The Dancer and the Don | ✔️

Chapter 10

Sorry for such a late update! I didn't realize it had been that long since I'd written a chapter. A lot has happened, so thank you guys for waiting!

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Tony felt completely and utterly useless.

It was a new feeling to him and it was one that was definitely unwelcome. As a man who always had control of a situation, it unnerved him to know he wasn't in control of this circumstance at all.

Francesca was his world. She was all that mattered. She was in control of this situation.

Where had he gone wrong? All he had wanted to do was protect her from that part of the world. For years he had been able to keep his family a secret to her and he was able to keep her hidden from enemies.

That time was over, and in its place remained chaos. His men were taking care of the situation, but they couldn't fix this problem. Only he could.

Worry soon began to take over him. What would he do if she left? She was also known to not take care of herself in a panic, and he had no way to speak with her. She would never give him an honest answer now. Who could he call?

With dread filling his body, he realized her only real friends had been Nathan and himself. Was that his fault? Had he isolated her like she was saying?

The more he thought about it, the worse it got. They shared paychecks, they shared a home, and both of them had nowhere to go except each other's arms.

After a hard, stressful day like these past few had been, he would unwind by simply being around his wife in any way. Tony could already feel knots forming in his back. He gave up on his dinner and stormed to the security office he'd installed when the house had been built. Tate sat in front of several monitors, eyes alert.

"Sir," Tate nodded and stood as Tony entered.

"Who were the two girls killed?"

"Maggie Combs and Tracy Frasier, Sir."

"Pay for their funerals and any other expense their families should need," he ordered, swiping a hand across his face. "Make it anonymous, please."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Pay for the damages done to the theater as well. Please let me know when it's been done."

"Will do, sir."

"Thank you, Tate." He'd only just eaten dinner, but Tony was already finding himself exhausted. He was very worried about his wife tonight, and wondered if he would get any sleep anyway. Though he was tired, his brain would most likely be keeping him up all night.

Tony heard Tate sit back in his chair and begin typing as he turned to leave the small room.

"Ow!" He heard once he'd pushed the door open. Francesca came around from behind the door, and he fought to keep a frown off is face. It was a battle he lost.

"You could have just asked, Francesca. I would have told you what we were talking about. Or you could have just come in and listened."

"Like you'd be honest," Fran scoffed, rubbing her head with a wince. "And that's a room I wasn't allowed in, remember? God, all of this was going on in my own house. How did I not see it?"

"Well, now that you know you're more than welcome to ask any questions, listen to any conversations, and go in any rooms you'd like." Tony just wanted a hug at this point.