Chapter 14 – First Real Emotional Beat
The mansion's hallways were eerily quiet after the day's chaos, the kind of silence that carried weight, like a breath being held. Contestants had scattered to their rooms, retreating with their bruised egos, whispered alliances, and carefully curated strategies.
I should have been doing the same—curling up in bed, scrolling through the avalanche of social media reactions, and convincing myself that tomorrow's chaos would be survivable. Instead, I found myself pacing outside the greenroom, chewing the inside of my cheek and fighting the buzz of adrenaline that hadn't left me since the challenge.
Jealousy still burned faintly in my chest, a leftover ember from watching Dante laugh with Clarissa earlier. It was ridiculous, I told myself. Immature. Dangerous. But no matter how many rational arguments I built in my head, none of them extinguished the memory of his smile—the one that wasn't for me.
And then, as if summoned by my thoughts, Dante appeared.
He stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, his broad shoulders brushing against the doorframe as he blocked my path. His eyes caught mine immediately, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe. There was no smirk this time, no easygoing façade. Just intensity.
"Harper." His voice was low, edged with steel. "We need to talk."
The way he said it—firm, undeniable—made my pulse stutter. I tried for humor, the old shield I always used. "If this is about me stealing the last muffin at breakfast, I swear I'll bake you a whole batch as an apology."
He didn't laugh. He didn't even blink. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence crowding mine, until the wall at my back was the only thing keeping me upright.
"This isn't about muffins," he said softly, dangerously. "It's about sabotage."
My heart slammed against my ribs. "Sabotage?" I repeated, my voice feigning innocence even as my palms grew clammy.
"Don't play dumb, Alexis." His eyes searched mine, unrelenting. "I've been watching you. The subtle moves. The nudges during challenges. The way Vanessa nearly lost it today because of you. It's deliberate. You're not here just to win—you're here to stir things up."
Heat crept up my neck. He was too close, too perceptive. "This is a game show," I said finally, forcing my voice steady. "Everyone's stirring things up. That's the whole point."
"Not like you." His jaw tightened, eyes dark. "You're playing a different game. And I want to know why."
The hallway seemed smaller, the air heavier. My brain screamed at me to lie, to laugh it off, to brush past him with a witty remark. But the intensity in his gaze pinned me in place, stripped me bare in ways I wasn't ready for.
"I'm doing what I have to," I said quietly, almost a whisper.
He studied me for a long moment, the tension between us humming like electricity. "You've always done that, haven't you? Protecting yourself. Playing the role everyone expects. But underneath…" His voice faltered, softer now, almost vulnerable. "…you're still you."
My throat tightened. I wanted to deny it, to remind him that he didn't know me anymore—that the Alexis he once loved was gone. But the words caught, tangled with the lump rising in my chest.
"Dante…" His name slipped out before I could stop it, weighted with years of unsaid words.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Tell me I'm wrong," he whispered. "Tell me there's nothing here. That all of this—" he gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the sparks snapping between us "—is just strategy."
I should have said it. Should have laughed, rolled my eyes, walked away. But instead, silence stretched between us, heavy, undeniable. My lips parted, but no words came. Only my pulse, hammering like a drum in my ears.
Frustration flashed in his gaze, quickly drowned by something deeper—something I recognized all too well. Attraction. Longing.
"You drive me insane," he muttered, voice rough. "You always have."
The confession hit me like a blow, knocking the breath out of me. My chest ached, my fingers twitched at my sides, aching to reach for him, to bridge the gap I'd spent years pretending didn't exist.
"And you," I whispered back before I could stop myself, "are infuriating. Impossible. And yet—"
The words caught. I couldn't finish them, not without tearing down the fragile wall I'd built around my heart.
He leaned in, just slightly, just enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek. My body went taut, every nerve on fire, the space between us charged with a tension that threatened to consume us both.
It wasn't a kiss. Not yet. But it was close—dangerously close. A near-kiss that stretched seconds into eternity, that made my heart ache with both anticipation and fear.
"Alexis," he murmured, my name a prayer and a curse all at once.
My breath hitched. My hands clenched at my sides, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away. The cameras weren't here. No producers. No audience. Just us. Raw. Exposed. Real.
And that terrified me more than anything.
I forced myself to break the silence, to cling to the last shred of rationality I had left. "We can't," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Not here. Not now."
He pulled back slightly, his jaw tight, his eyes unreadable. The disappointment in his gaze was sharp enough to cut me, but beneath it, I saw something else—hope.
"You're right," he said finally, his voice rough. "But don't think for a second this is over."
He stepped back, the air between us cooling instantly, leaving me breathless and trembling. And then he walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the mansion's hallway.
I leaned against the wall, my knees weak, my chest heaving. My fingers brushed my lips, tingling with the phantom of a kiss that hadn't happened but felt more powerful than any kiss ever could.
For the first time in years, I questioned everything. My plan. My persona. My carefully guarded heart.
Because no matter how much I tried to deny it, one truth had become impossible to ignore:
Dante still had the power to unravel me. And part of me wanted him to.
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