The Dancer and the Don | ✔️

Chapter 2

"Mrs. Romano? Mrs. Romano, you've slept through your alarms," a voice said from outside the bedroom door. Fran's eyes opened a little, then widened in surprise. Tony was long gone, usually leaving for work around 6:30 in the morning. On performance days, she left at ten.

She'd set seven alarms, how had she slept through them all?

She'll never be able to get up on her own.

"Thank you, Nathan," Fran said and listened for his footsteps to leave before sitting up in bed. Tony had many, many people working for him. When he wasn't in the house someone was, and it was usually Nathan.

Nathan Kim was in his mid-to-late forties and had been working for her husband for as long as she could think of. She didn't know specifics, but he was hired before Tony and Fran met.

A few mornings usually went like today, she was so tired she slept through all of her alarms and Nathan was to make sure she was awake on time to get to the venue. As she looked at the clock she felt relief flow through her—she still had plenty of time to eat and get ready.

Typically Fran would make her own breakfast, then head to practice for most of the day before coming home and making her own dinner. Usually she would try and wait up on Tony, but depending on the day she was either asleep or awake at two or three in the morning to meet him.

On performance days, when Francesca went downstairs (typically still in her pajamas), a heart breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, fruit, and some hash browns or sausages waiting for her. Nathan was a very talented chef.

Today was a day she didn't bother changing out of her pajamas before heading downstairs. She tried—and failed—to rub the sleep out of her eyes, and started to think maybe she should've listened to Tony last night.

"Thanks again," she murmured to Nathan as she sat down, still rubbing her eye, and used her other hand to grab the fork. He responded with a quiet nod and continued scrolling on his phone. She ate quickly even though she had time... it was something she'd done since she was young, when her family—

That wasn't important.

Not today. Today was performance day.

She licked her fingers once she'd finished her bacon, then stood and placed her place in the sink. Fran took her time going back upstairs. She didn't have to do much to actually drive to the theater, but it still required effort. Effort was something she didn't want to use today.

Sluggishly, she grabbed some sweatpants and her favorite black zip-up sweatshirt before stomping into the bathroom. This was all Tony's fault, she tried to tell herself, but it was impossible to lie.

She was the one who had dragged Tony back to bed after a shower, and now she was paying the consequences. Damn, she hated showering in the morning.

A few minutes later she got out with a scowl on her face, throwing on her clothes and storming out of the bathroom. She didn't even bother to dry her hair as she grabbed her phone, wallet, keys, and a condom before leaving.

Tony was her reward after every show, and if she forgot a condom she would have to wait until after they were home. That wouldn't be happening tonight.

In the two years they'd been married, he had never missed a show. Though sometimes he did cut it a little close by being late, he hadn't missed one. It was one of the reasons she fell in love with him. He took her and her goals seriously, and didn't just let her stand alone. He exemplified her hopes and dreams, and that was all she could have ever asked for.

"Holly's gonna be pissed," Nathan sang lightly, eyes amused at the state Francesca was in. Her stylist, Holly, was a birthday present after Fran and Tony had gotten married. No, Tony hadn't gifted her a person, but rather her own personal stylist whereas other members of the New York Roses had share six stylists paid by the company.