Kanyan (Gatti Enforcers #1)

25. Lula

25

LULA

T he dining room hums with low chatter and the clink of glasses as we step inside. It’s nothing like the last time I was here. The new hotel gleams with elegance, its grand chandelier casting warm light across the room. But what grabs my attention more than the opulence is the thick layer of security. Men in dark suits stand stationed at key points, their eyes sharp as they scan every inch of the space. It’s impossible to ignore them.

Tonight, I’m wrapped in a long midnight-blue cocktail dress, the silky fabric catching the light with every step, creating a soft, mesmerizing shimmer. Rosemarie picked it out for me, and I’ve never worn anything so elegant, so breathtaking. The way it hugs my frame makes me feel beautiful in a way I never have before, and the deep blue hue makes my eyes stand out, brighter and more alive than ever. For once, I almost believe I belong in this world of glamour.

I glance up at Kanyan, and his hand finds the small of my back, a steadying gesture that makes me feel tethered, even in this storm of luxury and tension. “Why so much security?” I ask softly, trying to sound casual.

“Let’s just say we’re not taking any chances,” Kanyan murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. “Not when tonight’s guest list is so... exclusive.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and I know better than to push. Still, my curiosity simmers. There’s a weight to the air in this room, something unspoken but powerful. The way the men at the table greet one another—firm handshakes, subtle nods—speaks of respect earned through something much heavier than casual friendship.

Kanyan leads me to the long table where a group of people sits. As we approach, curious eyes turn to us, and my heart does a little flip. They’re watching me, assessing me.

“Lula,” Kanyan says, his deep voice commanding attention as he gestures toward the table. “I want you to meet some people.”

A man with dark hair slicked back, dressed in a tailored suit, stands first. His presence is magnetic, his sharp eyes scanning me like he’s reading every thought in my head. He introduces him as Scar Gatti, who I know is a local successful businessman who owns this beautiful hotel. His wife, Allegra, rises beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. Allegra is stunning, with an effortless grace that makes me feel awkward in comparison.

“Welcome,” Allegra says warmly, her smile genuine. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I blink in surprise, unsure what Kanyan could’ve shared, but Allegra’s kindness puts me a little at ease.

Scar offers a brief nod, his voice gruff. “Kanyan’s a lucky man.”

“Don’t scare her, Scar,” a woman further down the table interjects, smirking as she swirls the wine in her glass. Her dark hair gleams under the light, and her sharp brown eyes are playful. “He means well, I promise. I’m Jacklyn.”

“Don’t let Jacklyn fool you,” Kanyan mutters under his breath, earning a laugh from the table. “She’s more kickass than any man at this table.”

Everyone’s laughter softens the atmosphere, and I allow myself to breathe a little.

A blond-haired woman leans forward next, her expression kind but measured. She has an air of quiet strength, like she’s used to standing her ground. “I’m Mia,” she says, her tone calm. “It’s nice to meet you, Lula. I don’t know why Kanyan’s been hiding you from us! We’re going to be great friends, I can tell.”

He introduces me to more of his friends, some from Seattle, and I can’t help but notice how similar they all are—not just in the way they carry themselves, but in their sheer size. Each man towers over the room, their presence commanding attention without even trying. It’s as if they were all cut from the same mold: broad shoulders, sharp eyes, and an aura of authority that makes them feel larger than life.

I smile shyly as we sit, and Kanyan’s hand brushes mine under the table as if to reassure me. I can feel the tension in my chest loosening as the women draw me into their dynamic. They’re all so different, but the bond between them is clear. There’s a warmth to the way they interact, a closeness that makes me feel like an outsider and a welcome guest all at once.

Allegra leans closer, her voice soft. “Don’t worry, it takes time to get used to this world. But you’ll find your footing.”

I glance at Kanyan, who’s deep in conversation with Scar about something I don’t quite catch. When he looks at me, though, his eyes soften.

Scar, seated at the head of the long table with his wife Allegra beside him, doesn’t let her out of his sight. His hand rests protectively on hers, but his sharp gaze darts constantly around the room. Kanyan sits next to me, a solid, brooding presence whose mere existence seems to scream a warning.

Kanyan’s hand brushes against my thigh under the table. I glance at him, and he leans in close, his voice low. “You’re too quiet.”

“I’m paying attention,” I whisper back, keeping my tone light.

“Good.” His lips quirk into the ghost of a smile.

“Your friends are amazing,” I whisper, as I lean into him. “The women are so friendly.”

“I’m glad you like them. You’ll be seeing a lot more of them, little dancer.”

His nickname for me curls around my heart and spreads outward. I love that he chose the name and decided to run with it and it’s something just for us.

“How does…”

The words die in my throat as the room plunges into sudden darkness, and for a moment, the only sound is the clatter of silverware hitting plates as people freeze mid-bite. My breath catches in my throat. The chandelier overhead, which had been casting golden light across the room, is nothing but a shadow now.

“What the hell?” someone mutters nearby, the panic starting to ripple through the air.

I grip the edge of the table, trying to orient myself, but the dark feels endless, swallowing everything whole. Then the shouting starts.

“Stay calm!” Scar’s voice booms across the chaos, but calm is the last thing anyone in the room feels. Chairs scrape against the floor as people scramble to their feet.

“The backup generator!” Someone yells. “Why didn’t it kick in?”

It’s as if those words have a life of their own as a sudden silence falls upon the room.

I can barely see Kanyan, but his presence is like a lifeline beside me. His hand grabs mine, firm and steady. “Stay close to me,” he orders, pulling me to stand.

“What’s going on?” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“I don’t know,” he says, tension thick in his voice. “But something’s wrong.”

I hear him talking to someone and realize he’s on the phone; telling whoever is on the other end of the line that the hotel’s backup generator should’ve kicked in by now. It’s designed for situations like this.

But nothing happens—no hum of power, no faint glow of emergency lights. There’s just darkness.

Phones start lighting up the room, their small screens cutting through the pitch black. The pale glow reveals shadows moving frantically, people bumping into one another in the confusion.

“Allegra!” Scar’s voice is raw with fear, and it cuts through the noise like a blade. “Where’s Allegra?”

Kanyan turns toward the sound, his grip on my hand tightening.

“She went to the bathroom, didn’t she?” It’s one of the women I met earlier, but I can’t place the voice; they’re still new to me.

“Yes!” Scar snaps, his footsteps pounding across the marble floor. “She should’ve been back by now!”

I can hear the panic in his voice, the raw edge of it making my stomach twist. Kanyan moves us toward the wall, his body shielding mine. I can feel the tension radiating off him like heat, his free hand brushing against his jacket, where I know he keeps his gun.

“Scar, don’t lose your head,” Kanyan shouts into the chaos. “It’s dark there; she’s probably waiting for someone to go and get her.”

But even as he says it, I can feel the doubt creeping in. The bathroom isn’t far from the ballroom. Allegra would’ve tried to make it back, even in the dark.

“Kanyan,” I whisper, my throat dry.

“Stay close to me, Lula.” His voice is sharp but protective. “Do not wander off, no matter what.”

Scar is shouting orders now, his voice growing hoarse as he commands his men to spread out and search the hotel. “Light the way with your phones! Check every room, every corner. Now!”

The ballroom is pure chaos. Guests are yelling over one another, the fear and confusion palpable. A woman stumbles past us, clutching her phone like a lifeline. Glass shatters somewhere in the distance, the sound sharp and jarring.

“Allegra!” Scar’s voice is closer now, desperate. “She’s gone! She’s not in the bathroom. She’s not anywhere!”

Kanyan stiffens beside me, his grip on my hand almost painful. I can feel his mind working, his instincts kicking in. “Fuck!” he mutters, and that’s the moment that I know we’re in deep trouble.

This must have been planned. The thoughts hits me like a slap, and my chest tightens. Someone took Allegra.

Kanyan’s face is barely visible in the faint glow of his phone, but his eyes are fierce as he pulls me to a group of men congregating in a circle, their phones lighting their faces. I can feel the fear radiating off him, lurking beneath his determination. I can feel it in the way his hand shakes slightly as he pulls me closer, keeping me firmly behind him as if to shield me from whatever darkness is closing in around us.

Throughout the room, the search intensifies. Men bark orders, their voices echoing in the cavernous space. Phones swing wildly, casting shifting shadows on the walls. But it’s clear no one knows where to look.

Scar’s roar of frustration reverberates through the room. “Where the hell is my wife?”

I clutch Kanyan’s arm, the weight of it all sinking in. Allegra is gone, vanished into the dark without a trace. It becomes increasingly apparent that someone’s take her; someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

My heart races. I’m frozen for a moment, watching as Scar’s rage explodes, his fists slamming into the table. Allegra, so poised and graceful just moments ago, is gone. How did this happen? This wasn’t just some random act. How did they get past security? How did they know we’d be here tonight?

Kanyan barks orders, his voice cutting through the panic, and I force myself to move, to think. But one thought consumes me: whoever took Allegra didn’t take her just to give her back.