SORRY EX-HUSBAND, I AM NEVER COMING BACK

CHAPTER 17 - NO CONTROL

NATALIA

"What the f**k were you trying to do, you damn creep!" I lashed out at him.

I tried to rise up from the bed and it was then I felt the pull at my wrist.

I looked down and saw that our bracelets were tangled together. I tried to pull away but it refused to come apart.

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered out loud.

I yanked again, twisting my wrist to try to find an angle that would loosen the bracelets but nothing seemed to be working.

I was now tied down to the man I had just slapped across the face and I was definitely not comfortable in that position.

I noticed that he was still staring intently at me and before I could process what was happening, his hand closed around both of my wrists and he pressed them back against the mattress.

I lay there with my wrists pinned and my heart hammering so loud I could hear it. He held my wrists with one hand and with the other, he reached for his bracelet.

And then he snapped it.

He straightened up immediately, releasing my wrists, and without a single word he turned and walked out of the room.

I tried to say something but the words didn't come out. So, I lay back down, pulled the blanket up and stared at the ceiling.

Just then, something clicked in my head. The camera!

I had set it up before I went to sleep, propping my phone at an angle on the nightstand with the camera running, pointed at the room. I had done it so efficiently while Wesley was still on the balcony. If he tried anything, I would have evidence. I would have everything I needed to call the police, his lawyers and the board of his company for them to know about the kind of man Wesley Brooks actually was.

I sat up and opened the footage. I found the timestamp from a few minutes ago and pressed play.

The room was dark in the recording but the light from the window was enough to make out the shapes of things. I watched myself sleeping, the blanket gradually working its way down as I shifted without knowing it. I watched the balcony door open. I watched Wesley step in and stand very still for a long moment, just inside the door.

I watched him walk to the bed, reach down and pick up the fallen blanket, before using it to cover me.

Almost immediately, I felt a pange of guilt. I had slapped him for covering me with a blanket.

The thought sat there in my head and I turned onto my side, clearly uncomfortable. After the next few minutes of self blames, I finally closed my eyes and went to sleep.

The next morning, I was dressed and ready before eight. I looked at the first item on the list and pressed my lips together.

"Massage at a wellness facility near the Seine, followed by a walking tour along the river."

Of course.

My father's fingerprints were all over this itinerary and as much as I hated to go on with the plan, I had no choice.

I stepped outside onto the path along the River Seine and just then, I spotted Wesley. He stood about two hundred meters ahead, at the edge of the path near one of the old bridges, looking out at the water with his notebook open. As I watched, he wrote something, looked back at the view and wrote something else. Then he turned and began walking further along the path, stopping at intervals to make more notes, occasionally photographing something with his phone.

I stayed back and watched.

I was doing it for work, I told myself. It was reasonable to observe how your business partner operated in the field. It was professional due diligence.

It was only when realized I had been following him for about ten minutes, that I stopped walking.

My heart was pounding in my chest again. I had no control over the effect he was having over me and it was beginning to scare me.