RED LIPS
Cassy Rivera moved through the corridor of Rivera Corp like a blade—sharp, clean, and untouchable. Her heels clicked with the kind of authority that made employees step aside without a word. As the CEO of the country's fastest-rising luxury brand, she had no time for distractions, no space for weakness, and absolutely no patience for emotions.
People whispered that she had a heart made of glass—beautiful, cold, and impossible to fracture.
But if there was one thing people noticed first, it wasn't the cold aura.
It was her lips.
Red.
Bold.
Dangerous.
A warning sign.
A signature.
A shield.
To her, love was nothing more than a distraction—something she buried deep after losing too much too young.
But everything changed one evening.
---
THE ACCIDENT
Rain drenched the city, turning roads into glossy mirrors. Cassy had just finished a late board meeting when she stepped outside, umbrella in hand, ready to disappear into the night.
Then chaos exploded.
A black SUV sped toward her as men chased after it, shouting in a language she didn't recognize. Cassy froze for a split second—rare for her—before someone grabbed her wrist and yanked her out of the way.
She slammed into a firm chest.
A steady hand gripped her waist.
"Are you alright?" a deep voice asked.
She looked up.
The man was tall, with sharp jawlines, dark eyes, and an aura more dangerous than the rainstorm around them. He wore a black coat, drenched, but he looked completely unfazed—like the chaos was something he breathed every day.
"I'm fine," she replied coldly. "Let go."
He smirked faintly. "You're welcome."
Before she could walk away, gunshots echoed from the alley. Instinctively, the man shielded her, pushing her behind a pillar.
Cassy, annoyed, hissed, "I don't need protection—"
But his grip tightened.
"Tonight, you do."
When the gunfire stopped, the man escorted her toward her car.
"Who are you?" she asked.
He gave a slight bow, eyes glinting with interest.
"Jack. Jack Torres."
The name triggered recognition—a whispered rumor, a notorious presence in the shadows.
The Torres Mafia. Wealthy. Untouchable. Feared.
Cassy's jaw tightened. She did not deal with criminals.
"Thank you," she said stiffly, "but whatever world you're in, keep me out of it."
Jack chuckled softly.
"Too late, Red Lips. You're already involved."
Her eyes narrowed at the nickname, but before she could correct him, he was gone—swallowed by the night.
---
THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE
The next day, Cassy tried to forget the incident. She buried herself in meetings, presentations, and designs for Rivera Corp's new perfume line.
But when she entered her office, she froze.
A single red rose lay on her desk.
And a note:
"For the woman who didn't flinch at gunfire. —J.T."
Cassy crumpled the note, irritation bubbling.
The last thing she needed was attention from a mafia leader.
Unfortunately, attention was exactly what she got.
He started appearing everywhere.
At the lobby.
Outside her building.
At charity events she never expected him to attend.
Sometimes he said nothing, only staring at her with those unreadable eyes, as if she were a puzzle he intended to figure out.
Cassy hated unnecessary complications.
And Jack Torres was the definition of complication.
---
THE PICK-ME GIRL
Where Jack went, so did trouble.
Her name was Vivienne.
A socialite.
Pretty.
High-pitched voice.
Always clinging to Jack's sleeve like a kitten desperate to be adopted.
"Jack, babe, I picked a tie for you!"
"Jack, let's sit together!"
"Jack, don't talk to her. She's too serious."
Vivienne made sure everyone knew she liked Jack—loudly, dramatically, almost pathetically.
So when she saw Jack staring a little too long at Cassy during a gala night, Vivienne's smile faltered.
She approached Cassy with a sugary expression.
"Well, well, the famous CEO," she said. "I heard you had an incident with Jack. Must've been terrifying, right? You don't look like someone used to danger."
Cassy didn't even glance at her. "I'm used to bigger problems."
Vivienne scoffed. "Stay out of his way. Jack doesn't like… cold women."
Jack, who had been walking toward them, raised a brow.
"Vivienne," he said, voice low and annoyed, "stop talking."
Vivienne paled. But Cassy simply smirked at her before walking away—graceful, unaffected, and very obviously unbothered.
Vivienne's jealousy sparked like gasoline meeting fire.
---
THE MAN WHO NEVER FALLS FOR ANYONE
Jack Torres never chased women.
Women chased him.
They threw themselves at him—wanting his money, power, protection. But none of them mattered. He never looked twice at anyone.
Until Cassy Rivera.
The woman who pushed him away.
The woman who didn't tremble, didn't beg, didn't flirt.
The woman who stared at him like she could see straight through him—and found nothing impressive.
That irritated him.
But also intrigued him.
Jack was cold.
Cassy was colder.
No warmth.
No softness.
Only red lips and a stare sharper than a knife.
He wanted her.
Not as a possession—he had plenty of those.
He wanted her because she was the only one who didn't want him.
And that drove him insane.
---
COLLISION OF TWO COLD HEARTS
One night, Cassy stayed late at the office. She was reviewing designs when the lights flickered.
Power outage.
She stood to check the hallway, but found it dark and silent, except for footsteps approaching.
Cassy braced herself.
But it was Jack.
"Relax," he said. "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't turn off the lights first."
She glared. "Why are you here?"
He stepped closer, rain dripping from his hair and coat.
"To see you."
"I'm busy."
"I noticed. You work too much."
"It's my company. Of course I work."
He took another step.
"Have dinner with me."
"No."
He smirked. "You didn't even think about it."
"I don't need to."
"Cassy," he murmured, "why are you so afraid of letting anyone close?"
Her fists clenched. "I owe you nothing."
Jack's expression softened—just a little.
"I'm not asking for anything."
He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
Cassy froze.
His touch was warm.
Dangerously warm.
"I just want to know you," he said quietly.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Their cold personas melted just a fraction—two guarded hearts recognizing each other in the darkness.
But then Cassy stepped back.
"This is a mistake," she whispered.
Jack smiled.
"Then let me make more mistakes with you."
---
THE JEALOUS GIRL'S MOVE
Vivienne watched the growing tension between them with fury.
Cassy didn't flirt.
Cassy didn't try.
Cassy didn't even care.
And yet Jack kept looking at her.
Vivienne snapped.
One afternoon, she barged into Cassy's office.
"You think you're better than me?" Vivienne exploded. "You think Jack will ever choose a woman like you? Cold, boring, emotionless?"
Cassy barely looked at her. "Get out of my office."
Vivienne scoffed. "Fine. But remember this—I won't let you steal him."
When Vivienne slammed the door behind her, Cassy simply sighed, unimpressed.
But she didn't know Vivienne was planning something far worse.
---
THE KIDNAPPING
Two nights later, as Cassy left her building, a van pulled up beside her. She barely had time to react before a cloth was pressed over her mouth.
Darkness swallowed her.
When she woke, she was tied to a chair in an abandoned warehouse. Vivienne stood in front of her, trembling with rage.
"You should've left Jack alone," Vivienne hissed. "You don't belong in our world!"
Cassy stared at her coldly.
"You kidnapped me because a man refused to like you?"
Vivienne's face twisted in humiliation.
"Shut up!"
Before she could speak again, the warehouse doors burst open.
Gunshots.
Shouts.
Chaos.
Jack stormed in like a force of nature—eyes blazing, jaw tight, radiating murderous intent.
He ran straight to Cassy, cutting her ropes.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, voice shaking.
"No," she said calmly. "But you look like you want to kill someone."
"Because I do."
Vivienne screamed as Jack's men dragged her away.
Cassy touched his arm.
"Jack. Enough."
Those two words—soft, controlled—stopped him.
He looked at her, breath uneven.
"You scared the hell out of me," he admitted quietly.
Cassy held his gaze.
"You shouldn't care this much."
He cupped her face with both hands, his forehead touching hers.
"I tried not to," he whispered. "But I fell for you anyway."
Cassy exhaled, her cold heart shaking for the first time in years.
Slowly, she placed her hand over his—choosing him, even just a little.
"Jack…"
He waited.
"You're trouble," she murmured.
He smiled—the first genuine smile she had ever seen on him.
"So are you."
---
RED LIPS, RED DESTINY
From that night, things changed.
Cassy didn't magically become soft.
Jack didn't turn into a saint.
They were still cold.
Still stubborn.
Still dangerous together.
But every time Cassy walked beside him, people noticed something new.
Jack didn't smile—
Until he looked at her.
And Cassy didn't soften—
Until she looked at him.
Vivienne tried to win, to force, to fight.
But Cassy didn't need to.
Jack had already chosen.
Not the loud, desperate girl.
But the woman with red lips and a heart guarded by steel.
The only woman who could break him.
The only woman he wanted to protect.
The only woman who made his cold heart burn.
Cassy Rivera.
His Red Lips.
His equal.
His danger.
His fate.
---