Amo Age 17 Greta Age 12
No one ever thought peace between the New York Famiglia and the Las Vegas Camorra would last this long. Yet here they were, another year has come and gone with the two families not only peaceful but with more of a working relationship than anyone ever thought could be possible. Amo couldn't remember a time in his life when the Camorra was ever a true threat. Yes, he had been told over and over again that peace never lasts, but with the Bratva being at odds with everyone and the MCs growing rapidly, fighting with their sorta allies didn't make sense. He stretched his arms as his muscles once again felt restless from the long flight. Amo hated to fly. He wanted to be in control of the vehicle and flying took that option away from him.
"Why are there sunflowers in the restroom?" Matteo growled out as he returned to his seat near his nephew.
"Guilia," Amo responded as if that should explain everything, "Dad let Cassio and her use the plane last week."
"That woman is an odd one." His uncle replied.
"Don't let Cassio hear you say that. He may be old, but he is still in top shape." Amo said as he flipped through documents he had been reviewing for the Sphere. The night club was one of his biggest responsibilities.
"Hey! Watch what you say, kid, he's only six years older than me." Amo's uncle retorted. "And I could beat his ass if I wanted too."
He was grateful it was at least his uncle with him on this trip to bargain with Falcone about street racing. He wasn't that interested in cars. Regardless, he was going to use his time in Vegas to his advantage. The twins would be 12 by now. He planned to watch Nevio like a hawk. Look for any signs of future weakness, watch how he behaved around the Vitiellos, and keep track of his mannerisms. They would both be Capo someday and Amo had the advantage of not only being older but being able to watch his future rival grow up. Knowing how Nevio behaves as a child will foreshadow how he'll act like an adult. And then there was Greta. Had she gotten over her stupid childish crush yet? He hoped he wouldn't have to deal with her ridiculous dancing requests again. It had taken quite a while before he forgave Marci for dragging him over to dance with that child all those years ago. It took weeks of him punching anyone who so much as mentioned the "precious royal couple" before the comments stopped being made so loud. Rumors were still flying around, no one would say them to his face though. While he didn't know for sure, he was pretty confident it was his sister who started them. He was a man and Greta was merely an annoying child. Why would he wait for a child when he could have whoever he wanted now.
"Glad to see you all arrived in one piece." Fabiano greeted the pair after their plane had landed. Amo accepted the handshake from his mother's brother while scanning the area. As future capo, he could never let his guard down. "Come back to the mansion and we can talk about expanding our street races. Adamo has been so excited about this meeting."
It was a testament to how far their relations had come that Matteo and Amo were allowed into the Falcone home. Fabiano had offered to host them in his house, but Adamo had insisted it would be too much for him to have to bring over. Adamo had everything so well planned out. When they got to the mansion, Matteo and Fabiano went to the living room to speak to Adamo and Nino, another one of the Falcone brothers. Meanwhile, Amo went in search of the bathroom.
When he was finished, Amo wandered down the corridor. It was quiet in this mansion, so maybe that was why the soft ring of music drew him towards the sound. He peeked through the crack on the door and saw a girl dancing. Her movements were like art, so graceful and determined. He couldn't help but watch in awe. When the music ended the girl sat on a bench, her face was now visible to him and he could see it was Greta. She had grown up, she was taller and thinner, her face still had a bit of baby in it, but it was almost gone. She was actually quite pretty for her age, he assumed she must be twelve or thirteen.
She took her shoes off wincing ever so slightly. Amo looked closer and noticed the bandages were red. Blood. Amo couldn't believe what he was seeing. They must torture her or abuse her. Concerned, he stepped in. The door squeaked when Amo pushed it open and Greta's head shot up.
A confused look crossed her face and she asked "what are you doing here?"
Ignoring her, Amo picked up her foot. Greta jerked, kicking his arm as she tried to pull her foot away, but Amo was stronger so he didn't let go. "What have they done to you? I knew the Falcones were crazy, just wait until I tell my Father how they torture their daughters-"
"They didn't torture me!" Great said it as if Amo was going crazy. "I'm in ballet, I started pointe this year, this is just what happens."
Amo looked confused. How can a simple dance make someone look that beat up and hurt? 'Not possible.' He thought, 'A whole night of dancing couldn't do this, instead it must be how they punished their kids. They just do it in a place where it couldn't be seen'
"Greta, this is serious! If something is going on I need you to trust me. I have connections."
"Are you insulting my family, Amo Vitiello?" Greta said angrily, "Because I don't appreciate that. Every ballerina's feet look like this and I knew that when I started. And besides, if I was being abused, why would they only hurt my toes?" She put a hand on her hip and looked up at him.
"To hide it of course," Amo replied thinking about how some of his father's men would abuse their wives only in places that could be hidden by clothes so that no one could see the marks. Amo didn't know why he was even bothering, this was Camorra territory and she was a Falcone. He had no reason to be so worried about her, but he was. He chalked it up to being raised to respect women and children.
Greta laughed causing Amo to lash out, "Greta this is serious!"
"No. Don't walk in here and act like you know anything. I am a dancer, my feet are like this because of the strain and pressure from the shoes." She glared at him as she emphasized her words with a jab to his chest.
She wanted to storm away but he was still holding her foot. She hated that he started to examine it. While she loved to dance the damages it had already done to her feet made her embarrassed by them. She couldn't wear the cute flip flops her mom and aunts did. She even hated swimming because she exposed them to her brother and cousins who always made such a big deal out of it. She hated the blisters she'd get before. She worked hard not to let them see what had begun as a result of her newest training.
"So this is from dancing?" He seemed so curious as he moved her foot from side to side.
"Yes, now can I have my foot back?" She snapped wanting to get away from this man, she had finally realized how they were in a room alone and while he might not see her as anything but a child, she still knew she was never supposed to be alone with guys.
"Are you going to rest it?" He asked, still not letting go of her foot.
"No, I'm going to re-wrap it and practice."
"You can't be serious!" She could feel a slight increase in pressure as his temper was reflected in his muscles.
"Deadly," She replied and then blew out an annoyed breath before continuing, "Look, you have scars right? From fighting and who knows what else? These are my scars. This is my battle. You fight for drugs, territory, and guy stuff. I fight to become the best."
"Fine. What can I do to help?" His words had confused her as she looked at him like a deer in the headlights.
"Painkillers? Alcohol? How do we numb it so you can keep going?" His question while completely serious had Greta giggling.
"Alcohol? My dad says I can't have any yet!" she barely managed to laugh out.
"I'm sorry I forgot I was talking with a child. Should I kiss it to make it better?" His mocking tone was emphasized by him puckering his lips and pulling her foot closer. Instantly she began to try and pull it away again.
"My toes are bleeding and gross don't even joke about that!" Her words meant to help her get her foot free felt like a challenge to Amo. He didn't shy away from anything. Firmly he pulled her foot towards his lips and placed a single kiss on her bleeding toes.
"EWW! That is disgusting." Greta cringed, as she was finally able to pull her foot away. Amo laughed at her disgusted expression, " There is blood on your lips now. Gross!"
"Eh, I've had worse on my lips," He said with a laugh as he began to lick the blood off, but seeing her repulsion made him pause. He couldn't resist dragging out the motion and seeing just how much he could make her squirm, "Mmmm, still warm. Just the way I like it."
"Oh my gosh, you're so gross, Amo!" Greta yelled, laughing at him.
"Perhaps, but the now inquiring minds must know did it work? Is your booboo feeling better, little girl?" His tone was challenging and held a tone of talking down to her like she was much younger than she was. Greta hated it.
"No," she quipped, finishing up her bandaging and tying on her shoes, "but I know how to handle pain." she proceeded to leap to her feet and began to dance. Amo didn't want to say it, but he was impressed. She wasn't perfect, he had seen ballets before, but the fact she could keep her face so serene, while her feet had to be in so much pain was very impressive. He intended to slip out and rejoin his Uncle and Adamo, but street races didn't hold much interest for him. So instead he leaned against the wall by the door and watched. Greta's body twisted and turned in ways that shouldn't be humanly possible. She lifted her right leg bringing it straight up and she held it and spun, then she suddenly swung the leg beneath her and arched her back. She was so graceful and swift. Curious to see just how far the child would push herself before the pain became too much, it was almost as if he couldn't leave until he knew. He found himself more and more surprised with each minute that passed, why didn't she quit already? He was sure she would crack as her legs spread down across the floor forming the splits. Amo was awestruck. He wasn't sure how one person could be so flexible in such a graceful manner.
Suddenly Amo realized he wasn't alone. Three boys had entered the room, holding plates of cake. Two held the distinct Falcone looks, the third held himself like a Falcone but didn't match the black hair and dark eyes the family was known for. "Who are you and why are you in here with my sister?" The oldest child growled out but his voice cracked on the word sister. 'Ah puberty,' thought Amo. He smirked knowing he had finally met Las Vegas' future Capo. With a temper like that, the boy would never be able to hold onto power.
"Nevio!" Greta called quickly joining them and pulling on her brother's arm.
"Why are you here?" He repeated not looking at his twin.
"Nevio, this is Amo Vitiello. I invited him." The girl lied through her teeth. Amo arched an eyebrow at her. Did she think he was scared of her brother or was she worried her brother's temper would get him pummeled? Amo wanted nothing more than to take the kid down a peg, but he was in Camorra territory and he wasn't about to risk peace over a child. With perfect timing, Amo could hear Adamo calling his name from nearby.
"As much as I'd love to spar with you kid I've got to get back to work," Amo directed at Nevio who, at this point, Greta was trying to physically block. "Oh, and twinkle toes, try not to hurt yourself again," Amo told her with a wink, causing the boys to stop glaring at him and instead surround Greta in concern.
Remo had come home by the time Amo made his way back to the guys, and he was just as short-tempered as his son. Remo's voice was loud and threatening as he yelled at his brother for having the street race meeting in his home. Amo steeled himself preparing for whatever may come. He completely understood why Remo was upset, his own father was hesitant to let others into his home as well. Eventually, Serafina managed to calm her husband down, and while the guys had all insisted they could move the meeting to Fabiano's place. Serafina insisted they stayed causing Remo to sit in for the rest.
After the initial Falcone outbursts, the rest of their business meeting was boring. They went over routes for the upcoming races and discussed the cars that he and Matteo would see in person later. None of it Amo found particularly interesting, but as his father had explained to him many times, he needed to be knowledgeable in all areas of their business dealings. It was when one of the Falcone women came in declaring dinner was nearly ready that Amo realized just how long they had been working. It took a moment for him to recognize her. She was wearing tight dark wash skinny jeans and a blood-red blouse, but the Vitiello features were there. Kiara, his father's cousin, had prepared a dinner of what looked like grilled cheese and tomato soup. Amo was shocked by the meal, it wasn't anything that he was expecting. That made him uncomfortable. He hated surprises. Despite how much he prepared, a trip to Vegas always seemed to bring surprises with it.
Dinner went well. Amo continued to watch the Falcones, after all this time they were still an unpredictable group, well most of them at least. Purposely, he allowed some of the tomato soup to sit on his bottom lip after taking a sip. He watched Greta and as soon as she made eye contact he slowly licked off the red soup, "Mmmmm, still warm. Just the way I like it."
Her nose scrunched up in revulsion and she shoved her bowl away. Amo held in the laughter that he wanted to let out. She was so much fun to mess with. Watching the child freak out had him enjoying his visit just a bit more. He ignored the odd looks from the adults and continued sipping his soup.
"What's wrong Twinkle Toes? Don't like your soup?" He asked before taking another big spoonful. The rest of dinner was spent with the women discussing random things that held no interest for Amo. It was Adamo leaning over that finally helped him want to pay attention to someone again, "So Diego just said the shipment was delayed. How do you feel about hitting up the Sugar Trapp before we go? There are some awesome women there that belong to the Camorra."
"Man, I'm all for it, but my aunt would kill Matteo if she finds out. Would we have time to go and come back for him after?" Adamo nodded at Amo's question. The young man was grateful he might finally get to see some of the fun sides of Vegas.
Most of the guys in his circles had started visiting special establishments at an early age, unfortunately for Amo, his father hadn't followed in the age-old tradition. Luca had told his son it was better to not let his duties to the Famiglia dictate how he led his personal life. Thankfully for him, his sister's guy friends had been more than willing to let him get those life experiences with them.
"Looks like there were some people who decided to break into my chocolate cake before it was time," Kiara said as she entered the room with a glare toward the pre-teens. The chocolate cake was missing nearly a quarter. Amo averted his eyes as Greta stared innocently at her aunt, "I'm so sorry Aunt Kirara. I have been working so hard, and I skipped lunch. I was hungry and I didn't mean to eat so much."
"You ate that much cake alone?" Kiara asked doubtfully while looking at Nevio and the boys.
"Yes," the girl said confidently. Amo suppressed a smile, the girl had lied to protect someone else, again.
"So, the Sugar Trapp?" Amo asked to relieve the tension.
Matteo had decided he should come along for Amo's safety, he said Luca would kill him if he didn't. Amo wasn't happy about it, he knew his uncle wouldn't partake in the girls and would just be a wet blanket but when Fabiano said he would come as well, Amo knew for sure him and Adamo wouldn't have as much fun as they had originally planned anyway.
"Alright I'm ready, let's hit the Sugar Trapp." A distinctly broken voice squeaked as Nevio walked up to their group. His cockiness and swagger were way too big for his pre-teen self.
"Sorry little man, but I don't think you're quite old enough to go yet," Matteo told the kid. Fabiano had to place a restraining hand on Nevio. Amo found he was starting to understand the future Capo because he knew before he reacted that he wouldn't like being told no, "I am a Falcone! I own this town!"
"You aren't going anywhere young man!" Serafina chastised, "Your sister has her recital tonight."
The boy's mother dragged him away, but the guys weren't in the clear yet. While they were getting their things together to leave, the other twin, Greta, popped up to stop them.
"Ummm, Amo?" The pre-teen seemed so much more unsure of herself than she did in her ballet studio that afternoon. Amo wondered if this was because she had an audience when speaking to him or if it was because of Matteo. While he wasn't as tall as his father, Matteo was intimidating.
"I have a dance recital tonight in about a couple of hours. Would you like to come? I heard Uncle Adamo say your shipment was delayed and I thought maybe…" her words were cut off by her uncle throwing an arm over her shoulder, "Sorry kid, we already made other plans."
"That's right Twinkle Toes," Amo added hoping to gross her out at the reminder but instead she gave him that look that he knew was not safe for a kid like her to give a man like him, so he said something he hoped would kill that stupid childish crush, "I've got a date with several grown-up women tonight. I can't leave them all waiting, now can I?"
With that, the guys laughed and headed out for a night on the town. Amo told himself he didn't feel the tiniest bit bad about the unshed tears he saw glistening in the girl's eyes. After all, she was a child and it wasn't like she would ever see him again anyway. Peace with the Camorra wouldn't last that long.