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“I’m fucking serious,” he gritted out. “Unless you want me to get your husband to punish you for disrespecting me like this, you better get on your knees right now.”
He was serious. Jesus, he was completely serious. His face was strained with fury. His fists were clenched at his sides. The tendons of his neck were taut, the muscle in his jaw ticking away. Shock overtook me. I shook my head vigorously. I didn’t want this. I’d never condone punishing a woman for speaking her mind. This was about saving face after insulting a Lupu, but there were deeper currents of abuse. I didn’t want to be part of this. I definitely didn’t want Ioana on her knees in front of me. If anything, I wanted to help this woman.
Ioana’s eyes ticked away from his, flew back, and found the same rageful expression on his face. Her chin dropped, her face was wiped of indignant rage and replaced with agony. My heart cracked for her. She realized she’d gone too far. With his reputation as the imposer of rules, she must have thought she could shame him into repudiating me.
To my horror, she turned to me and slowly got down on her knees. The sound of her patent leather heels scraping the tiles of the floor echoed throughout the café. The swish-swish of her dress was deafening as she settled in front of me. I shook my head in denial, but she stared up at me, hatred and pain swirling in her deep brown eyes. And all I wanted to do was hug her and take her pain away.
I put my hand on her shoulder, about to tell her to stand up, but she shrugged it off brusquely as if my pity only insulted her further, so I retracted my hand and just…waited. The tension in the restaurant was tangible. Everyone had their eyes on us. How could they not? This would ripple through the ranks of mafie circles, and there was nothing I could do about it. It had little to do with me, but unfortunately, that didn’t make it any less painful to witness.
“I apologize for insulting you—” She fluttered her hand at me impatiently, requesting my name.
“Jewel,” I supplied.
She was like an injured animal trying to gnaw its paw off to escape the clutches of a steel trap. I admired this woman, and if anything, I wanted to fix her. Whatever had happened to her, and I suspected it had to do with her husband, was unfair. She was without options. Her pain was real. Her intelligence palpable. Her rage beyond reproach.
Voice ringing loud and true, she declared, “Jewel. I apologize for calling you a whore and a slut.”
My stomach churned. It was agonizing, watching her brave stubbornness in what was obviously a bad domestic situation. I nodded numbly.
“Do you accept her apology?” Nicu intoned.
My gaze flew up to his. He wanted to hear it. A little away from us, her poor sister wrung her hands together in distress. I couldn’t allow this to go on.
Placing my hand on top of Ioana’s clammy ones, I said, “There’s nothing to forgive. You don’t know me, so those words have no meaning to me. I wasn’t insulted. You were only being loyal and taking care of your community, but I assure you, I will do whatever is necessary to follow your customs.”
“You can’t make yourself Romanian, but you shouldn’t worry too much.” A sad, wry smile drifted over her mouth. “Being Romanian is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“No, I can’t, but I’m willing to show my respect for what every other woman has to go through.”
She inhaled sharply. “Be thankful that’s not your fate,” she murmured. “Give thanks every fucking day of your life. Nicu is a good man. You’re lucky to have him.”
Pushing my chair back, I stood up and put out a hand. After weighing her options, Ioana placed her hand gently in mine and allowed me to help her up to her feet. The instant we let go, her sister threw her arms around her and dragged her away, saying something quickly to Nicu, probably apologizing and begging him to not punish her further, as he had threatened.
Her sister propelled them out of the café. Staring after them, I watched as her sister shook her head, reprimanding Ioana, as they turned the corner. Then they were gone.
I turned my gaze on Nicu. “Don’t hurt her.”
“She apologized. I won’t need to,” he assured me.
Taking my hand, he brought me into his chest. “Jesus, sorry about that. Ioana has always been…spirited, and her life isn’t easy. But there’s no justification for what she did.”
“Of course there is,” I replied. “She’s obviously suffering. Whatever happens, Nicu, you have to promise me you won’t hurt her or allow her husband to hurt her.”
He caressed my hair. “You’re so fucking sweet it makes me ache.”
I shook my head. “I’m not. Promise me.”
“I promise,” he answered immediately. “I won’t allow her to come to harm. I’m sure her husband will hear of this, but I will speak to him. He won’t go against a direct order from me.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “Okay.” Ioana’s haunted eyes came back to me. “Okay,” I repeated. If I ever became part of this society, even marginally, I was going to fight to save these women. Change was the only thing that would make this situation okay.
