The Dancer and the Don | ✔️

Chapter 8

I hope you guys like this one! I'm really excited about where this story is going. 

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It was completely silent when Fran awoke. This was nothing new, but today felt eerie.

She was terrified. Why?

The memory came rushing back to her as she tried to sit up, then looked at her arm with a slight yelp. It was properly bandaged, but there was a bit of blood seeping through. Why was it so painful? Had a bullet actually entered her arm?

She managed to push through the pain a few minutes later and sat up. Tony wasn't here. What time was it? Her eyes widened as she looked at the clock. She was late for practice! Vira would kill her.

Somehow Fran was able to pull on her sweatpants then a hoodie. As if this day couldn't get any worse, her favorite hoodie was gone from its usual place. She always remembered to put it back after washing it, so that meant someone else had taken it.

Her phone was missing too, but she assumed Nathan had it and headed towards the kitchen for breakfast.

"Mrs. Romano! What are you doing up?" Maran said loudly, causing Fran to jump. Her eyes narrowed.

"Why are you standing outside my door?" The only one allowed in the house was Nathan. That was the compromise she had made with her husband.

"Mr. Romano's orders. I think you should go lie back down, Mrs. Romano." He seemed very nervous and unsure.

"I'm late for practice," she scoffed, brushing past him, "is breakfast ready?"

"Mrs. Romano, I can't—"

"Enough!" She yelled. What was going on around here? "I got shot yesterday, Maran, so unless you want to be the one to give me the explanation as to why I suggest you move."

It worked. After a few seconds of deliberation he moved out of her way. She scowled when he followed her down the stairs.

"Nathan?" She shouted. The man in question came jogging down the hall to meet her at the bottom of the stairs, his face contorted in irritation.

"Maran was supposed to keep you upstairs," he said angrily. She huffed.

"What happened last night? Where's Tony?" Nathan avoided her questions and continued to direct his glare at Maran.

"Would you like breakfast?" He asked after he finally made eye contact with her.

"Isn't it ready? I'm late for practice, usually it's made when I get down here." Her question went unanswered except for the confused glances they gave her.

"Mrs. Romano, it's been—"

"Forget it," she muttered. "I'll make it myself."

She began to step away but was tugged back by Nathan. She yelped and held her injured arm, glaring at him.

"I am so sorry, Mrs. Romano, but there is no practice today. It's been cancelled because of the shooting last night."

"So it was a shooting?" Nathan and Maran shared a confused glance.

"Yes, Mrs. Romano. How much do you remember?"

"I remember plenty, thank you," she scowled, "I just wasn't exactly sure what it was."

"Mr. Romano will be finished momentarily, Mrs. Romano. May I show you to the living room while I cook breakfast?" Why was everyone avoiding explanations? She knew one person who would tell her the truth like always.