Chapter 11: The Vote (Leo POV)
I’m pacing my apartment, paint still wet on my hands, when Daniel slams his phone down. “It’s happening,” he says, his voice tight after Claire’s call about the board voting him out. His face is pale, eyes dark, and I can’t stand it. Three days left to pay rent, and he’s falling apart right in front of me. “You’re letting them win?” I ask, stepping closer, my voice sharp. He looks at me, jaw tight, and shakes his head slow. “I don’t know what to do, Leo. My dad’s pushing hard.” I grab his arm, pulling him toward the door. “Then we fight. Come on. We’re going to Warrick Designs. Now.” He hesitates, feet planted, but I tug harder. “Move, Daniel! You can’t just sit here.”
He nods, grabs his keys, and we’re out the door. My boots thud down the stairs, his steps heavy behind me. The drive is quiet, rain smacking the truck’s windshield, my leg bouncing the whole way. Warrick Designs is a big glass building downtown, all shiny and cold. We park, and I shove the door open, not waiting for him. “Let’s go,” I say, and he follows, hands in his pockets, looking like he’s walking to a funeral. Inside, it’s all suits and polished floors, people staring as we push past. I hear voices down a hall, loud and angry, and head straight for them. Daniel grabs my arm, his voice low. “Leo, wait. This might not work.” I shake him off. “It’ll work if you fight.”
We burst into a boardroom, a long table full of old guys in ties, papers scattered everywhere. Daniel’s dad stands at the head, his face red, yelling at someone on a laptop screen. He stops when he sees us, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here?” he snaps, pointing at Daniel. I step forward, fists clenched. “He’s here to keep what’s his. You can’t just take it.” Dad laughs, short and mean, and turns to the board. “See this? My son’s lost it. Bringing his little friend to beg.” He clicks something on the laptop, and a video starts playing, me and Daniel in the diner, kissing hard, my hands on him. My stomach drops, heat rushing to my face.
“He’s a disgrace!” Dad yells, slamming the laptop shut. The board murmurs, heads nodding, and I see Daniel freeze next to me. “That’s not who I am,” he says, voice shaking, but his dad cuts him off. “It’s exactly who you are! You’re out, Daniel. We’re voting now.” I lunge forward, my voice loud. “He’s worth more than you! You’re the disgrace, throwing him away!” Dad’s face twists, and he nods at two security guys by the door. “Get them out.” They grab me first, hands tight on my arms, pulling me back. I twist, trying to shake them off, but they’re strong. “Let go!” I yell, and Daniel steps in, shoving one of them. “Don’t touch him!”
It’s no use. They drag us both out, my boots sliding on the floor, Daniel’s voice echoing behind me. “Dad, stop this!” The boardroom door slams shut, and they shove us into the lobby, hard enough I stumble into a wall. I catch myself, breathing fast, and turn to Daniel. He’s staring at the floor, hands shaking. “They’re done,” he mutters, voice low. “I’m out.” I grab his jacket, pulling him toward the truck. “Come on. We’re not staying here.” He doesn’t fight me this time, just follows, head down, rain soaking us as we climb in.
Back at my place, the apartment’s dark, paint cans still scattered from earlier. I kick the door shut, my shirt sticking to me, wet and cold. Daniel drops onto my mattress, springs creaking, and rubs his face hard. “It’s over, Leo,” he says, his voice flat. “I’m losing everything, the company, my family, all of it.” I sit next to him, close enough our legs touch. “You’re not losing me,” I say, firm and steady. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve got three days, I’ll sell more, keep us going.” He looks at me, eyes tired but soft, and I lean in, kissing him. It’s slow at first, gentle, my lips pressing against his, promising something I don’t even know how to give yet. He kisses back, his hand sliding to my neck, pulling me closer, and it heats up, my fingers gripping his shirt tight.
His phone rings, loud and sharp, cutting through the quiet. He pulls away, breathing heavy, and digs it out of his pocket. I see the screen, his dad’s name. He answers, holding it to his ear, and I watch his face change, tighten up fast. “What do you want?” he says, voice rough. I can’t hear the other side, but his dad’s voice is loud, barking through the speaker. Daniel’s eyes go wide, then narrow, and he grips the phone harder. “You wouldn’t,” he says, low and angry. The call lasts maybe a minute, him listening, his jaw clenching tighter with every word. Then he drops the phone onto the mattress, the thud soft but heavy, and looks at me. “He’ll hurt you,” he says, his voice shaking. I stare at him, my heart speeding up, my mouth dry. “What’s he mean?” I ask, my voice sharp, but he doesn’t answer, just keeps looking at me, eyes dark and scared.