Lucien Lachance Novels & Stories

I ask Luke because I’m so certain that we have met before. Luke bursts into laughing. Why is he laughing at me? Did I say something funny? “And why is a high school kid asking me if we have met before?” Luke asks me ironically. There’s no need to be rude. I just want to know who he is. Is he so important that I cannot ask who he is? “Ignore him. My father owns the biggest ranch, and my family runs it. We sell organic beef and other stuff. Even livestock.” Justin explains to me.

--- Far away, Lucien Moreau watched the conference from a private jet. He smiled. And made one final call. > "Move forward with the acquisition." "It's time they both learn what legacy really costs."

“Now that we’re bound in one string, your enemies become ours. Arrogant dogs, thinking they can bite the lions.” “They tried to seize my eastern territory.” Killian scoffed sharply with disdain. “When they failed, they set their sights on my southern route. And still, they lost. Pathetic.” His smirk was sharp and merciless. Alessandro was quite impressed. He leaned forward slightly. Curiosity sharpened his gaze. “Lucien Moreau.. you never mentioned how you know Killian Salvatore.” Lucien leaned back slightly, “That’s right. You know the former king of Spain? Albert Davis. He was close to my grandfather. Years back, he sent Killian Salvatore to France. During that time, we trained together. H

Emily's POV I gave a snorted laugh. “I’m not sure I am. I just haven’t given him a reason to throw me out yet.” Lucien studied me for a moment before returning his attention to the pan. “He does seem different with you,” he said. “I’ve known him for twenty-two years. He has zero patience for incompetence… yet I heard he spared you after you fed him garlic.” He lowered the burner and turned to face me. “You wouldn’t want to know what he did to the last chef who made that mistake.”

Lia: Luna Isobel walked us to the door herself. She did not touch Marcel, nor did she try to prolong the farewell. But her eyes lingered on him, not searching, not demanding. Just grateful. “I’m glad you both came,” she said quietly. “I know that you might not have wanted to, but thank you for coming.” Marcel inclined his head once. Nothing more. But it was more than he had given her in months. She turned to me next, her expression softening. “Rest well. And eat. Your body is going to be burning a lot more in the next few months, and you are going to need to allow it the nourishment that it needs.”

“ I do not think we have met. My name is Brianna Lucchese Trentineo. “ I repeated the same name I had given her father. She didn’t want to shake my hand but she had no choice. Lucchese was a feared name worldwide. I wanted to assert my dangerous nature so she wouldn’t try messing with me. Her father was nothing compared to mine. I wasn’t bragging. She shook my hand and when she let go, she put it on Nikolai’s arm again. “ I would appreciate it if you removed your hand from my husband. It is disrespectful and I do not take disrespect lightly. We Luccheses are like that. “ I said in a calm tone.

Nic looked at me and I hated that I was thinking about the cabin, which meant my face was not as serious as it should have been. I nodded to avoid them staring too long. "You need to tell us everything." "Ok. Fatty is my boss." he held onto the wound on his thigh that was gushing blood and at that rate, He would die from the wound infection than from any bullet I was going to shoot him with. "Does fatty have a real name?" He blinked once, twice and I stepped closer, catching a whiff of something unpleasant from him. "Finn Connolly. But we all call him fatty, everyone calls him fatty."

"I—" "Sorry doesn’t change the fact that you’re late," Madame Varna interrupted, her eyes narrowing. "Again. This is becoming a habit, Lune, and I’m running a business here, not a charity. Do you think the fabric will weave itself?" Lune swallowed hard, feeling the sting of guilt. She had been distracted, but explaining that to Madame Varna felt pointless. The older woman had no interest in excuses, only results. "I know," Lune mumbled, casting her gaze downward. "It won't happen again."

the man asked, confused. “Oh, I guess I should let you know,” Lucien said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “That chopper is the final scene, it’s going to burn everything down even your legacies, and before this day ends, you’ll be nothing but a memory. You were no longer the Mafia king. I am.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against the man’s ear. But his words brought a menacing chill, the man’s eyes widened, and his veins caught in fear.

Nothing but child’s play to them. And yet, Maribel was desperate. Desperate enough to run straight to the one person who could destroy her. Alaric’s lips curled into a slow, calculating smile. She had no idea she had already lost. As soon as the door closed behind her, Alaric reached for his phone. He pressed a single button. Lucien Bellamy. A businessman by day, the owner of L'Étoile Nocturne, the most exclusive club in Country F. But that was just a mask. In reality, Lucien was an intelligence officer, one of the best trackers in the world. Maribel thought she was slipping away unseen. She was wrong.