Luke barely had time to react.
One second he was leaning against the bar, a lazy smirk on his lips as he reached for his drink—
The next, a firm hand wrapped around his waist and yanked him back.
Hard.
"Hey—"
His words cut off as his balance shifted, his body pulled into something solid behind him.
Leonardo.
Luke turned quickly, brows furrowing, irritation flickering across his face. "What was that for—"
"You should be smarter than that."
The tone stopped him.
Low. Controlled. Sharp.
Luke blinked once, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
Leonardo's hand lingered for a second longer before letting go, but the tension didn't disappear with it. His eyes stayed fixed on Luke, cold and focused in a way that immediately put him on edge.
"Be aware of your surroundings," Leonardo added quietly.
Luke frowned. "I am aware—"
"No," Leonardo interrupted, voice just a fraction colder. "You're distracted."
That hit.
Luke's jaw tightened slightly, annoyance rising—but before he could respond, Leonardo's attention shifted past him.
Slowly, Luke followed his gaze.
Back to her.
She hadn't moved much.
Still sitting there like she owned the space, like nothing in the world could touch her unless she allowed it. One leg crossed over the other, glass resting lightly in her hand, her posture relaxed—but deliberate.
Her eyes met Luke's again.
And this time—
There was no softness in them.
Only something sharp.
Something dangerous.
Leonardo stepped forward, placing himself just slightly between them—not enough to block the view, but enough to shift the control of the moment.
He exhaled quietly, almost tired.
"You really can't help yourself, can you?" he said flatly.
The woman tilted her head, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
"I don't know what you mean," she replied smoothly.
Leonardo let out a short breath, clearly unimpressed.
"You've already taken out almost every assistant I've had," he said. "Do you really need to add another one to your list?"
Luke froze.
The words didn't register at first.
Then they did.
Slowly.
Taken out.
Assistant.
List.
Luke's eyes flicked back to her, really looking this time—taking in every detail, every movement, every tiny expression he had ignored before.
And suddenly—
Everything made sense.
The calm.
The control.
The way she didn't try to stand out—because she didn't need to.
Leonardo sighed, rubbing his temple briefly before speaking again.
"Luke," he said, his tone shifting slightly, "this is Violet."
A small pause.
"The most dangerous assassin you'll ever meet."
Silence fell.
For once—
Luke had nothing to say.
Violet, on the other hand, looked almost amused.
"Only 'most'?" she said, placing a hand lightly against her chest. "I thought I ranked higher than that."
Before Luke could even process that—
She moved.
Fast. Effortless.
Closing the distance between her and Leonardo like it meant nothing.
Her arm slipped around his shoulders casually, like it belonged there.
Luke's eyes widened slightly.
And then—
She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss against Leonardo's cheek.
Soft. Familiar.
Too familiar.
"Oh," she said playfully, her voice light as she glanced at Luke, "aren't you going to tell him we're engaged?"
Luke blinked.
Once.
Twice.
"Wait—what?"
Leonardo's reaction was instant.
His expression darkened, annoyance flashing clearly across his face as he grabbed her wrist—not harsh, but firm—and pushed her off him.
"Not happening," he said flatly.
Violet only smiled wider, completely unfazed.
"You say that every time," she teased.
Luke looked between them, trying to process everything at once.
"Hold on," he said slowly, "you two are actually—"
"Not by choice," Leonardo cut in immediately.
His tone was sharper now, like he didn't even want the idea spoken out loud.
"My father gave me options," he continued, glancing briefly at Luke before looking away. "I can choose who I marry."
A pause.
"But if I don't…"
He didn't finish.
He didn't have to.
Luke raised a brow, glancing at Violet again. "…you get stuck with her?"
Violet gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest.
"Stuck?" she repeated. "That's so rude."
Leonardo didn't even look at her.
"I'm twenty," he said instead, his voice calmer now. "I have time."
Luke blinked again, clearly surprised.
"Twenty?"
Leonardo shot him a quick look. "Problem?"
Luke hesitated, then shook his head. "No… just didn't expect that."
Because it didn't make sense.
Leonardo carried himself like someone older. More experienced. More in control.
And yet—
Luke was twenty-three.
Older.
But somehow, it didn't feel that way.
And that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
The tension didn't leave after that.
It just shifted into something quieter.
More dangerous.
They stayed near the bar, the three of them caught in a strange balance.
Violet leaned back against the counter, completely relaxed, like nothing in the world could touch her.
Luke stayed nearby, more careful now—watching her in a way he hadn't before.
And Leonardo?
He watched both of them.
Constantly.
"So," Violet said after a moment, glancing at Luke, "you're the new assistant."
Luke smirked slightly, recovering. "That obvious?"
She hummed softly. "You're still alive."
Luke let out a small laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You shouldn't," she replied calmly.
As the night went on, the music got louder, the lights dimmer, and the air heavier.
Drinks kept coming.
And Luke—
For once—
Let himself slip.
Just a little.
One drink turned into two.
Then three.
Then more.
Violet matched him easily, her tolerance just as high, if not higher.
Their conversation grew looser, more playful, more reckless.
"You're not what I expected," Luke admitted at one point, leaning slightly closer.
Violet raised a brow. "And what did you expect?"
"Someone colder," he said.
She smiled faintly. "You haven't seen that part yet."
Leonardo stood off to the side, completely sober.
Watching.
He didn't drink.
Didn't smoke.
Didn't lose control.
And right now—
It showed.
Because while Luke and Violet blurred into the chaos—
Leonardo stayed sharp.
Every detail.
Every movement.
Every shift in tone.
By the end of the night, it was obvious.
Luke was drunk.
Not completely out of control—but enough that his guard had lowered, his movements slower, his thoughts less filtered.
Violet?
Just as bad.
She leaned against the bar, laughing quietly, her usual precision softened by the alcohol.
Leonardo exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple.
"This was a mistake," he muttered.
Neither of them heard him.
Or maybe—
They just didn't care.