Chapter 26 – Jealousy Explosion
Alexis Harper stood near the edge of the set, arms folded, pretending to admire the scenic artificial garden arranged by the production team for today's challenge. In reality, she was monitoring Dante Chase from across the courtyard. He was helping another contestant, the ever-charming and infuriatingly confident Sophia, adjust a prop for their photoshoot.
The sight twisted her stomach into knots. Sophia laughed lightly at something Dante had said, her head tilted in that effortless way that made everyone turn their eyes her way. And Dante… Dante smiled. That slow, easy smile Alexis had memorized years ago, the one that had haunted her dreams, the one she thought she'd buried deep under layers of career ambition and self-preservation.
Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides, the muscles in her jaw tightening. Why am I feeling this way? she wondered, pacing subtly. Jealousy wasn't something she usually allowed herself to indulge in. She was better than this—strong, clever, untouchable. Yet here she was, simmering while he leaned close to another woman, his shoulder brushing hers in the most casual, effortless way.
Alexis's internal monologue spiraled. It's a challenge. They're working together. He's just doing his job. She tried to rationalize, but the rational part of her brain was losing. Fast. Every laugh Sophia shared with Dante felt like a personal jab. Every tilt of his head in her direction, a confirmation of her worst fear: that he still had a spark for anyone but her.
Unable to bear it any longer, she stormed off before she said something she'd regret in front of cameras. She didn't even notice Vanessa smirking from the shadows, capturing every moment with her hidden phone.
Backstage, the tension hit its peak. Alexis found herself alone in a dimly lit hallway, the hum of equipment and distant chatter filling the space like a background track to her simmering frustration. She leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths, trying to convince herself that it was only professional interaction. Only work. Only… only everything except the messy knot of emotion coiling in her chest.
Then he appeared. Dante, calm and composed, though there was a hint of wariness in his eyes, as if he'd sensed the storm brewing behind her.
"Alexis…" he began cautiously, his voice smooth, measured, teasing even. "You look… tense."
Tense didn't begin to cover it. She whirled around, unable to stop herself, voice sharp. "You look… very friendly with Sophia."
Dante blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Friendly? We were adjusting props. She asked me for help."
Alexis laughed bitterly, a harsh, unrestrained sound. "Help? Is that what you call leaning over her like that? Smiling at her like—like you used to smile at me?"
Dante's lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes darkened with concern. "Alexis, it's just work. I wasn't—"
"Just work?" she cut in, her voice rising slightly. "Is it just work when your body leans toward her instead of me? Is it just work when you touch her hand while adjusting her sleeve and I see it?"
He stepped closer, exhaling slowly, his own tension mounting. "Alexis, stop. You're letting jealousy make a mountain out of a molehill."
Jealousy. The word echoed in her mind like a slap. Yes. I'm jealous. Because I still care. Because I still… She swallowed hard, unable to finish the thought. She didn't want to admit it, not here, not now, with cameras lurking somewhere, with Vanessa surely poised to turn this moment into the next viral clip.
"I don't care if it's a molehill or a mountain," she snapped, stepping back. "I can't just… watch you. I can't watch you be nice to someone else, like you're not mine. Like I've never existed."
Dante's jaw tightened, a storm behind his calm exterior. He had been expecting rational objections, professional concerns, maybe even a playful jab or two—but this raw, vulnerable honesty? He wasn't prepared for that.
"Alexis…" he began, softer now, attempting to reach her through the chaos of her emotions. "You know that's not how it is. You're the only one I—"
Her heart stuttered at the unfinished sentence. She wanted to step forward, throw herself into him, demand confirmation, crave the words he didn't say aloud. But pride—and fear—kept her rooted.
"Say it," she whispered, the anger in her voice melting into something else entirely: longing, a desperate vulnerability she hadn't allowed herself to show in years.
"I—" he stopped, caught between professional restraint and the undeniable pull between them. His hand hovered near hers, and for a moment, the air between them vibrated with unspoken tension.
"I can't do this right now," Alexis admitted, stepping back. "I can't… I can't pretend like my heart doesn't exist when you're right here, smiling at someone else."
Dante exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck in that subtle gesture she remembered so well. "You're impossible," he muttered, half teasing, half exasperated. But his eyes betrayed him, glinting with heat, frustration, and a trace of something far more dangerous: desire.
Alexis rolled her eyes, trying to mask her fluttering chest, but it was futile. Every glance at him, every flicker of emotion across his features, made her pulse race.
"I'm not impossible," she shot back, voice a mixture of defiance and confession. "I just… care. More than I should."
"And I…" Dante's voice caught, uncertain, raw, "I care too. More than I should. You think I don't notice how you flare up, how you retreat, how you—"
He trailed off, the words hanging like a promise. Alexis felt herself falter. This was the moment she had feared and wanted in equal measure: raw, emotional, and exposing vulnerabilities that could destroy them both if mishandled.
Suddenly, the distant click of a camera shutter echoed through the hallway. Vanessa. Of course. She was recording every heated word, every dangerous inch of space closing between them. Alexis's stomach lurched.
"We're being watched," she hissed, stepping between them. "Don't let this turn into… into something stupid."
Dante's hand brushed hers accidentally—or maybe not—sending a shock through her body. His gaze softened, almost pleading. "Alexis… let me be stupid with you. Just for a moment."
Her resolve wavered. The world outside, the cameras, the scheming contestants—all faded into insignificance. All that mattered was the heat, the tension, the undeniable pull between them.
Her laugh, breathless and nervous, broke the tension. "You are going to get us both into so much trouble."
"Maybe," he replied, lips quirking in a grin. "Or maybe… it's worth it."
Alexis's chest tightened. She wanted to argue, to resist, to cling to every last shred of control she thought she had. But when he stepped closer, just close enough for her to feel his warmth without collapsing into him, she realized she didn't care anymore.
Their eyes met, a storm of emotions—jealousy, desire, vulnerability, and history—swirling in the space between them. The hallway, once filled with mundane chatter and camera hums, felt like their own private universe, charged with tension and unsaid words.
Alexis wanted to confess everything, all at once: the heartbreak, the longing, the years of avoiding him, the moments she'd replayed in her mind. But she settled for a shaky, nervous laugh instead.
"Maybe we should… I don't know… talk later," she said, voice catching.
Dante's hand lingered near hers a second longer before he reluctantly stepped back. "Later," he agreed. But the single word carried promise, heat, and danger.
As Alexis walked away, heart hammering, she knew one thing for certain: jealousy had exploded, but so had something far more potent. Sparks had flown, walls had cracked, and a slow-burning fire had begun.
And when the cameras finally caught her retreating figure, she didn't care. Not for ratings, not for Vanessa, not for the world. Because the only thing that mattered… was him.
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