change.

I had a list forming in my head and I was almost grateful for it because it gave me something solid to hold onto.

But then Wesley's face drifted into my mind, and my carefully organized list went like that.

I shook my head and looked out of the window at the passing traffic.

He was Robert's brother. And beyond that, he was a man. And men, as I had recently been reminded in the most painful way possible, were not to be trusted. It didn't matter that he had stepped in when Robert grabbed my arm. It didn't matter that he had offered to help me find another job before he knew who I was. It didn't matter that he had stood in my office with cold coffee soaking through his shirt and looked at me like that.

It meant nothing.

Robert had also once looked at me like I was the only person in the world. Robert had also once been kind and attentive and full of gestures that felt like love.

But that same Robert had handed me divorce papers on my birthday without blinking.

I was still thinking about Robert's betrayal when the cab pulled through the gates of the Carson estate and rolled to a stop in front of the house.

I stepped out, and pushed open the front door.

And then I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw Robert standing in our living room.

He was on his knees on the floor, his head slightly bowed, facing my father who sat in the high backed armchair across from him.

"Dad — " I started.

"Sit down, Natalia," my father said, without looking at me.

His eyes were fixed on Robert.

"I am calling the police," I said flatly.

"You will do no such thing," my father replied. "Sit down."

Robert looked up at me and sighed.

"Natalia, please," he started. "I just need you to hear me out. I know I hurt you and I know I don't deserve another chance but I'm asking anyway. I'll do anything. Anything at all. Just don't give up on us."

I stared at him on the floor of my father's house and felt nothing but exhaustion.

My father leaned forward in his chair, and looked at Robert for a long moment.

"Anything?" he repeated.

Robert nodded eagerly. "Anything, sir. Name it."

"Alright," my father said, and the small smile that crossed his lips made me suddenly very grateful I was not Robert. "Since you're so willing, how about you work here for me?"

Robert's face was filled with visible relief. He straightened up slightly, his shoulders dropping.

"Of course," he said quickly. "I could be your personal assistant. Or Natalia's, if she'd prefer. I'll handle whatever you need, correspondence, scheduling, anything — "

My father held up one hand to stop him.

Then he turned slowly and pointed across the room.

I followed his finger. In the corner near the door, propped against the wall was a duster and a mopping stick.

"Since you're willing to do anything," he said, "you can start from cleaning up the house!"