Chapter 11 – Private Confrontation
The hallways behind the studio were dim, quiet compared to the chaos that still buzzed in the main lounge. The muffled laughter, the snippets of conversation, the echoing of heels against the polished floors—it all felt distant here, as if I had stepped into a different world. One where I could finally breathe. One where I could pretend, for a moment, that the cameras weren't watching.
I leaned against the cool wall, closing my eyes for a fraction of a second, letting the silence envelop me. My chest was still tight from the morning's verbal sparring, from Vanessa's pointed glares, from Jenna's petty snickers. I had survived, yes, but at what cost? Every smirk, every whispered joke aimed at me had felt like tiny daggers. I had hidden behind my carefully crafted persona, my wit, my sarcasm, but inside… it was raw.
And then he appeared.
Dante. The one name I had tried to erase, the one man I had convinced myself I would never see again, had silently stepped into the shadowed hallway. My heart stuttered, my pulse spiking with a mix of panic, longing, and a jolt of something I hadn't felt in years—desire.
"Alexis," he said, his voice low, measured, but carrying an edge I immediately recognized. The edge that had once made me simultaneously fear and crave him.
I opened my eyes slowly, meeting his gaze, and my stomach flipped. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as though he hadn't bothered to adjust it, his suit perfectly tailored, giving him that effortless, maddening charm he always seemed to have. He was beautiful, infuriatingly so, and somehow still knew exactly how to make me feel like a teenager caught doing something I shouldn't.
"Dante," I managed, keeping my tone neutral, though I could feel the tremor in my hands.
He took a step closer, and I took one back, though my heart betrayed me by beating faster. "We need to talk," he said. There was no anger in his voice, just a quiet intensity that immediately made me tense.
I nodded slowly. "About… what?" I tried to sound casual, but my voice was steadier than I felt.
"About you," he said, and the weight behind the words made my stomach drop. "About why you ghosted me. Why you disappeared. Why you left without a word after… everything."
Memories surged unbidden, a floodgate I hadn't wanted to open. Our last night together, the argument that spiraled too quickly, my phone left unanswered, my own fear and panic propelling me into silence. I had thought I was protecting myself, protecting him even. I had been running from more than just the heartbreak—I had been running from my own feelings.
"I…" I started, then stopped. My throat felt tight. "I thought… I thought it was the only way. I didn't know how to fix it."
He studied me, dark eyes shadowed with something between pain and disbelief. "The only way? You disappeared. No explanation. No warning. And you expect me to just… understand?" His voice cracked slightly, betraying his attempt to remain calm.
"I didn't know how," I whispered, stepping closer despite the fear crawling up my spine. "I didn't know how to say what I felt without making it worse. Without ruining… us. I thought… leaving was better than staying and failing you."
His expression softened, and my chest ached. "Better?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Do you know how that felt? To have the person I trusted vanish like they never existed?"
I shook my head, guilt washing over me in a hot wave. "I know. I… I'm sorry, Dante. I thought I was protecting you. I thought I was protecting me. I was selfish, yes. But I never stopped caring."
The words hung between us, fragile, heavy, vibrating with unspoken emotion. And then, as if drawn by some invisible current, our faces inched closer. I could feel the heat radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the tension in the air, and my heart skipped violently.
He stopped just inches away, eyes locked on mine, nostrils flaring slightly. "Alexis…"
"I know," I breathed. The confession had been waiting years, trapped behind my pride, my fear, my need to survive in a world that had never been gentle with us.
The tension was electric, pulsing between us like a live wire. His hand hovered near mine, and I felt the tremble of anticipation, of restraint. Neither of us dared to close the gap fully, though every instinct screamed to collapse into each other, to erase the years of pain and silence in a single, reckless kiss.
"And this reality show," he said quietly, voice rougher now, filled with an edge of suspicion and something else I couldn't name. "You're here… playing the villain, making everyone laugh at you, at the same time… you're trying to win. To survive. And yet… you're here, like this, with me. Why?"
I swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze pressing down on me. "Because… it's the only shot I've got. Because I don't know how else to fix things, to survive my career, to… be seen as more than just a mistake."
He let out a low, almost imperceptible sigh. "And what about… us?" His words were tentative, fragile.
My chest constricted. "Us?" I echoed, my voice trembling slightly. "Dante… I don't know if 'us' even exists anymore. I don't know if it can."
He stepped closer, hand finally brushing against mine, a ghost of a touch, and it sent a jolt straight through me. "I don't care," he murmured, voice low, almost a growl. "I never stopped… noticing you. Not then, not now. Not ever."
My breath hitched, tears pricking my eyes despite my best effort to stay composed. "Dante…"
He closed the tiny distance, just enough that our foreheads nearly touched. The air between us crackled. I could feel the heat of his breath, the steadying thrum of his heartbeat through his chest, and the longing that had never truly gone away.
"Alexis," he said again, softer this time, almost reverent. "I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to lose you again. Not like that."
A rush of emotion surged through me—relief, fear, desire, guilt. Years of restraint, years of heartbreak, all balancing on a knife's edge between confession and regret.
"I… I'm scared," I admitted, voice barely audible. "I'm scared of getting hurt again. Of failing. Of… everything."
He smiled faintly, just enough to make my heart twist, and brushed his thumb across the back of my hand. "Then we take it slow. We don't have to fix everything at once. But we can try, Alexis. Together."
And just like that, years of distance, years of silence, seemed to collapse into a single moment, a fragile bridge over the abyss that had separated us for so long. My chest ached with longing, desire, and a terrifying hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back.
Before I could respond, the hallway door clicked. A shadow fell over us. Vanessa. Watching. Smirking. Always watching.
I pulled back instinctively, my cheeks flaming. Dante's gaze lingered on me a moment longer, filled with unspoken promises and warnings, before he reluctantly stepped back. "We'll talk later," he whispered, before disappearing down the hall, leaving me trembling, heart pounding, and painfully aware that the slow burn between us had just ignited—again.
Vanessa, of course, didn't miss a beat. "Well, that was… intimate," she said, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Careful, Harper. Cameras never miss a thing."
I clenched my fists, simultaneously furious and exhilarated. The game was far from over—but for the first time, I felt alive. Terrified, yes. Vulnerable, absolutely. But alive.
And somewhere deep inside, a spark had ignited—a spark that threatened to consume me if I let it.
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