12. Ursula
— ? —
Ursula
The Orchid Gala is tonight, and I have exactly six hours to prepare for war.
The dress is being altered. The jewelry is selected. My hair appointment is at four. Everything is planned, organized, controlled. The ice queen does not leave things to chance.
But first, I need to pick up my mother’s ring from the jeweler.
I’ve been meaning to have it resized for months. It’s slightly too big, always has been, and I’ve been afraid of losing it ever since I reclaimed it from my closet floor. The jeweler on 57th has had it for a week, and today is the day.
Matteo wanted to come with me. He’s been practically glued to my side since the lighthouse, since the shower, since the words we said to each other that neither of us has had the courage to repeat.
“I’ll be fine,” I told him this morning. “It’s two blocks. Broad daylight. What could happen?”
He looked at me like he wanted to argue but knew better. “Call me when you’re done.”
“I’m not a child who needs checking on.”
“No.” He kissed me, slow and thorough, until I could barely remember why I needed to leave at all. “You’re a woman who has enemies. There’s a difference.”
***
I’m thinking about that kiss as I walk up 57th Street. Thinking about his hands in my hair, his mouth on my neck, the way he says my name like it’s a prayer. I’m so distracted by thinking that I almost miss the shadow stepping out of the alley ahead.
Almost.
Bennett.
He looks wrong. That’s my first thought. Not the polished executive who attends board meetings and charity galas. This Bennett is wild-eyed, unshaven, his suit wrinkled like he slept in it. There’s something desperate in his face, something unhinged.
“We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” I try to step around him. He blocks my path.
“You’re ruining me.” His voice is low and controlled, but there’s a tremor underneath. “Do you understand that? The ships, my name, my reputation. Everything I’ve worked for my entire life.”
“You ruined yourself, Bennett. All I did was stop pretending.”
“Bullshit.” He grabs my arm, yanks me into the alley between buildings. My back hits the brick wall before I can react, and suddenly we’re out of sight of the street, hidden in shadow.
“Let go of me.”
“Or what? You’ll scream? Call your new boyfriend?” His laugh is ugly, broken. “He can’t protect you forever, Ursula. Sooner or later, you’ll be alone. And when you are...”
“You’ll what? Hit me? Kill me?” I keep my voice steady even though my heart is pounding. The ice queen does not show fear. “Go ahead, Bennett. Add assault to your list of accomplishments. I’m sure that will help your reputation.”
His grip tightens on my arm. His face is inches from mine, and I can smell whiskey on his breath, stale and sour. He’s been drinking. Maybe for hours. Maybe for days.
“You were supposed to be grateful.” His voice cracks. “I gave you everything. My name, my money, my life. And this is how you repay me?”
“You gave me nothing. You took. For thirteen years, you took and took and took, and I let you because I loved you. Because I actually, genuinely loved you, even though you never loved me back.”
“I never asked for your love.”
“No.” I feel something harden inside me, cold and sharp. “You just accepted it. Used it. Let me think we were building something together while you were building something with her. Do you have any idea how that feels? To give someone everything you have and discover it meant nothing?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about. I know you’ve been sleeping with Renata since before our wedding. I know you planned to divorce me eventually, once you’d secured my family’s shipping routes. I know everything, Bennett. And I’m done.”
His hand comes up. For a moment, I think he’s going to hit me. I brace for it, prepare to scream, to fight, to do whatever it takes to get away.
But he doesn’t hit me. Instead, his hand closes around my throat.
And this time he squeezes.
He does it with a terrible, deliberate control, never hard enough to leave the kind of mark a lawyer could photograph, and that restraint is the most frightening part, because it means some cold sober piece of him is still doing math even now.
My air cuts to a thread. The alley tilts.
My hands fly up to his wrist on instinct, clawing, and he doesn’t even seem to feel it.
He watches my face while I struggle like he’s reading a gauge, like he’s curious what I look like when the ice finally cracks into terror, and God help me, it does, my whole body flooding with an animal panic I have not felt since I was a child.
He holds me there for three seconds. Four. Long enough for me to understand, in a place beneath thought, that Bennett Rothwell could kill me in this alley and be home for dinner, and that some part of him is enjoying finding that out.
Then he loosens his grip, just enough to let me drag in one whistling breath, and leans close, his lips almost at my ear.
“You think you’ve won,” he whispers, conversational now, almost gentle, which is so much worse.
“You think taking Salazar to that gala, parading around in your little red dress, means you’ve won.
But you haven’t. I’m still Bennett Rothwell.
I still have friends. I still have power.
And there is no version of this where I let you walk away laughing.
When this is over, when the divorce is final and you’re nothing but a footnote, I’m going to make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of cold, frigid bitch you really are. If they remember you at all.”
His thumb strokes once over my pulse, feeling it hammer, and he smiles at what he feels.
“Let. Go.” I get the words out around the pressure, barely.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll scream so loud every person on 57th Street will hear me.
And then I’ll tell them exactly what happened.
And then my lawyer will add this to the already considerable pile of evidence against you.
” I meet his eyes, and I let him see the ice, the frost that has protected me for decades.
“Your choice, Bennett. Make it a good one.”
For a long moment, neither of us moves. His hand is still on my throat, and I’m still pressed against the wall, and I can feel the violence coiled in him, wanting to be released.
Then he steps back.
“You think this is finished?” His voice cracks, and I can’t tell anymore if it’s rage or fear underneath it. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
“I already have plenty of regrets. You’re not special enough to be one of them.”
He turns and walks away. I watch him go, watch him disappear around the corner, watch until I’m sure he’s not coming back.
Then my legs give out.
I catch myself against the wall, slide down until I’m sitting on the dirty alley floor in my designer dress, and I can’t breathe. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. A few tears escape before I can stop them, tracking down my cheeks, ruining the makeup I spent an hour applying.
Somehow I thought I was strong. I thought I could handle him. I thought the ice queen didn’t feel fear.
I was wrong.
My phone is in my purse. I fumble for it, my fingers clumsy, and somehow manage to find Matteo’s number.
“Ursula? Are you done at the jeweler?”
“Midtown.” My voice breaks. “Corner of 57th and... I don’t know. An alley. Bennett was here. He...”
“I’m coming. Don’t move. I’m coming.”
The line goes dead.
I sit in that alley for twelve minutes. Twelve minutes of trying to breathe, trying to stop shaking, trying to put the ice queen back together before anyone sees her in pieces.
Then Matteo rounds the corner, and I see his face change when he sees mine.
“What happened?”
“He grabbed me. Pulled me in here. He put his hand on my throat and he squeezed.” I’m crying now, can’t stop, the tears coming faster than I can wipe them away. “Not enough to leave a mark. He was careful about that. Just enough to show me he could. Just enough to watch me be afraid.”
Matteo drops to his knees beside me. His arms go around me, pulling me close, and I bury my face in his chest and shake.
“I’m going to kill him.” His voice is calm, conversational, terrifying. “I’m going to find him and I’m going to kill him.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Matteo.” I pull back, look at his face. He’s pale with rage, his jaw so tight I can see the muscle jumping. “He’s not worth it. He’s not worth you going to prison. He’s not worth anything.”
“He hurt you.”
“He scared me. There’s a difference.” I wipe my eyes, try to breathe. “If you kill him, he wins. If you go to prison, he wins. The only way to beat him is to show up tonight, looking perfect, on your arm, and let him watch us be happy while his whole world crumbles.”
“We don’t have to go.” His hands cup my face, gentle despite the rage still simmering in his eyes. “We can skip the gala. Stay home. You’ve been through enough.”
“If I don’t go, everyone will wonder why.
If I don’t go, Renata wins. If I don’t go, I let him take one more thing from me, and I’m done letting him take things.
” I take a breath. Straighten my spine. Feel the ice queen reassembling herself, piece by piece.
“I’m going to that gala. I’m going to look untouchable.
And I’m going to watch Bennett Rothwell realize that he can threaten me, corner me, put his hand on my throat, and I will still show up.
I will still be standing. I will still win. ”
Matteo stares at me for a long moment. Then he laughs, quiet and disbelieving.
“You’re remarkable. You know that? You’re the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met.”
“I’m a mess. Look at me.”
“I am looking at you.” He pulls me to my feet, brushes the dirt from my dress, wipes the last of the tears from my cheeks. “I see a woman who was just assaulted by her husband and is already planning how to destroy him. I see a woman who refuses to be broken. I see...”
“Stop.” I press a finger to his lips. “Stop before I start crying again.”
He kisses my finger. Then my palm. Then my wrist, where the bruises from the gala have finally faded but where new ones are probably already forming.
“We’re going to the gala,” he says.
“Yes.”
“And I’m not leaving your side for a single second.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
“And if Bennett comes anywhere near you, I’m going to break every bone in his body and let the lawyers sort it out later.”
“Fair enough.”
He wraps his arm around me and leads me out of the alley, back into the sunlight, back into the world where I have to be the ice queen again.
But for just a moment, pressed against his side, I let myself be something else.
I let myself be someone who is loved.