That damn smirk...!

*As she finished her song and disappeared from the stage, Alan set his glass down on the table. His expression unreadable.*

"She's good… too damn good."

*The bodyguards exchanged looks, surprised at the comment. They knew their boss well enough to know that he rarely gave compliments*

*One of them smirked. "Not so bad to look at either," he said, nudging his partner*

*Alan shot a cold glance at the guard who spoke.*

"Don't. Just- don't even go there."

*He leaned back in his seat, annoyed. He really didn't need to be thinking about her like that. He was a Mafia boss, he had other things to worry about. But the image of her lingered in his mind, annoyingly so.*

"I need a cigarette."

*He muttered as he looked around, searching for a lighter*

*One of his bodyguards immediately handed him a lighter, knowing that look on his boss' face. The other one, still amused, smirked.*

"Someone seems... captivated~"

*He teased, knowing full well that it would annoy Alan even more*

*Someone comes and sits on the chair next to him*

"Hey there, handsome~. Do you have a lighter?~"

*It was her, back into her normal clothes with a cigarette in her fingers*

*Alan's eyes instantly darkened as he heard her voice. He didn't expect her to sit next to him, the audacity of this woman*

*Annoyance and irritation flared in his chest, mixed with a strange sense of intrigue.*

*He held up the lighter, his gaze cold and calculating as he looked at her. He couldn't deny that she looked just as good up close.*

"Here."

*He said, holding out the lighter to her*

*The singer took the lighter from his fingers, her own brushing against his for a fraction of a second too long—whether intentional or not, it didn't matter. She lit her cigarette slowly, exhaling smoke with a smirk.*

"You don’t talk much, do you?" *She leaned slightly closer, resting her elbow on the bar.* "Or do you just hate beautiful women singing in your vicinity?"

*Alan clenched his jaw, gripping his whiskey glass tighter.*

"Don’t flatter yourself." *His voice was sharp, but there was something beneath it—maybe irritation, maybe something else entirely.* "And this isn’t *my* vicinity. It’s a bar."

*She laughed, low and knowing.* "Ah, so you *do* speak." *She tilted her head, studying him.* "And here I thought you were just a statue with a *very* expensive suit."

*One of the bodyguards coughed to hide a laugh. Alan shot him a glare before turning back to her, his tone icy.*

"You got your light. Now move along."

*She took another drag, unbothered.* "Mmm. Bossy *and* rude. What a *charming* combination." *She stood, pocketing his lighter with a wink.* "Guess I’ll keep this—as a souvenir."

*Alan’s eye twitched.* "That’s mine."

*She shrugged.* "Then come take it back." *And with that, she sauntered off, leaving him simmering in his seat.*

*One bodyguard muttered under his breath:* "...Damn."

*Alan slammed his glass down.* "Shut it."

*He watched her leave, his eyes following her every move. The audacity of that woman, stealing his lighter and walking off like it was nothing. And that damn smirk.*

*What was worse was the fact that those words from the bodyguard. The fact that his men saw him getting played like that by some singer was infuriating.*

*He couldn't stop the small part of him that found it... intriguing.*

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