All Chapters of The CEO's Regret: Mommy's Return With Secret Triplets: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

For the first time in his entirely violent, chaotic life, the King of the American underworld was completely at peace.It had been exactly two weeks since the freezing harbor. Two weeks since Dante Romano was locked inside a federal maximum security cell, his Italian syndicate completely and utterly bankrupted by the woman currently sleeping in Lucian's bed. There were no more sirens. No more heavily armed blockades. The massive, reinforced steel shutters of the Sterling tower remained permanently open, allowing the brilliant, golden morning sun to completely flood the sprawling master suite.Lucian stood at the edge of the floor to ceiling glass, holding a heavy ceramic mug of black coffee. He was wearing only a pair of dark, low-slung suit trousers, his broad, heavily scarred chest bare to the sunlight.He looked down at the glittering expanse of New York City, and for the first time, he didn't see a battlefield. He saw a kingdom he had successfully secured for his family.A soft, m

High above the chaotic, flashing lights of the financial district, the sprawling, gilded drawing room of the Kensington estate was completely, terrifyingly silent.Eleanor Kensington sat perfectly still on a massive, antique velvet sofa. She held a crystal flute of imported champagne in her manicured hand, her cold, calculating green eyes locked onto the eighty inch flat screen mounted above the marble fireplace.The live news broadcast was playing on a continuous loop."...officially be my wife. Anyone who bets against her, bets against me. And I do not lose."Eleanor watched the feral, utterly untouchable American billionaire slide a ten carat diamond onto the finger of the pale, dark haired woman. The champagne flute in Eleanor's hand trembled slightly, not from fear, but from a deeply rooted, aristocratic rage."Turn it off," Eleanor commanded, her voice sharp and brittle like shattering glass.A uniformed servant immediately muted the television.Eleanor stood up, her custom Chan

The heavy, frosted glass doors of the master dressing room slid completely open.Lucian stood by the floor to ceiling windows of the penthouse, his broad, heavily corded shoulders wrapped impeccably in a bespoke, pitch black Tom Ford tuxedo. He was adjusting the heavy platinum cufflinks at his wrists, his jaw locked in a rigid line of absolute, simmering tension. He hated the suits. He hated the cameras. He hated the fact that he was voluntarily walking his wife into a room filled with aristocratic predators.He turned around, the feral complaint completely dying in his throat.Zara stepped out of the dressing room, and the entire world instantly, violently stopped spinning.She wasn't wearing the understated, conservative pastels favored by the old money establishment. She was wearing a custom designed, liquid midnight silk gown that clung flawlessly to every single curve of her body. The dress featured a plunging, structured neckline and a dangerously high slit up the thigh, project

The morning sun poured heavily through the floor to ceiling glass of the Sterling penthouse, illuminating the absolute destruction of the master suite.The liquid midnight silk gown was pooled carelessly on the imported rug, completely abandoned. Lucian's bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo jacket was draped over a velvet armchair, his expensive tie discarded somewhere near the heavy mahogany dresser. The psychological slaughter Zara had executed at the Royal Arts Gala had fueled an entirely feral, consuming fire between them that burned well into the dawn.Lucian lay on his back in the center of the massive, tangled king sized bed. The thick white duvet was pushed down to his waist, exposing the heavy, corded muscles of his chest and the dark, fading scars of his violent past.Zara was curled flawlessly against his side, the sheer, pale silk of the sheets wrapped securely around her bare shoulders. She traced the harsh line of his collarbone with her manicured fingertips, her icy blue eyes watch

The Crystal Pavilion at the Plaza Hotel was an opulent, sprawling monument to high society excess.Massive, cascading chandeliers dripped with thousands of imported diamonds, casting a brilliant, blinding light over the annual Global Charities Gala. The room was packed with the wealthiest, most arrogant old money families on the eastern seaboard, their hushed, frantic whispers buzzing like a hive of cornered hornets.They weren't talking about the charity auction. They were talking about the Astor Estate.The news had completely shattered the elite social hierarchy just hours before the gala. Vivienne Kensington hadn't just failed to cancel the Sterling wedding; she had inadvertently handed a three hundred year old historical landmark entirely over to a woman they had desperately tried to label as a "new money hostage."When the heavy, gilded doors of the Pavilion swung open, the entire ballroom went terrifyingly silent.Lucian and Zara didn't walk into the room; they completely conqu