Get out of my car now. Dante Caruso’s voice cut through the Rolls-Royce like a blade. He didn’t look at Elise Harmon.
He didn’t need to. His finger pointed at the curb like a judge delivering a death sentence. Mr. Caruso. I I said out. I
don’t repeat myself. Ever. Elisa’s hands froze on the steering wheel. 6 hours.
She’d lasted 6 hours before the most dangerous man in New York showed his true colors. Her son’s face flashed
through her mind. Noah waiting at home, believing mommy’s new job would finally save them. She didn’t get out. No. That
single word would either get her killed or give her everything she never knew she needed. If this story satisfies you,
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Dante didn’t move. He didn’t get out into the downpour, and he didn’t let her leave either. The silence inside the
Rolls-Royce became a weapon, sharper than the rain drumming on the roof. He leaned forward, his shadow looming over
Elise until she could feel the heat radiating from his suppressed rage. “Look at me, Elise,” he commanded, his
voice a low vibration that mirrored the thunder outside. She didn’t move. Her knuckles were white on the steering
wheel. I said, “Look at me. We are going to settle this right here, like adults.”
Slowly, Elise turned in the dim glow of the dashboard. His eyes weren’t just
cold, they were predatory. They were inches apart, trapped in a bubble of leather and luxury, while the world
outside vanished behind a curtain of water. He didn’t need the rain to look dangerous. The quiet fury in his gaze
was enough to drown her. Dante shoved his door open and stepped out into the deluge. He didn’t look back, but his
silence was a command. Elise took a trembling breath, killed the engine, and followed him. They faced each other on
an empty sidewalk. The rain pounded. Street lights cast a faint yellow glow over two figures from two different
worlds. Neither of them looked away first. “Do you know why you were the 47th person to apply for this job?”
Dante asked, his voice calm as if they were standing in a living room and not in the middle of a downpour. Elise
answered without hesitation. “Because you fired 46 people.” “Wrong.” Dante
tilted his head, studying her. “Because 46 people quit. They couldn’t take the
pressure. They couldn’t stand being ordered around by someone like me. They couldn’t stand the truth that in my
world, one mistake can mean death. I don’t make mistakes, Mr. Caruso. You
took the wrong route. No. I took a different route. Elise drew a deep breath. 20 minutes before picking you
I heard the police radio. They were carrying out a raid on Fifth Avenue. The exact route you wanted to take. If I
followed your instructions, this Rolls-Royce would have been stopped. The cameras would have recorded it. The
police would have checked documents. And I don’t think you want that kind of attention.
Silence. The rain kept falling. Dante stared at her without blinking. His face
held no expression. But something shifted in his eyes. She had just saved him without realizing it. A raid,
cameras, the press. If Dante Caruso showed up on the evening news tonight,
sitting in a car stopped by the police, everything he’d built would tremble. And this woman, this driver who’d been on
the job for 6 hours had prevented it. “You listen to the police radio?” Dante
repeated slowly. “Old habit,” Elise said. “My husband used to be a cop. He
always kept the radio on when he drove. I learned it from him.” “Used to be. He died two years ago. A car accident. A
drunk driver ran a red light.” Her voice didn’t shake, but something broke in her eyes when she mentioned her husband.
Since then, I’ve been raising my child alone. Noah, my son, 7 years old. Dante
said nothing. I used to be a forensic accountant, Elise went on. 8 years of experience at Morrison and Associates,
specialized in detecting financial fraud, but the company downsized 6 months ago, and I was one of the people
they let go. Since then, I’ve applied to more than 100 jobs. No one called back.
Bills keep piling up. Rent is 3 weeks overdue. I have $23 in my bank account.
She paused, drew a shaky breath. So when I saw your posting, the job no one
wants, I applied. Not because I’m brave. Because I’m desperate. There’s a
difference, Mr. Caruso. Dante remained silent. Rain streamed down his face like
tears he would never shed. “I’m not afraid of you,” Elise said plainly. “I’m
afraid of failing my son. I’m afraid of looking into Noah’s eyes and telling him his mother couldn’t hold on to a job.
I’m afraid of letting him see an eviction notice taped to the door. That’s my fear, not you. And then the
thing Elise never expected happened. Dante Caruso laughed, not a sneer, not
the cruel laugh she’d braced herself for. It was a laugh of surprise, almost of admiration. Get back in the car, Mrs.
Harmon. Elise blinked. Am I fired? Dante didn’t answer. He only turned and walked
to the rear door of the Rolls-Royce, opened it, and sat inside. Elise stood there for another second, the rain still
crashing down, not sure what had just happened. Then she returned to the driver’s seat. They drove off in
silence. Elise stared straight ahead, her hands tight on the wheel. Every so often, she glanced in the rearview
mirror and caught Dante watching her. His eyes were no longer angry, not warm, either. They were something she couldn’t
read. She didn’t know whether she’d just been spared or whether she was being led somewhere worse than death. Elise sat
alone in the garage after Dante left. The Rolls-Royce was parked neatly in its spot, the engine off, yet her hands were
still clamped around the steering wheel, trembling. She looked down at her fingers and realized they were shaking
beyond her control. 6 hours earlier, she’d walked into this building with the thin hope that a new job would save her
and Noah. Now, she didn’t know whether she still had that job. She didn’t know whether she’d still be alive tomorrow.
In her mind, the confrontation in the rain replayed over and over like a film stuck on a loop. She should have kept
quiet. She should have lowered her head and apologized. She should have done whatever he wanted and saved her pride
for another day. A day when her son didn’t depend on her, but she hadn’t. She’d said no to the most dangerous man
in New York. She’d stood in the rain and looked him straight in the eyes. And somehow she was still alive. The phone
in her pocket vibrated. Elise flinched, her heart jumping into a frantic rhythm.
She pulled it out and looked at the screen. A message from Mrs. Bellini. Noah’s asleep, sweetheart. He waited for
you and couldn’t anymore. He drew you a picture. You’re driving a huge black car like a superhero. Elise closed her eyes
and let out a long breath. Noah, she had to get home to her son. She drove out of
the garage across Manhattan toward Brooklyn. The streets were quieter at night, neon lights blinking along both
sides. But Elise didn’t see any of it. She saw only Dante Caruso’s face in the
rain, his sudden smile, those unreadable eyes. Her apartment was on the third floor of an old building in Brooklyn.
