Chapter 12

12

"Gideon!"

André's head shot up at his sister's loud greeting, just in time to watch as Gideon entered the kitchen. Gideon's gaze zeroed in on him even as he greeted Jules.

"Miss Juliette. Good morning." He stared at André.

André stared back.

This was the first time they were seeing each other face-to-face since Gideon left André's room early last evening. He'd left to handle some business according to what André had overheard Gideon and Samir discussing.

But Gideon looked as if he hadn't slept. And he still wore the clothes he'd been wearing when André watched him get into his helicopter yesterday. Of course, Gideon had no clue André had made his way onto his roof to watch him depart, and André preferred it that way. Besides, something about the cold hardness in Gideon's eyes didn't lend itself to confessions.

Where had he gone? Who had he spent the night with if he looked as if he hadn't been to bed yet?

André didn't want to know because it was none of his business . He tore his gaze from Gideon's and focused on the cream cheese-stuffed French toast topped with fresh berries and from-scratch whipped cream the chef had made for breakfast. He would miss the food when he finally left this place. Every meal was something decadent and mouthwatering.

Gideon walked past their table to the fridge, and though André's head was bent, his attention on his plate, he felt Gideon's presence like his breath was on the back of his neck, hot and shiver-inducing. He recalled the kiss they'd shared and his taste buds watered, food forgotten.

"You look tired." Jules broke the thick silence, addressing Gideon. "You should sleep."

Gideon made a sound—could've been a snort. "Yes, I should." His voice was strained, heavy in a way that had André lifting his head before he'd had the chance to think about what he was doing.

Gideon wasn't looking at him.

And was André happy or sad about that?

Their host's gaze remained unfocused as he stared down into the glass of orange juice in his hand.

"Mister Winters." The chef came out of one of the huge, fully stocked pantries. There were three of them. Three! "Would you like some breakfast, sir? I can?—"

"No, thank you." Gideon shook his head. "I'm not hungry." He downed the juice, then put the glass in the sink and turned away, heading for the door.

Something about the set of his shoulders—which André only noticed because he couldn't help staring at Gideon's back—about the way he walked… Something was going on.

"I'll be back," André told Jules as he pushed his chair back and stood. "Gideon." He raced after the other man, catching up to him in the hallway outside the kitchen. "Gideon, wait."

"Go back to your breakfast." Gideon didn't look at him, nor did he slow down. He just kept on walking.

André matched his strides. "What's going on? Why do you look like…that?"

"Like what?" Nothing in Gideon's tone invited conversation, but André kept pushing.

"Did something happen?" When Gideon didn't answer, André grabbed him by the upper arm, forcing him to stop. "What's going on?"

Gideon's gaze slid slowly, dramatically, to where André held him, then to André's face. Heat washed over André's body, starting at his face—embarrassment mixed with the potent attraction he suspected he would always be experiencing for Gideon.

"You should return to your sister. You looked as if you were enjoying your breakfast."

He had been, but André didn't respond to that comment. Instead, he firmed his jaw. "Tell me what happened and then I'll leave you alone."

Gideon lifted a brow. "Why do you want to know?"

That question fell between them, bloated with more than just the single question Gideon voiced. "I just—" André shrugged. "I just want to be here for you." As much as he berated himself for feeling the way he did for Gideon, for wanting him, he did.

Gideon stared at him.

"Please?"

"There's nothing you can do." Gideon turned away and resumed walking. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

"So you're just gonna walk away?" André didn't put any effort into hiding the hurt in his voice, and Gideon stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him, eyes flashing.

"Why should I share any more than I have to with you?" he asked as he closed the distance between them. "You've made it clear you want away from me."

André blinked up into his eyes.

"What you're asking from me is unfair and you know it."

What the fuck? "Don't act as if you don't know where my responses stem from," André responded. "But if?—"

"G." Samir's call, and footsteps, came from the opposite direction, and André turned toward it, falling back a step when Samir came into view.

The entire front of his white shirt was covered in a dried brownish-red substance.

"What the fuck?" The question squeezed past André's tight throat and came out soft and trembling. "Is that blood?" And was he also wearing the clothes he had on when they left yesterday?

Samir didn't even look at him. "The doc is finished," he murmured to Gideon. "He wants to see you."

The two of them began walking away, moving at a breakneck pace. André hurried after them.

"G." Samir nudged Gideon with an elbow as they stopped in front of a door.

"I know," Gideon murmured. Then he glanced over his shoulder as the door opened on its own to reveal…an elevator. "Come on."

What the fuck? The penthouse already had an elevator. André had used it last night to get to the roof. But there was also a secret elevator? André gaped as the two men got on and waited for him to do the same. He stepped inside the space that was large enough to resemble a freight elevator. "This is— You have?—"

"Yep." Samir was the one to speak, but André just stared at Gideon, who wasn't looking at him. "Where you're about to go, and what you're about to see, is not to be shared. Not with anyone ," Samir stressed. "Not even your sister." He paused, and when André didn't speak, he asked, "You got me?"

"Yeah. Yeah." André bobbed his head in a nod. "I got you." Where the hell was he about to go? What was he about to see? And why wasn't Gideon looking at him or speaking? He just stood there in silence, facing the elevator doors.

André pressed his lips together. He'd wanted to know what was going on; this was his chance. The elevator stopped after a few minutes, and the doors opened into what looked like a completely different place. At first glance, it didn't appear as if they were still in Gideon's penthouse.

André's brow furrowed as Gideon stepped out first. When André went to exit, Samir extended an arm out against André's chest, blocking him from moving.

"He might trust you," he told André grimly, "but the jury's still out for me."

André swallowed around the dryness in his throat and kept his gaze averted from the blood on Samir's clothes. "I won't betray him." Fear had his voice weak and thready. He didn't doubt Samir could do unspeakable violence to him if André got on his bad side.

Samir grunted. "We'll see." He dropped his hand, motioning for André to get out.

He couldn't leave that elevator fast enough. He breathed deeply and glanced around. They were in a hallway, with several closed doors, and Gideon was nowhere to be seen.

"To your left," Samir instructed.

André hung back, allowing him to take the lead but following closely. What was that warning about? Apprehension slithered down his spine as he followed Samir. Had he made a mistake following them? Where were they taking him? Fuck, what if this whole thing was a mistake and he was only realizing it now when it was already too late? Goddamn it, when it came to Gideon Winters, André just couldn't make smart decisions.

Samir's strides slowed, and André did the same as they turned another corner. Masked men in balaclavas, carrying huge guns, lined the length of the carpeted hallway. He counted ten before they arrived at the only door, the one that was being guarded.

What the fuck was happening?

Who was behind that door?

One of the men nodded at Samir and opened the door for him. Samir entered. André took a deep breath and did the same.

It was a fucking medical unit.

Men and women in scrubs and surgical masks were hustling about, and medical machines were beeping. It smelled like a hospital—felt like it too. André blinked. The place was—it was set up like the real thing. A small manned nurses' station was off to his right, and six chairs and a set of vending machines made up a waiting area to his left. A heavy curtain cut off line of sight directly in front of him, so he didn't know what else was going on, but…

He glanced at Samir and found the other man watching him.

"Follow me." Samir headed for the heavy curtain, drawing it back. Rooms were partitioned off, like triage in an emergency room. André made out five of them. Four of the obvious hospital beds were empty, and machines sat dark and silent. But the curtain was drawn on the fifth, and André made out voices coming from there, almost drowned out by the loudly beeping machines.

His heart thudded.

Someone was in that bed.

Samir headed there, ducking under the curtain. André bit his lip, wondering if he should follow. Someone came out wearing a white lab coat, a stethoscope around his neck, a tablet in hand. A doctor. Then another person. This one was decked out as if she was about to go perform surgery. Or had just come from performing surgery. They nodded at André and left.

Then Gideon poked his head out from behind the curtain. "André."

André's feet moved, one in front of the other. Until he was inside the room, standing in the middle of Gideon and Samir, staring down at a man on the bed. He was hooked up to so many machines and a breathing mask covered his nose and mouth.

Despite all the tubes covering him everywhere, André was still able to recognize him. There was no missing who that man was.

How did his father come to be here, in Gideon Winters's secret hospital, clearly fighting for his life?

"What the fuck?" André's voice was a shocked whisper. "What is this?"

Samir met Gideon's eye, and Gideon didn't have to ask to know what his friend was thinking—he didn't want them to involve André. Samir thought he was a liability and couldn't be fully trusted. Gideon wasn't of the same mind, but maybe that was because he had a different kind of interest in André.

Either way, standing at the foot of Ennis Canto's bed wasn't the proper place for them to have any kind of deep discussion.

"Gideon." André grabbed him. "What?—"

"Don't touch him." Samir stepped forward, but Gideon slashed a look in his friend's direction, stopping him in his tracks. He ignored the exasperated expression on Samir's face and turned to André.

"Ennis was almost assassinated tonight."

André turned ashen. His hand fell away from Gideon and he stepped back. "By you?"

Samir snorted.

Gideon cocked his head, holding André's stare as he asked, "What if it was?"

André's lips parted. "What? Are you?—"

"Answer the question." Because André had been demanding things earlier. He wanted Gideon to share shit with him, but he was also planning to leave at the first opportunity. So what would Gideon be left with? Did André even trust him? He didn't know the answer to that question. "What if I had been the one behind the attempt on your father's life? What would you do then?"

André's Adam's apple shifted on a deep swallow, and Gideon hated himself for the way his gaze clung to that movement.

"Is that a yes? Are you the one who tried to kill my—to kill Ennis?"

Gideon released a harsh laugh. "Your father , yes. That's who he is." He stepped closer, into André's space. "Answer the fucking question," he gritted out. "If I'm responsible, what would your next move be, huh? You try to avenge him?" He dipped his head in the direction of the bed. "You leave and take your sister out into possible danger? You try to get the authorities involved? Tell me."

"G." Samir's tone held a warning as his hand landed on Gideon's shoulder, but Gideon shrugged him off.

André glared at him and Gideon glared right back, and when André turned around and strode out, Gideon followed him.

"Answer me."

"Fuck off."

Gideon caught up with him in the hallway, grabbing his arm and yanking him to a stop. "Earlier you wanted me to share my shit with you. Remember that?" Ignoring the bodyguards standing a ways off, giving them a wide berth, he pushed André into the wall, using the weight of his body to hold him there. "You wanted me to open up to you as if you don't already have one foot out the door."

André's eyes spit fire at him, his jaw ticking. For the short time they'd known each other, Gideon had come to like looking into his eyes, reading all his facial expressions. He'd come to enjoy the few fleeting moments when he'd had the privilege of feeling André's body pressed to his. His father had taught Gideon so many things, like how to kill a man, but no one had taught him how to deal with André and the feelings he evoked.

Inconvenient feelings.

But Gideon clung to them with ragged fingernails because they were the only positive thing in his life. The only thing that didn't feel tainted.

Even though they were. They couldn't help but be tainted.

He'd hated the way his chest had tightened when he caught the look in André's eyes the moment he'd recognized his father on that bed. Because it was then that Gideon realized he didn't know if he could ever have André's loyalty. André could say all the negative things he wanted about the man who'd fathered him, but there was a yearning in his eyes. A boy wanting what he'd never had—the father figure he was denied.

If there was a choice to be made between Gideon and Ennis, André would choose his father.

Gideon wanted to be the one he chose.

André stopped struggling against him. Instead, his eyes narrowed to flints. "Did you try to kill my father?"

There was no getting closer, not with how tightly plastered Gideon was to him. He felt André's racing heart, felt the reverberations in his own chest, and inhaled, taking André into his lungs. Gideon touched him, cupping André's neck with a hand that wasn't too steady.

Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead to André's. Their noses lined up perfectly. And his lips were right there for the taking. For the tasting. But Gideon didn't. Not yet. Instead, he answered in a murmur. "I don't try. If I wanted him dead, he wouldn't be here, using up necessary resources, while my doctors fight to save his life."

André shuddered against him and Gideon gritted his teeth to keep from doing all the things he wanted to when they didn't have privacy. Like lick him in that spot at the base of his throat where his racing pulse was visible.

"So who did it?"

Gideon shrugged. "Don't know, but I'll find out."

André's head tipped backward and he gazed up at Gideon. His expression had shifted into something…dare he say, softer ? "You saved him?"

Gideon nodded.

"Why?" André didn't try to escape their position. Maybe he liked having Gideon's weight on him. God knew Gideon liked having André's weight on him.

"Because I still have use for him. I need answers from him," he answered honestly, but it might not have been what André wanted to hear because his gaze dimmed. And he glanced away. "What?" Gideon asked. It wasn't as if André didn't know Gideon and Ennis Canto were enemies. One of them was going to die eventually. And it wouldn't be Gideon.

"Is that how it is for me, too?" André kept his gaze averted. "You save me because I'm useful to you, but you discard me when that's no longer the case?"

Gideon stared down at him.

When André returned his gaze to him, his eyes were sad. "And you wonder why I have one foot out the door."

Gideon held the other man's face in both hands. Lips brushing André's, he asked, "If I told you that you were safe with me, would you believe me? If I told you there's nothing I want more than you here with me, would you accept that?"

André's lips trembled under his. "If it was the truth," he responded huskily.

Gideon pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. "It's the truth." His fingers trembled against André's skin. Fuck. He looked so vulnerable staring up at Gideon. All the plans Gideon had made with his father, the decades of strategy and positioning players exactly where they wanted them on the board, he hadn't planned on this moment.

His father certainly hadn't foreseen there'd come a day when their hard work would take a back seat. But it was. It would. Because Gideon for sure wasn't about to sacrifice André. Not for any reason.

"It's the truth," he repeated. Those three words were saturated with wonder, with rightness. Samir could argue all he wanted, but they would have to pivot. And pivot they would. "Stay with me," Gideon begged. His father was probably turning over in his grave, listening to Gideon beg Ennis Canto's son for anything. "Please."

"G." Samir called his name and Gideon jerked his head up.

The loud beeps and raised voices coming from inside the medical unit registered then. André moved before Gideon did, racing back to the room.

"What happened?" Gideon asked Samir.

"Canto is coding."

Goddamn it.