Amo 21, Greta 16
Amo had more doubts about proposing to a child on the flight to Nevada than he did now. After seeing her for the past two days and spending time with her, he felt confident that she was mature enough to handle being the wife of a Capo. He knew he wouldn't have to marry her for another two years, so he had plenty of time to entertain women of his own age before the shackles of marriage held him back. What Greta didn't know wouldn't hurt her. He also knew lots of made men cheated on their spouses with whores and outsiders, but he didn't want to be like them. Witnessing the bond and trust a faithful marriage had created for his parents made him want the same. He genuinely wanted to take care of his wife and respect her for who she is. He wanted a marriage like his parents.
It was just before lunchtime when the Vitiello's made their way back to the Falcone mansion. After saying hello to everyone and adjourning to the sitting room, Amo's eyes landed on Greta. She was just wearing jeans and a soft scoop neck pink t-shirt, but she was beautiful. Their parents were deep in conversation about business, and the engagement party, and Amo took his chance to speak to his bride-to-be privately.
"Hey Twinkle Toes," Amo said as they sat down on a couch on the opposite end of the room. "I need to talk to you about our wedding." He softly spoke so he couldn't be overheard and motioned for her to do the same. "Your dad is kinda pushing not to keep the Vitiello traditions, and since you're gonna be a Vitiello, I would like to have you at my side when I push to uphold my family's traditions." Greta looked confused.
"What traditions?"
Amo took a deep breath and searched for words that wouldn't send the poor girl running for the hills. "First of all, getting married in my family mansion. My men have a right to be there. Your father is insisting we hold the wedding here in Vegas."
Greta let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, is that all? I'll talk to him. I figured we would have the wedding up there anyway. It just makes sense." She moved to get up, but Amo put a hand on her arm, and she sat back down. "There's more?" She asked, confused.
"Greta, there's a thing about our traditions that neither I nor my father like, but it's something we can't avoid. Your dad is adamant against it, and you're the only one who has an overall say. I need you to tell him you're okay with the bloody sheets." Greta went pale. Amo could almost see the wheels turning in her head.
"What are 'bloody sheets'?" She looked almost afraid to ask. "You're not going to cut me, are you? Because if that's the kind of a marriage this is going to be, I don't accept."
He noticed Nevio watching his sister and started to make his way over. Amo shook his head, "No, no not like that. I may not be a good man, but I promise that I would never hurt you. The 'bloody sheets' are a tradition that we've had for generations. It's proof of the new bride's virtue. After the wedding night, the married women of the family come to the couple's bedroom and collect the sheets they consummate their marriage on. If there's blood, it means the woman stayed a virgin and was pure. It's disgusting and degrading, but it's what the people want."
While Amo was talking, Nevio sat next to his sister and put an arm around her, "That's barbaric. You don't have to do this, Greta. Do you really want to be humiliated like that in front of both of our families? Do you really want to marry somebody who would make you do that?" Greta thought for a moment.
"But what if Greta's not a virgin?" Nevio said contemplatively. Amo looked shocked. Greta gave Nevio a look as if questioning something through her eyes. The look on Greta's face morphed into one of understanding; she knew the game Nevio was playing.
"You're not a virgin?" Amo said the words louder than he meant.
Greta was thankful the parents were engrossed in their own conversation otherwise, her dad would have reacted possibly worse than Amo.
"The Camorra doesn't hold up the same traditions as the Famiglia," Nevio said nonchalantly. "We don't care if our women are virgins; all we need is loyalty."
Nevio grinned at Greta proud of his scheme. The twins could be quite devious when they worked together.
"I don't believe this!" Amo said angrily, "When those sheets aren't red, you will be ruined! I will have no choice but to shame you."
With one more sly look at each other, Greta and Nevio burst out laughing. Amo was confused and angry at the sudden laughter. How could they think this would be okay? "Who is he?" Amo growled, "Who took what was mine?"
"Calm down Amo," Greta said casually, "It was only a joke. I'm a virgin."
Nevio looked disappointed that the game was over so soon. Amo didn't look amused. "Your virtue is not something to joke about."
"Relax," said Nevio, draping a protective arm around his sister. "The Camorra may not follow your barbaric traditions, but you think I'd let just any guy slum it with my sister? You think my father would allow any guy to talk to Greta, let alone fuck her."
"Anyway," Greta muttered, not wanting to see how far Nevio would take this, "In regards to the bloody sheets, I don't like it at all. It sounds embarrassing and I understand why Dad is against it; it's vulgar!" This time it was her voice that raised, and the set in her jaw reminded him eerily of when his mother put her foot down.
"However," with that small word came a glint in her eye that Amo didn't like, "I might be willing to agree."
"You can't be se-" Nevio's protest was cut off by Greta holding up her hand towards him.
"Yes, I could handle the bloody sheets and talk my father into it, if…" Amo held his breath at her words this girl was no longer blushing in fact, she was holding herself in such an assured manner that he knew whatever it was she wanted in return would not be something she would relent on. After a dramatic pause, she looked directly into Amo's eye with more confidence than a girl her age would usually be able to display, "if and only if you also keep yourself pure until our wedding night." Amo almost laughed, but Greta continued without so much as blinking, "I'm not an idiot, and I know you're not a virgin, but if I can't so much as dance with any boys except you, then you can't do the horizontal tango with any women except me from now on. If I find out you do, and I will find out, then I will not consent to your traditions. Which means I won't even sleep with you on our wedding night." At that, Nevio had a fire in his eyes that screamed death.
"You can't do that, I have rights," Amo protested, "You belong to me and are supposed to keep yourself pure. I don't have to." Greta firmly crossed her arms once again, reminding him of his mother. "I am not a docile little girl. I may be shy, but I'm still a Falcone, and I deserve respect. If you sleep with another woman before we marry, there will be blood on those sheets, but it sure as hell won't be mine!"
Nevio clenched his fist, "If you disrespect my sister, I won't sleep until you're dead."
Amo ran a hand through his hair. His mind conjured images of his father and mother. His father told him many times over the years that a happy wife who was loyal was the most precious thing a made man could ever ask for. His Uncle Matteo always told him that keeping the women happy was what gave them something good to go home to at the end of the day. He had to get her to agree to New York and the sheets. No matter what.
"What's wrong, Amo?" Greta quietly asked when he hadn't responded quickly enough for her, liking, "Are you not strong enough to stay away from the opposite sex?" Her words were a challenge.
'If I want a peaceful marriage, I have a duty to make my wife happy. If she isn't happy with me, Remo won't be happy with me. Nevio sure as hell won't be happy with me either and I'm not sure which is worse at this point. Either way, that means war, which some people want anyway except I also have a duty to my men to uphold their customs, so fuck me. I can't back down from a challenge. I'm Amo Fucking Vitiello nothing is too hard for me' "Fine. You have my word. I won't sleep with another woman until our wedding night. But you better make it worth it."
Greta stuck out her hand, and Amo reluctantly shook it. He regretted ever choosing her in the first place. But he was stuck now. Might as well get it over with, then. He stood and pulled Greta to her feet; Nevio followed them with a frown. The trio found the rest of their respective family members in the garden. As they approached, Amo cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "As you all know, we are here to further the marriage alliance between the New York Famiglia and the Las Vegas Camorra. Remo, with your blessing, I intend to marry your daughter Greta." Remo gave a nod of his head, but if looks could kill, Amo would be dead.
"Greta Falcone, in front of your family and mine I ask you to be my wife." Still standing tall, he pulled a ring box out of his coat pocket, opened it, and offered it to the girl standing at his side.
Greta looked at the ring and her family that surrounded her. By taking this ring, she would now be under the authority of the Famiglia, and yet she also knew that her acceptance was just for show "I will marry you," Greta said softly. She didn't like all the attention on her. Amo had learned this about her and made a big to-do of his proposal as payback for her joke and conditions. He took the ring out of the box and placed it on her finger.
The was a 3 carat diamond on a rose gold band with little diamonds intertwining around it. It was unlike anything Greta had ever seen. After he placed the ring on her finger, he kissed her hand. A soft blush crept onto Greta's cheeks as all the women clapped in excitement.
"Well, Twinkle Toes, I'll see you in a few days." Amo turned to leave the room. "Where are you going?" She asked. "Laughlin with Dad and Adamo. We're looking at some cars to buy. I'll be back in time for our party." Greta nodded as the three men left the house. As soon as the door shut, she was swarmed with the ladies in her family and Aria as they all started talking to her at once. She felt growing panic as she tried to acknowledge everyone, but the stress of what just happened was getting to her. She held up her hands and said, "Excuse me for a minute," And she broke through the ring of people and ran down the rows to her favorite spot in the garden.
After a few minutes of sitting alone, Nevio was by her side; he slumped down to the ground beside her, where she sat staring at the ring on her hand.
"Nevio," she whispered after a while, "I'm scared. Not of Amo, but I'm scared of leaving home. Leaving you." Nevio nodded in understanding.
"Listen, you don't have to leave. You don't have to marry Amo. It hasn't been announced publically yet. You can give him the ring back and marry someone from the Camorra and stay in the mansion with us. Or at least move to one of the other mansions we own around here."
Greta sighed, "I can't do that. If I break off our arrangement, that would mean war. I don't want to start a war because I'm scared of moving. That could get someone I love killed, like you or Dad."
"It's worth a war. You know every single person inside that mansion would risk war if you didn't want to go through with this decision, and they wouldn't think twice about it. You just have to say the words." Nevio took Greta's hand. "You've heard of the Famiglia and how they treat their women. If you marry Amo, you'll never be able to dance again. Something will happen one day, and war will break out regardless of your marriage. Even Amo knows this, and when that happens, you'll never see me or our family again. You'll be horribly abused and all alone, while he's sleeping with all the whores in New York. You won't even have any female friends because they will all see you as an outsider and never accept you as one of them. Think about it. Please just think about it. You know mom's origin. She hasn't seen her twin brother or even her little sister since she chose our family over the Outfit."
"Nevio, we made a deal. You heard him. He won't touch another girl until we get married. So at least he's willing to listen to me. Besides this marriage, Dad and Luca shook on it." Greta sighed. "I promise to think about it, though. Can I please just be alone for now?" Nevio squeezed Greta's hand and left her in her solitude to be alone with her thoughts.
'Would Amo abuse me? I've heard how ruthless the Vitiello's are. His dad is called The Vice for a reason. Even Amo was referred to as the Sandman because people claimed he knocked a man out so hard that the guy never woke up when he was twelve. Maybe I shouldn't marry him. But didn't he try to protect me when I was twelve? If he was going to hurt me, he wouldn't have cared about my feet. Then there was the party he was so kind, or at least until he saw the dance with Angelo. He did promise he would never hurt me. Maybe Nevio's just overreacting. There are too many risks calling this engagement off. This marriage has to happen.'
Three days later, Luca, Amo, and Adamo had returned and it was time to celebrate their engagement. Remo made it obvious he thought the party was a waste of time, but the women were extremely excited and had planned every detail. Greta had assumed the event would be something that she could have a say in, but she quickly learned that this event was one that had to be perfect due to her and Amo's positions within their two families. Greta stood in front of the floor-length mirror staring at herself in the "dress." What she would wear had been a point of contention within her family, each woman had a different point of view. The matter was considered settled when a care package arrived with a dress and a card stating it was for the engagement party.
To the Future Mrs. Vitiello,
The honor of being a Vitiello woman comes with many, many perks. We hold ourselves in high standards, and all of society is watching our every move. While I can not attend your engagement party, I wanted to ensure that your first night as a wife to our future Capo is one to be remembered. Consider this gift my token as a way to welcome you into the family. You will be the center of attention with this dress. I had my favorite stylist design it just for you.
Amo will love seeing you in it,
Nina Vitiello
It was from Amo's grandmother, and as traditions go in the Famiglia, they knew insulting his grandmother would probably be a bad idea.
Greta tugged at the hem of this dress that stopped way too high up her thigh and cut way too low at her chest. Greta thought herself pretty conservative yet fashionable when dressing compared to many girls her age, not that she would even be allowed to wear half of what most girls her age wore. Her Dad and uncles would lock her in a tower forever if they ever saw her wear anything showing slightly too much skin; Greta wished they'd do it tonight. 'This is ridiculous!' Greta thought. 'The engagement is already in the bag, no one's backing out now, so why do I have to dress like something that just crawled out of the Sugar Trapp?'
Greta eyed the heels her mom had picked out for her to wear with the dress. With those on, she'd look like a high-class hooker. Deciding against it, Greta went to her closet and pulled out a pair of flats. Even if she couldn't get away with wearing a different dress, she could probably justify the shoes. With one last tug and pull Greta gave a shaky sigh and headed out the door.
As she walked through the corridor alone she felt naked and uncomfortable. When she heard the familiar murmurs of her family's voices waiting for her in the living room she wanted to turn and run. She never felt uncomfortable around her family, but wearing this, all Greta wanted to do was be invisible. Greta padded into the room, hoping to draw as little attention to herself as possible. As soon as she stepped in all eyes turned to her, Greta felt her cheeks warm, and she looked down, tracing the wood grain of the floorboards with her eyes..
"Does she really have to wear that?" Nevio asked protectively. Greta caught her twin's eye and was grateful for his question.
"Amo's grandmother sent it for tonight," Remo said with an edge.
"Last time I checked, Greta was still a part of the Camorra." Nevio scoffed.
"Watch it," Remo warned his son. "I don't like this any more than you do but she's going to be part of their family soon."
"So flaunting your daughter around looking like some fucking whore is okay? By the looks of this dress, they're gonna turn her into one!" Nevio was looking for a fight.
"Why don't we all take a deep breath" Serafina chimed in, trying to calm both her men down.
"How could she pick something this obscene for me to wear?" Greta questioned her mother.
"Greta-" her mother started, but she was cut off.
"There are many other dresses that don't require me looking like one of the whores Nevio gets off with at the Sugar Trapp. It's like she walked in and borrowed one of their dresses and then slapped a designer label on it. Even Aria said an elegant dress would do! Maybe she dressed like this when she got engaged, but making me do the same thing is just degrading" Greta was getting irritated with the whole thing.
Serafina looked shocked at her daughter's words. Remo snapped "Greta; you aren't wearing that. I am Capo here, and what I say goes. Just because you are marrying him does not mean you do what they want; it's only an engagement! If it means wearing a dress that leaves you practically naked and upset in front of the Famiglia, they will damn well get over it. I don't care what that boy or his family says. You are my little girl and you will always be my little girl."
Determination filled Greta. Her father was preposterous. She was engaged; she wasn't a little girl anymore. Perhaps this dress was a test from Amo's family, and perhaps they didn't think she could handle living in their society.
"No, I'm wearing this stupid dress." Greta gritted out between her clenched teeth. "I'm not a little girl! I will prove that to you and the Vitiello's." Nevio looked even angrier at the entire situation, but seeing his sister's determination; he knew there was nothing left to say. He went over to Greta, took his suit jacket off, and put it on Greta's shoulders as if to cover her up more.
"Nevio!" Greta shouted angrily at the gesture.
"You want Dad to start a bloodbath before we even get to your engagement party?" Nevio whispered. Greta shook her head. "Then take the damn jacket and don't push it."
The Falcone family left soon after that to head to the party mansion and present Greta to her soon-to-be groom. Greta was practically shaking during the short ride down the street. She clung to Nevio's arm like she might fly away if she let go. She never liked being the center of attention unless she was dancing. When she danced she could block the audience from her mind and focus on the music and moving her body. But there would be no music this time. She would have to face the crowd of people exposed, and they would all leer at her in her tiny dress.
When they arrived at the mansion, her mother gave her a big hug, and her parents walked inside to wait with the rest of the guests. Greta took a few deep steadying breaths and paced up and down the length of their Audi, trying to expel as much nervous energy as she could. Nevio took her arm and stopped her. "You don't have to do this. We can get back in this car and drive away and you could be free." Greta shook her head, "I can't. That would destroy our parents and you know that." Nevio looked like he might take her away regardless. "Let's get this over with," Greta said as she grabbed Nevio's arm and walked inside the mansion.
Greta stood in front of the big grand doors of the ballroom. She wore Nevio's jacket over her shoulders still and she wished she could keep it on when she walked in. Nevio stood next to her and squeezed her hand. "I will be standing next to you the whole time," Greta gave him a shaky smile. "But I need my jacket back, you aren't supposed to walk in there wearing it, but you know I don't care what any of those fuckers think." Greta reluctantly took off the jacket and gave it to her brother. He slipped it on then, with one last smile at Greta, Nevio pushed the door open.
All eyes in the room turned to Greta. She contemplated turning around, running out the door, and joining a witness protection program so she would never have to see any of them again. Nevio put his hand on her shoulder and led her forward. By the look of the men in the room, Greta now realized why she was never allowed to wear things like this normally. She felt like a deer in headlights by all the unsettling looks she received. Now she really wished she'd listened to her father and not worn the dress.
Amo was staring at her with a dark look she couldn't give a name to. She felt her brother's grip tighten on her shoulder as they walked toward her fiancé. Amo extended his hand and she took it without hesitation. She needed to look powerful and in control, even if she felt scared and cornered. One of the hired servers held out a tray with two flutes of champagne. Amo took one and offered it to Greta, then raised his own glass. Together they turned and faced the crowd of guests, " A toast," Amo began, "to my lovely future bride and our families. As you all know, I intend to marry Greta after her eighteenth birthday. With this wedding, we will strengthen this bond of peace between the Famiglia and the Camorra. Let us now raise our glasses to peace, the peace our families had held for nearly two decades, may we all thrive and prosper both now and in the future."
"Salud!" He said. Their families and guests parroted his toast. "Salud!" Cheers and clinking glasses could be heard throughout the room.
While everyone began to converse Amo wrapped a firm arm around Greta's waist. For one crazy moment, Greta thought he was leaning down towards her to steal a kiss, but his lips landed next to her ears and while his tone was soft it was anything but kind.
"What the hell do you think you are wearing?" He growled out causing Greta to freeze.
"Is this some kind of a joke?" He continued his hand on her waist gripping the skin-tight material on her hips. "First you claim to not be a virgin, then you walk in here looking like a high dollar prostitute. Tell me this was your father's idea."
Greta wanted to run and cry, but instead, she held back her tears and threw back her glass of champagne. She felt like fainting as the alcohol burned down her throat. She was glad people were too busy chattering amongst themselves to notice the tension between her and her future groom.
"If you must know," Greta finally said after composing herself enough to make sure her voice wouldn't crack, "This dress was a gift."
Amo laughed darkly, "What twisted person would think it is okay to dress a girl your age in something like this?"
"Your grandmother." Greta snapped back before pulling herself out of his grasp and heading to grab another glass of champagne. If she was going to make it through this night, she was going to need more than the one glass her parents usually allowed her. It was as Greta began her fourth glass that she felt a rage building inside of her. She felt like her life was spinning out of control. Greta was mad at her father for arranging her marriage. She was mad at Nevio for making it harder to accept her fate. She was angry with Luca for forcing his traditions on her. She was mad at Amo for being so calm about the whole thing. But most of all, Greta was mad at herself. She was a Falcone; her father had taught her to stand up for herself, but ever since she found out about her engagement she had strived to not cause waves. By not standing up for herself she had allowed this to happen. Greta felt the urge to do something stupid. Something brash and not like her. She felt a burning need to take control of her own life back.
It wasn't long before everyone left the parlor room to head to the ballroom, after congratulating the couple. Nevio was reluctant to leave Greta alone with Amo, but to her surprise, their father pushed him out. It was then Greta realized Amo must have requested to be able to speak with her alone, and with the ring in place, the wedding was now nothing more than another formality. "Well Twinkle Toes, it looks like it's just you and me now. Can you please tell me why the hell a good kid like you, would ever agree to wear a dress like that?"
Greta felt more anger build up at his words. She wasn't a kid, she wore the stupid slutty dress his family sent to her out of respect. She handled every situation he threw at her with as much maturity as possible. She had done everything she could to be kind to him and his family. She needed to release her pent up feelings and prove that she was old enough to handle herself, and obviously there was only one way her fiancé would stop thinking of her as a child.
Greta walked to the door her family just left out of and clicked the lock into place. She was done with pleasantries. If Amo wanted someone who was supposed to be good and pure and anything but what this dress made her feel, then he wouldn't have the reputation he had. She wanted to rebel. She was tired of being a good girl. Hadn't his grandmother said he would like the dress? Wasn't his own family the ones who wanted the ridiculous bloody sheets? How could they want her to be pure and dress like a hooker? Amo placed a hand on Greta's seething shoulder completely unaware of the eruption taking place within her.
After years of not only ballet but also practicing in the fighting ring with her Aunt Gemma, it was second nature for Greta to spin on Amo. She had to have caught him by surprise as she used her body weight to slam him against the wall beside the door.
"Greta, what are you doing?" Amo asked her. He obviously didn't consider her a threat as he hadn't so much as attempted to stop her. Greta was so close to him she could feel Amo's body heat from the small distance between them.
"Something I'm not supposed to," Greta said, before filling the gap between them and using her hand on his neck to pull him down into a very forceful kiss. It caught Amo off guard at her actions, but who was he to resist a kiss from a girl like Greta. Their lips were melding together, each pushing and pulling for dominance, soon one of his hands moved up to cup her face. He stroked a thumb across her cheek, as he allowed himself to enjoy the moment. He ran his hands down her bare arms and backed her up against the wall, but a voice in the back of his head wouldn't let the kiss go any farther. He didn't want to stop, but he knew she was only using him as a distraction, trying to prove a point or something. Amo wasn't sure what it was about, but he had to stop it.
Amo reluctantly pulled away from her and Greta looked at him exasperated. "Greta this isn't right."
"What?" she asked, confused, her eyes glassy from too many flutes of champagne.
"We shouldn't be doing this, you're drunk and you could get in a lot of trouble if your family found out."
"That's the point! I'm sick of this whole thing, of just having to go with it. I'm tired of this dress and their demands and all the crap that everyone expects of me with no consideration as to how I feel. You all think I am old enough to get engaged, and yet you treat me like a little girl. I want to prove that I'm not. I'm not just some kid that you all can just boss around."
"Normally, I would be all for making your parents mad, and trust me; this would piss off your father if he knew how close I'm holding you right now. Not to mention that you taste sinfully delicious. In fact, having that sample will make waiting even harder, but I'm not a child fucker. We will wait until you're legal and my wife." Amo slowly spoke as he slid his hands down her bare shoulders towards her elbows.
"Are you kidding me?" Greta practically yelled "You are literally a man whore, I've heard the rumors. You've slept with countless girls without a second thought. I had to make a compromise just so you would be faithful to me, and now you choose to be decent?"
"I may be a killer and we may be engaged, but you are still a child, no matter how you act and dress. I can't and won't take advantage of you. I'm not a pedophile and I will not give anyone reason to believe that I am. This is my reputation too, kid!" Amo tried to step away from the wall and out of her grasp, but Greta used his weight against him, shoving him back into the wall. She tangled her hands in his hair and kissed him again, softer, but with more passion.
"I'm your fiancée Amo. I'm not a kid in this world. I'm tired of being treated like one. I'm sick of being decent." The taste of champagne on her lips and the smell of her perfume were clogging Amo's senses and he almost moved to kiss her again, when he paused.
"I don't want to hurt you, Greta. I really don't. I know you're upset, but this isn't going to help. Let's get to the ballroom and suffer through the rest of this damn party, then I'll go back to New York and you can dance your heart out for the next two years. You don't need to think of me again after I leave, until our wedding. But I promise I won't stop thinking of you." With that, Amo stole one final kiss from her lips, "Sweet sixteen indeed." he mumbled and then pulled her around to where they were facing the door that would lead towards their party and take them away from her rebellion that he had enjoyed more than he should have. Amo was pulled away from her almost as soon as they entered the ballroom by his father. Nevio appeared at his sister's side with two slices of cake in hand. Greta took her traditional slice of hijacked cake and dug in. Grateful that some things never change.
"Luca was pissed at his stepmom when Dad told him she sent the dress. Apparently, she wasn't invited for a reason." Nevio told his sister.
"I kinda got that feeling from Amo," Greta replied between bites. Each morsel of the vanilla cake absorbing some of the alcohol and bringing a little bit of sobriety to her.
"Is that what he was talking to you about? He has no right to tell you what you can and can't wear." Nevio's rage had him swallowing his cake practically whole. Greta thought that ironic considering his outburst against her wearing this dress.
"More or less," Greta whispered with her cheeks heating.
They were interrupted when their Aunt Kiara called everyone for dinner. Greta had to sit by Amo and so she would be separated from her brother once again, but as she walked away Nevio slipped his coat over her shoulders. "You need to do what is best for you sis. Not everyone else." When Greta took her place at Amo's side he gave her brother's coat an odd look and then leaning forward he wiped a bit of icing from the corner of her mouth with a chuckle and a smirk. He and his family left the next day, and Greta was more confused about her feelings than ever before.