Smoke and smiles

Rain fell over the city like a funeral veil.

Cold water slid down the dark windows of the Collin estate, distorting the lights outside into bleeding streaks of gold and white. Somewhere far below, engines roared through wet streets, sirens echoed in the distance, and the city continued breathing like a monster that never truly slept.

Ares Collin stood silently near the massive office window, one hand in the pocket of his black tailored pants while the other held a glass of untouched whiskey.

Behind him, men argued.

“Three shipments disappeared.”

“They were intercepted before reaching the harbor.”

“There’s no way the police knew the exact route.”

“The Moretti family is involved. It has to be them.”

Ares said nothing.

The room itself seemed afraid of him.

Dim lights illuminated the dark wood walls of the office, the shelves filled with expensive liquor and old books inherited from generations of Collins before him. Smoke from a forgotten cigarette curled lazily through the air.

No one sat while Ares stood.

No one dared.

“Ares.”

One of the men finally spoke again, more carefully this time.

“We received confirmation that Elio Moretti was seen near the docks yesterday.”

At the mention of that name, Ares slowly lifted his eyes.

Annoyance crossed his face instantly.

“Elio Moretti,” he repeated coldly.

Even saying the name irritated him.

That man was a disease wrapped in a designer suit.

Too loud. Too careless. Too alive.

Ares had spent years building his reputation carefully, turning fear into an empire brick by brick. People lowered their heads when he entered rooms. They trembled when he spoke.

Elio did the opposite.

He laughed too much.

Talked too much.

Touched people too casually.

As if he didn’t belong in the same bloody world as the rest of them.

Ares despised people like that.

“Should we retaliate?” another man asked carefully.

Ares finally turned around.

Tall. Sharp-faced. Dark-haired. Every movement controlled with terrifying precision. His black shirt was rolled slightly at the sleeves, revealing tattooed lines disappearing beneath expensive fabric.

His eyes were the worst part.

Cold enough to freeze a confession out of anyone.

“No,” he answered calmly.

The room fell silent.

Ares walked toward the table slowly.

“If the Morettis wanted war, we would already have bodies hanging from bridges.”

One of the younger men swallowed nervously.

“Then what do we do?”

Ares placed his whiskey glass down with a soft clink.

“We wait.”

The others exchanged glances.

Waiting was dangerous.

But questioning Ares Collin was worse.

Before anyone could speak again, the office doors suddenly opened without warning.

Laughter echoed through the hallway.

Bright. Unrestrained. Completely out of place.

Ares closed his eyes briefly.

Already irritated.

“Elio Moretti is here,” one of the guards announced carefully.

The atmosphere in the room changed instantly.

Hands moved closer to hidden weapons.

Several men cursed under their breath.

And then Elio entered like he owned the building.

“So this is where all the depressing people gather.”

His voice carried amusement so naturally it sounded criminal.

Elio Moretti stepped inside wearing a long dark coat still covered in rain droplets. Rings glittered on his fingers as he casually removed his gloves. His dark curls were slightly wet, framing a face far too beautiful for a man born into violence.

He smiled immediately upon seeing Ares.

There it was.

That stupid smile.

“Collin,” Elio greeted dramatically. “You look as welcoming as a tax collector.”

Nobody laughed.

Elio looked around the silent room.

“Tough crowd tonight.”

“Aren’t you supposed to knock?” Ares asked flatly.

Elio walked closer without permission.

“I did. Your guards looked nervous, so I saved them the embarrassment.”

One of Ares’ men muttered an insult under his breath.

Elio grinned wider.

“Relax. If I wanted someone dead, you’d know.”

The tension thickened instantly.

Ares stared at him with open disgust.

Everything about Elio irritated him.

The way he stood too close.

The way he smiled during serious conversations.

The way he acted untouchable.

“You’re wasting my time,” Ares finally said.

Elio placed a hand dramatically against his chest.

“That hurts. I came here personally to help you.”

“You?”

“Shocking, I know.”

Ares crossed his arms slowly.

“Speak.”

For the first time since entering, Elio’s smile faded slightly.

“Someone is targeting both our families.”

The room grew quieter.

Ares watched him carefully.

“And?”

“And if we continue blaming each other like idiots, we’ll both lose territory before the month ends.”

One of the men scoffed.

“You expect us to trust a Moretti?”

Elio looked toward him lazily.

“No. I expect you to use whatever tiny survival instincts you have left.”

The man instantly shut up.

Ares noticed it immediately.

That shift.

Tiny.

But real.

For half a second, Elio’s playful mask had disappeared.

Something colder hid underneath.

Then the smile returned just as quickly.

“I’m wounded,” Elio sighed dramatically. “I come offering cooperation and everyone looks at me like I kicked a puppy.”

“You probably would,” Ares replied.

“Only if the puppy insulted my shoes.”

Ares felt his patience thinning.

“What exactly do you want?”

Elio stepped closer to the desk.

“There’s going to be a private auction tomorrow night.”

Ares remained silent.

“Illegal weapons,” Elio continued. “Military-grade shipments. Whoever controls them controls half the city.”

“And?”

“And someone plans to massacre both our families during the exchange.”

The room froze.

Even Ares narrowed his eyes slightly.

“How do you know?”

Elio tilted his head.

“I have sources.”

“You lie constantly.”

“That too.”

Ares stared at him for several seconds.

Trying to read him.

Trying to figure out whether this was another performance.

But Elio simply smiled back calmly, hands in his pockets.

Like a man discussing weather instead of bloodshed.

Finally, Ares spoke.

“If this is a trap—”

“It’s not.”

“You interrupt too much.”

“You speak too slowly.”

Several men looked ready to shoot him.

Elio noticed and laughed softly.

“See? This is why nobody likes the Collins at parties.”

“We don’t attend parties.”

“Exactly my point.”

Ares moved closer until they stood only inches apart.

The room seemed to tighten around them instantly.

Elio still smiled.

But Ares noticed something strange.

He didn’t step back.

Most people did.

Most people feared Ares enough to avoid eye contact.

Elio looked directly into his eyes without hesitation.

Fearless.

Or suicidal.

“You enjoy provoking me,” Ares said quietly.

Elio’s gaze flickered briefly downward toward Ares’ mouth before returning to his eyes.

“Maybe I enjoy your attention.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Dangerous.

One of the guards shifted awkwardly.

Ares felt irritation crawl beneath his skin again.

This man treated every conversation like a game.

“You’re an idiot,” Ares muttered.

Elio smiled slowly.

“And yet you keep looking at me.”

Before Ares could answer, thunder exploded outside the windows.

Rain intensified against the glass.

For a brief second, neither man moved.

Then Elio stepped back casually.

“I’ve delivered my warning,” he said lightly. “What you do with it is your problem now.”

He turned toward the door.

Then paused.

Without looking back, he added quietly:

“Oh… and tell your sniper on the roof to stop aiming at my car. It makes my driver nervous.”

The room instantly erupted.

“How the hell did he know about that?”

“Impossible.”

Ares said nothing.

His eyes remained fixed on Elio’s back as the man walked away laughing softly to himself.

A clown.

A reckless idiot.

A spoiled mafia prince pretending life was one big joke.

And yet…

Ares couldn’t ignore the strange feeling settling in his chest.

Because beneath Elio Moretti’s laughter…

something dangerous was hiding.

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