Is he talking about revolution? God, it would be chaos. The whole Family would fall apart. The Giordanos wouldn't stand for a Fabbri in the seat of power. Not the Romanos either. Maybe the others. The smaller families go with the flow and do what they're told, no matter who's leading, but it would be war.
I can't think about that now. It doesn't change my situation at all. Either way, I'm trapped by a psychotic Dario, who's taking me… taking me where? “So what's that mean? Where are we going?”
“I have a place. You'll be safe there, until we take the next step. How about a new house? We could get a nice place, in-ground pool, a garden for you to take care of, a bunch of bedrooms. Somewhere where we can start our new future. How's that sound, baby?” He flashes another smile before getting his attention back on the road. We're somewhere deep in Blackworth, I think.
“We don't have a future, Dario.”
“Cazzo, I wish you'd just relax. Think about how good this will be. I'm going to take care of you, you'll see.”
I know I shouldn't say it. I know, I know, but I can't hold it back. “You'll never be able to take care of me like they did. And you'll never have what they did. You're just mad, because I finally found some real men that you can't just send your goons to go break the legs of. You'll never be a tenth of the man that any one of them is.”
His hand lashes out before I can react, catching me over the mouth. It takes a moment before the sting registers, but then my whole face flares up. I lick my lips and taste the metallic flavor of blood. “Shut the fuck up. Don't talk like a whore. I was trying to be good here, but if you're going to throw that shit in my face, I can't be held fucking responsible…” He trails off, breathing hard. He's even more on edge than I realized. “But you know what? I'm gracious. I forgive you. I will always forgive you, because I know—deep in my heart—I know that no matter what, no matter what piece of shit biker fucking befouls you with his touch, you'll always be mine. I will always fucking love you, despite all your mistakes. That's why I've got to protect you, amore mio.”
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, trying to keep the tears from flowing. All his talk about love and devotion and fate and us being destined together—I never thought he'd actually hit me. Then again, he was willing to shoot me. What was I even thinking?
“I'm sorry,” I force through my aching lips. Anything to calm him down.
He lets out a sigh. “I'm sorry too, baby. You can't provoke me like that. There's a handkerchief in the glove compartment. Use that.”
If it's his, I don't want to touch it, but I do, and shove the handkerchief into the seat. Maybe if someone searches the car they can identify me from the blood.
We pull through massive iron gates, into a river harbor. Even these days, there are heavy barges cruising up and down the river, because sometimes it's cheaper and more efficient than flying and trucking. The Family has had its fingers in that pie for over a hundred years, at least. It's impossible to be a Giordano and not know something about it.
We pull up in front of a large warehouse, even bigger than the one they've built the Screaming Eagles clubhouse from. But where the clubhouse is kept in good shape, this one is worn and covered in rust.
The skies are dark gray, and as we get out, it begins to drizzle. It'll be daytime for a little while longer, but with this kind of weather, it might as well be evening. The warehouse looms over us, a menacing monolith against the stormy sky. A couple of Dario's men watch the front door, visibly armed with automatic rifles. They nod at Dario as he leads me through the front doors and into a massive complex that looks abandoned.
Nicholas, his second in command, is waiting for us. He glances at my face and frowns. “What the hell happened, Dario?”
“Nothing. She's fine. Everything set up here?”
Nicholas falls into step behind us, followed by a couple more of Dario's men. “Everything you said. But Dario, is this such a good idea? Papa—”
“Shut the fuck up about Papa.” Dario's sneer is twisted and ugly. “That old fuck doesn't understand what's best for the Family anymore. We're going to bring it into a new era.” Nicholas's flat expression doesn't reveal what he thinks about that, but his eyes are hard.
“What are we doing here?” I ask.
“I know, bella mia, this isn't the luxury I want for you. It's just a temporary home until I'm back in the Tower. This part isn't very impressive, but it's on purpose. Trust me.” He leads the way into a maze of metal shelves, worn down loading platforms, and metal stairs that look about as trustworthy as Dario. Luckily, he doesn't try to lead me up them, at least not until we're deeper in.