Chapter 29 – Rival's Manipulation
Alexis had never thought she'd feel so exposed in a place designed for chaos. The cameras were always rolling, of course, but it was the subtle whispers, the carefully planted smirks, and the half-truths whispered into the right ears that got under her skin. Vanessa had outdone herself this time.
It started during breakfast. Alexis had just taken a sip of coffee when she felt it: the shift in the room's energy. She looked up and immediately caught the tail end of Vanessa's conversation with a few of the newer contestants. The words weren't loud, not intentionally, but they carried: "You know, Alexis… maybe she's not here for the game. Maybe she's here for him. The ex. I've seen how she looks at him. She's playing everyone."
The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker. Alexis's stomach dropped. Her fingers tightened around her coffee cup until the porcelain creaked under pressure. She scanned the table; some contestants exchanged glances, nodding slightly, as if confirming some unspoken theory. Others whispered, eyes darting in her direction, curiosity mixed with suspicion.
Her heart hammered in her chest—not from fear of a performance challenge, but from the insidious poison of gossip that spread faster than wildfire. Every instinct screamed at her to confront Vanessa, to demand she retract the lies, but experience had taught her that fire only spread when poked directly. She had to be careful. Every word, every reaction could be twisted into evidence of duplicity.
Dante was nearby, seated across from the breakfast table with a plate of scrambled eggs and a cup of tea. He had that calm, observing expression—the one that made it impossible for her to hide anything from him. And he didn't. He already knew.
Alexis swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. She felt her lips twitch, the urge to snap, to yell, to defend herself rising like a storm tide. Instead, she took a deep breath, setting the coffee cup down with more force than necessary, and slid into the chair next to Dante.
He caught her gaze and raised an eyebrow, one side of his mouth lifting slightly in an amused, yet concerned way. "Tough morning?" he asked quietly. His voice was low, intimate, shielding her from the scrutiny of the room.
"You could say that," Alexis muttered, trying to keep her tone light, even as her chest tightened. "Apparently, I'm not just a contestant. I'm… a schemer, a distraction, and apparently a danger to everyone's romantic prospects." Her hand gestured vaguely toward Vanessa, who was laughing with a group across the room. "And that's just before ten a.m."
Dante chuckled softly, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed concern. "Vanessa's good at what she does," he said gently. "But don't let her mess with your head. You know the truth."
Alexis exhaled sharply. "Truth… right. What if the others start believing it too?" Her voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability she tried so hard to mask slipping through.
Dante leaned in, his hand brushing against hers as he offered silent reassurance. The touch was small, subtle, but it ignited a warmth that chased away some of the icy panic curling in her stomach. "They won't," he said firmly. "Not you. Not this time."
She looked up at him, and the world seemed to narrow to the two of them. His sincerity, the protective edge in his tone, made her heart ache with a combination of relief and desire. She wanted to lean into him, to let herself be shielded from everything else, but the battle with her own pride and independence held her back.
Vanessa, of course, wasn't finished. By mid-morning, she had launched the next wave. While Alexis attempted to focus on a group challenge, Vanessa sidled up to a couple of contestants and whispered something Alexis couldn't hear fully, though the way their heads nodded and their eyes flicked toward her left no doubt. She was being painted as manipulative, selfish, and untrustworthy.
Alexis felt heat rise to her cheeks, not just from anger but from the humiliation of knowing this would be broadcast to viewers and judged both by the contestants and the audience at home. The cameras caught every subtle reaction, and Alexis had learned that even the slightest twitch of emotion could become evidence of guilt.
Dante noticed her tense posture immediately. He stayed close, pretending to focus on the challenge, but his eyes never left her. Every so often, his hand would brush against hers, lingering slightly longer than necessary, grounding her amidst the storm of deceit surrounding them. Each touch carried a silent message: "I've got you. We're in this together."
The irony wasn't lost on Alexis. Here she was, a supposed saboteur on a reality show, feeling more sabotaged than she had ever been. And yet… she couldn't deny the thrill that ran through her at being near Dante, at having him silently intervene without anyone else knowing. The juxtaposition of danger and desire made her pulse race in ways she hadn't anticipated.
Later, as the group sat down for a mandatory team activity designed to foster "trust and cooperation," Alexis found herself paired with Dante again. She tried to ignore the small pangs of nerves in her stomach, focusing on the task at hand: assembling a chaotic series of puzzle pieces under strict time constraints.
Vanessa lingered nearby, ostensibly helping another pair but casting pointed glances in their direction. Alexis felt the sting of paranoia. She caught Vanessa's reflection in a glass panel and nearly jumped at the glint of triumph in her rival's eyes. It was a silent challenge: "I'm watching you. And everyone else is listening."
Alexis's hands trembled slightly as she worked on her section of the puzzle. She hated admitting it, but she needed Dante's guidance. Every brush of his hand as they reached for the same piece sent shivers through her. Her mind scrambled with conflicting thoughts: I can't let myself be distracted. This is a competition. I need to survive. But… why do I feel so alive when he's near?
Dante leaned close, his breath brushing her ear as he whispered, "You're doing fine. Ignore the noise." His words were simple, but they carried a weight that made her chest tighten with gratitude and longing. She wanted to tell him she felt the same way, but the competition—and Vanessa's manipulations—made her hesitate.
By the end of the challenge, Alexis had managed to keep her focus enough to avoid outright failure, though her group didn't win. Vanessa, however, made sure to spread the narrative that Alexis had been "distracted" by Dante, reinforcing the lie that her motives were anything but genuine. The room buzzed with half-whispered comments, and Alexis could feel the walls closing in.
Afterward, she retreated to the balcony once more, the cool evening air offering a momentary reprieve. Dante followed almost immediately, closing the distance between them without question.
"You okay?" he asked quietly, watching her closely.
"I will be," she replied, though she wasn't entirely sure it was true. "I just… hate that she can twist everything I do."
Dante reached out, gently tilting her chin up so she met his gaze. "Let her twist," he said. "We know the truth. And I know you, Alexis. That's all that matters."
Her chest tightened, and she let herself lean into him, just a little. The tension of the day—the whispers, the rumors, the manipulations—faded into insignificance against the certainty of his presence. Their fingers intertwined naturally, a small, almost private rebellion against the chaos surrounding them.
Alexis allowed herself a small, humor-tinged thought: Maybe being surrounded by drama isn't so bad when he's here. She even managed a tiny, reluctant smile, which Dante mirrored with one of his own—soft, teasing, protective.
But of course, the battle wasn't over. She knew Vanessa wouldn't stop. The schemer thrived on tension, on jealousy, on secrets. And Alexis had no doubt that by morning, she'd find herself caught in the next trap, facing lies, whispers, and manipulations that would test not only her ability to navigate the game but also her feelings for Dante.
For now, though, there was a quiet reprieve. A moment that belonged only to them, away from the prying eyes and insidious scheming. Alexis pressed her hand against Dante's, feeling the warmth, the reassurance, the unspoken promise that he wasn't going anywhere. And as the night air wrapped around them, Alexis allowed herself to breathe, to hope, and to feel something approaching happiness.
It was fleeting, of course—fleeting, but necessary.
And she would cling to it.
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