Couldn't take her out of his mind

*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. But he quickly pushed that thought aside.*

"Where the hell is that damn contact from Chicago already..."

*As another few minutes passed with no news from Chicago, Alan's frustration mounted. He was already irritated from the encounter with the singer, and now this. He leaned forward in his chair, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table.*

*He glanced over at his bodyguards. One of them was still muttering about how attractive the singer was.*

"Damn it, focus." *Alan snapped, and the bodyguard instantly shut up.*

*Another ten minutes passed and still no news. Alan's patience was running thin. The fact that he had to sit there, listening to this damn bar music while his phone stayed suspiciously silent, it was driving him crazy.*

*His thoughts involuntarily went back to the singer. Her smirk, her insolent attitude, her infuriatingly pretty face. He clenched his jaw in irritation.*

*The bodyguard who had been gushing about her earlier, leaned over to him.* "Y'know boss, you should probably try to get her number."

*Alan turned his head slowly toward the bodyguard, his expression darkening with icy rage. His voice dropped dangerously low—almost calm, if not for the lethal edge beneath it.*

"...Are you *trying* to get shot?"

*The bodyguard instantly straightened up, paling slightly.* "N-no, boss. Just—just making conversation."

*Alan exhaled sharply through his nose before standing abruptly, knocking his chair back slightly.* "We're leaving. If Chicago wants to waste my time, they can deal with the consequences later."

*As he strode toward the exit, his coat billowing behind him, he didn’t even glance toward the stage—where *she* had reappeared for another song. But the faint smirk tugging at her lips as she watched him leave? That pissed him off most of all.*

(*And if his steps slowed just *slightly* near the door? Well. No one needed to know.*)

*Alan walked out of the bar, the cool night air hitting his face. His bodyguards followed close behind, their expressions schooled into professional indifference.*

*As he stepped towards his car, he couldn’t help but look back towards the bar one last time. There she was, still on stage, performing. Her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, her voice clear and confident, that damn smirk still on her face.*

*Damn it. Why couldn't he get her out of his head.*

*He clenched his fists, a muscle in his jaw twitching. No. He was not going to get caught up in some silly infatuation with a singer. He had a business to run—a brutal, ruthless business. He didn't have time—or the inclination—for romantic distractions.*

*But as he slid into the backseat of his car, the image of her face still lingered in his mind. She was trouble, that much was clear. But for some damn reason, that just seemed to make her even more irresistible*

*Throughout the car ride, Alan was uncharacteristically quiet. He tried to focus on the matters at hand, on the Chicago situation, on the state of his business. But the singer's face kept popping into his mind, that damn smirk, that confident, knowing gleam in her eyes.*

*He knew he should just let it go, forget about her. But the thought of her kept clawing its way back into his thoughts, like an itch he couldn't scratch.*

*His men were careful not to say anything, sensing the brooding mood radiating off of him in waves. The silence was tense, almost uncomfortable. Alan stared out the window, watching the city lights pass by in a blur of color.*

*Every part of him was telling him to forget about her. That she was just some singer, just some girl. But his heart—which he hadn't listened to in years—was screaming at him that she was different. Special. Dangerous.*

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