Chapter 6 – Ex Revealed
The morning sun spilled through the tall windows of the mansion's lounge, catching in the gold trim of the grand piano and bouncing off polished floors. The air was thick with the scent of fresh coffee and nervous energy. Today's group challenge had a simple premise: contestants would pair off and complete a scavenger hunt around the property, each task designed to test teamwork, creativity, and—of course—create maximum on-camera drama.
I sipped my latte, trying to appear nonchalant, though my heart was performing a tap dance in my chest. I had rehearsed my entrance in my mind a hundred times: strategic interruptions, subtle chaos, charm mixed with mischief. Simple. Routine. Professional. And yet, my palms were clammy, my thoughts scattered.
Then I saw him.
Standing across the room, talking casually with one of the producers, his dark hair catching the sunlight, that familiar sharp jawline, those impossibly dark eyes that had haunted my dreams and my nightmares for three years... Dante. My ex.
I froze mid-sip, latte hovering dangerously close to my lips. Memories crashed over me like a tidal wave: late-night laughs, secret kisses behind closed doors, fights that burned too hot, silences that left scars deeper than words. And then the day he had left, the betrayal—or was it his fear?—still lingering like smoke that refused to dissipate.
I choked down the latte and set it on the counter with more force than necessary. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready for him.
And yet, here he was. Smiling politely at someone, his posture casual, his presence radiating the same magnetic pull that had drawn me in years ago.
Keep it together, Alexis, I whispered to myself. It's a challenge. It's just a show. He's just... there.
The producer clapped her hands, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. "All right, everyone! Pair up and get ready. First task starts in five minutes!"
I exhaled, trying to focus. Task one: retrieve a hidden key from the library without alerting the other pairs. Easy. In theory. But my theory didn't account for him, standing just a few feet away, his gaze finally flicking toward me. And oh, did it flick.
That glance. The one that said, without a word, I remember everything.
Heat pooled in my chest, my carefully constructed defenses wobbling. I smiled tightly, forcing my body to move forward while my mind screamed in protest. The other contestants were pairing off, some whispering, some laughing, oblivious to the storm raging in my head.
I moved toward the nearest task station, trying to ignore Dante, trying to concentrate on not melting into a puddle of chaos and unresolved feelings. But my heart betrayed me, skipping erratically every time his eyes flicked in my direction.
He leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, watching, waiting. I caught a subtle smirk tug at his lips. Was that amusement? Or judgment? Maybe both.
I shook my head, forcing focus. You're here to sabotage. You're here to play the game.
My first task: distract one of the budding couples while retrieving a hidden envelope containing the key.
I approached Jenna and Liam again. Jenna was brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, oblivious to my approach, while Liam was scanning the room, likely hunting for the producers' hidden cameras. Perfect timing. I leaned casually against the table.
"Morning, darlings! What's this? A secret mission?" I asked, tilting my head innocently. My voice had that perfect balance of sweetness and calculated mischief.
Jenna jumped slightly, and I felt a thrill of power surge. The producers would be pleased. Liam's eyes widened, just a touch, betraying the distraction I'd caused.
And then—oh, no—the sound of footsteps. Dante's footsteps.
He moved toward me, his pace measured, deliberate, eyes locked on mine. My stomach did a complicated somersault, simultaneously wanting to flee and to freeze in place just to keep him there.
"Alexis," he said casually, as if we weren't three years deep in emotional history, as if he hadn't been the one I'd tried to forget. "You look... professional."
Professional? I wanted to punch him. And yet, the way he said it, the slight tilt of his head, the way his gaze lingered just a fraction too long—it made my chest ache.
I swallowed, pretending not to be flustered. "Professional is the only way to survive this... circus," I replied lightly, masking the tremor in my voice with a laugh that sounded far too high-pitched to be entirely natural.
Dante's smirk widened. "Circus, huh? You've always had a flair for drama."
I forced a shrug, playing it cool while my heart slammed against my ribcage like it had its own agenda. Do not let him see that you're completely undone inside.
The task began in earnest. I slipped the envelope from under the table while chatting with Jenna, all casual smiles and witty remarks. My heart was in my throat as Dante lingered nearby, watching with that piercing gaze that seemed to see right through the carefully constructed persona I'd brought to the show.
Does he suspect? I wondered. Can he see that I'm enjoying this... maybe too much?
As I pocketed the key and stepped back, I caught Dante's glance. A flicker of something—was it admiration? Concern? Something that made my pulse spike painfully. My careful control wavered. I wanted to tell him to leave, to not watch, to not care. But my mouth refused to form the words.
Task completed, I moved toward the next station, trying to regain my composure. But Dante's presence followed, not physically, but in every twitch of my nerves, every quickened heartbeat, every conscious and subconscious thought.
The second task involved navigating a maze of mirrors while carrying a fragile vase. I cursed silently; fragile objects and I did not have a peaceful history. And of course, Dante was assigned to observe for commentary, though the producers insisted he wasn't officially part of my group. Perfect. Perfect.
"Just ignore him," I muttered under my breath as I stepped into the maze, the vase precariously balanced in my hands. Mirrors lined the corridor, reflecting my every flinch and stumble. And there he was, reflected as well, every step measured, every expression sharp, impossibly handsome.
I collided gently with the mirror, wincing. "Smooth," I muttered to myself.
"Careful, Alexis," came a low voice, so close it made my skin prickle. Dante. "Don't break it. Or yourself."
I froze, turning my head just enough to meet his gaze through the reflection. There it was again—the intensity, the unspoken history, the spark that neither time nor distance had fully extinguished.
"You really like showing up at the worst possible moment, don't you?" I asked lightly, masking my nerves with sarcasm.
He smirked. "You make it too easy. And besides..." He leaned closer, close enough that I could feel the faintest warmth of his breath against my ear, "I like knowing you're not entirely untouchable."
My chest tightened. I wanted to respond. I wanted to push him away. I wanted to let him in. But this is a game. I reminded myself. You can't let him see this. You can't.
The vase wobbled in my hands. I steadied it with more focus than I had expected, trying to maintain the façade of control. Dante's presence was magnetic, distracting, intoxicating. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be furious or relieved that he had shown up. Perhaps both.
The maze ended, the vase intact, and I handed it to the producers with a flourish, forcing a bright, victorious smile. Behind me, Dante's gaze lingered, a quiet acknowledgment that he knew more than I wanted him to.
"Impressive," he said softly, almost privately, though the cameras would surely pick it up. "But you're playing with fire, Alexis."
I swallowed, nodding, and walked away, chest pounding, mind racing, emotions in a dangerous tangle. With him here, every move is layered. Every joke is charged. Every smile... could mean anything.
By the time the group challenge ended, I was exhilarated and exhausted in equal measure. I had completed the tasks, created subtle chaos, and—most dangerously—managed to maintain the fragile thread of control I still had over my heart.
Dante lingered as the contestants dispersed, his eyes briefly meeting mine, a silent conversation passing between us. A mix of accusation, amusement, curiosity, and longing.
And as I walked back toward my room, a private bubble of solitude in the sprawling mansion, I realized a dangerous truth: the game had changed.
It wasn't just about sabotage anymore.
It wasn't just about ratings, drama, or my career.
It was about him.
And he was everywhere.
⸻