Page 78 of Prodigal

André hiked a brow at that. “Is that a good idea?” he asked Gideon out of the corner of his mouth. “I mean, I’m pretty sure Ennis will shoot you the moment he sees your face.” And the thought had him ready to drag Gideon back into the vehicle and drive them far away.

If he was concerned, Gideon didn’t show it. Instead, he shrugged. “He can try.”

“Okay, stop.” André placed a hand on Gideon’s chest, glaring into his eyes. “You are not fucking bulletproof, nor are you invincible. Stop acting as if you’re not flesh and blood.” It terrified him how nonchalant Gideon was about his own safety.

“I’m fine.” Gideon wrapped an arm around his shoulder, gaze searching their surroundings before he dropped a quick kiss to André’s lips. “I know what I am,” he murmured. “And I know what I’m not. Your father can’t touch me. He knows better.”

André released a sigh. Maybe that kind of delusion came with being a Winters; he wouldn’t know. But he wouldn’t leave Gideon’s side, no matter what happened beyond those doors.

They held hands, just him and Gideon following Ennis’s men into the mansion. The outside might have been a monstrosity but the inside felt…like a home. As if an actual family lived there. And they had. Just not him. Not André. Resentment flared and he swallowed the bitterness as their footfalls echoed on pristine white floors. Proof of Ennis’s wealth was everywhere—in the oil paintings and gold chandeliers.

Hell, even the painted walls looked like money.

“You okay?”

He nodded at Gideon’s question but didn’t look at the other man. He just might break down. He just might turn around and walk out, never looking back, always hating the man who didn’t raise him.

They were led to an office, its door already open, and waved in. Gideon entered first. Then André. The door closed behind him as he met the back of the man who’d fathered him.

Ennis stood at a window, staring out at his expansive and perfectly manicured grounds, a hand in the pocket of his dark slacks. Guess he was feeling better. André tore his gaze off the older man to study his surroundings. The office was just like everything else in his father’s house: enormous. Furnished in rich supple leather and black. Lots of plaques and paintings.

Pictures all over the walls of Ennis and people André recognized, like his dead wife and his dead daughter. Other members of The Council, billionaire businessmen, and foreign dignitaries.

None of André, though.

And why had he expected anything else?

“You have some fucking nerve.” Ennis moved away from the window, facing them with a scowl. “You come into my home after all the shit you did?” he spat at Gideon, who regarded him with an impassive expression. “You think you’re untouchable?”

“He’s not,” André answered. “Youjust can’t touch him.”

Ennis turned to him. “You need to get away from him. He’s not good for you.”

André shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I’m the one who gets to decide, not you.” He glanced around. “Now, this isn’t a social call. We have things to discuss.”

Ennis held his gaze for a beat, then barked out a laugh. “You sound like him.” He shook his head, expression mournful. “Wow.”

Sounding like Gideon was a good thing in André’s opinion, so he ignored Ennis’s words. “Joseph Morrow is on his way off The Council.” He got down to business. “Alexander Grant will be taking his place; you just need to present the offer to him.”

Ennis blinked at him. “What?”

“You need?—”

Ennis slashed a hand through the air, waving away his words. “That’s not you. Telling people what to do is his role.” He jabbed a finger in Gideon’s direction. “What, suddenly you’re doing his work for him?”

“I couldmakeyou do what I want.” Gideon spoke for the first time. “But I was trying to help you save face in front of your son. Get Alexander to agree to take Morrow’s seat.”

“You can’t make me do shit,” Ennis told him, eyes narrowed. “You think?—”

“Maybe he can’t,” André said, cutting him off. “But I can. I hear you and Alexander run in the same circles, so you shouldn’t have any problems getting him to agree to what we want by this time tomorrow.”

Ennis straightened, folding his arms as he stared at André as if truly seeing him for the first time. He moved gingerly, André realized, likely still dealing with the effects of being ambushed and shot. The one where his daughter sent men to kill him. He still had her up on his walls and still showcased her everywhere, though. And where were his pictures of André? Hidden in a box in some dark basement?

If he even had any.

“You’re really embracing this new life, aren’t you?” Ennis eyed him up and down. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I’m your son, aren’t I?” André challenged him. “Some would say I was born into this life.” He felt Gideon’s gaze on him, his lover’s pride and love and satisfaction. And that urged André to be bolder. “What I don’t know, I’ll learn.” A smile graced hislips, and he couldn’t help glancing at Gideon. “I have the best teacher.”

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